BUSTER - Leverage information about the Servants underneath the Tower of London. Bargain for your safety!
Eh, stuck between this and quick, but we ought to cooperate.
BUSTER - Leverage information about the Servants underneath the Tower of London. Bargain for your safety!
Eh, stuck between this and quick, but we ought to cooperate.
BUSTER
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
Quest of Fate
Apocrypha Universe Fate Quest Project
---
Beast's Lair Discord Server For Fate Quests
Hermes Servant Collection Master Post
Location: ???
Time: ???
I.D: Dolores Morella
Condition: Recovering
Magic Circuits: Unlocked
Magus Profile!
Parameters!
Inventory!
Day 0 - The Prison 2
“Ma’am.” Dolores started hesitantly.
“Yes?” The blond enforcer was a touch surprised by how very nervous the girl before her was. Made obvious by the infinismal quirking of an eyebrow. “What would you like to say?”
The young magus bit her tongue, mind racing as countless hours of lessons about negotiation and verbal combat flashed before her eyes.
‘How should I go about this?’
Between being upfront about her little adventure down the tunnels and telling her about the initial attack and Bellefronte’s kidnapping attempt, she’d been tempted to hold back on saying why exactly she chose to move underground.
It would be admitting that she HAD broken the rules. A confession of guilt.
Withholding information, however, seemed dangerous. Especially given how she was brought to an interrogation room along with the Warden of London. The woman likely knew how to spot a lie from a mile away. And while Dolores felt confident in her ability to fake her way around nobles with a snobbish attitude, she was a rather poor liar.
If she couldn’t lie, then she would need to stick to the truth. As uncomfortable as it might be.
“When I was in the secure area….”
This actually brought the eyebrow high enough to be noticeable. A Magus, admitting guilt? Surely the Apocalypse was coming.
“I encountered two Servants and their Masters.” She finished, the weight of her words falling over the room like hanging thunder clouds.
“Speak. Quickly.”
The confusion was gone. A cold, hard, stoic demand for more information bearing down on the green haired girl all that remained. Dark emeralds cut through the air with a questioning glare. Her entire neutral demeanor having been replaced by an aura that demanded obedience. For her part, the last Morello shuffled around for only a few seconds before continuing.
“When I was moving through the tunnels, trying to reach the Clocktower after the initial attack this morning, I came upon two Masters in one of the storage units. They were wearing heavy cloaks and one was completely disguised. I recognized the servants immediately, however, one male and one female. They were… powerful spirits. Really, really, really strong. One of them was likely an Elemental, given all the lightning.”
“Probability of it being the servant the Vice-Director engaged this morning?”
Clipped, formal, direct, Dominika’s tone brooked no dissension. Moreover, a pad and a pen had materialized on the desk before her and the Warden was rapidly taking notes.
“High. Extremely high. He… felt the same. Like a living storm.”
“Identifying marks on any of them? Servants first.”
“The other one was a demon, without a doubt. Maybe even an Anti-Hero. She commanded a large number of undead and a possessed… child… fire thing? I don’t know what it was. But she was able to affect my spirit Familiar and hijacked the bounded field leading down the tunnel.”
“Caster most likely. Potential necromancer. Binder of spirits. Did she appear Greek?”
Dolores shook her head.
“No ma'am. Not visibly. I would say her clothes, and the clothes of some of the corpses, were ‘Eastern’ though. Long skirts, gold bands. Maybe more Persian. For the other… the giant. He was like a barbarian. I’d hesitate to say… German. But perhaps Saxon or Scandanavian. Definitely European. And big. Like big. Eight or nine feet tall maybe.” Eyes flickering with a hint of fear, the young woman shrunk in on herself a bit. “Too strong to be a simple familiar. He had Divinity.”
Hissing, the enforcer snapped her pen on reflex, dismissing the trash with a wave of her hand and summoning a new one; totally uncaring of the ink splattered across her fingers.
“Possible Divine Spirit then. Ksakru! Of course, with that much power it only makes sense. Masters?”
Shrugging, the Magus answered as best she could.
“One was taller, broader, definitely a… male bodied individual. Whether that was a proxy or their actual body or a suit of armor or a disguise, I couldn’t say. The Servants drowned out any other magical signals down there. But it felt like a he. Or at least that was their demeanor. The other was definitely a young man. He spoke like one. Slim, almost petite, and aggressive. Impatient. But clever enough to not actually insult his compatriot. I’d say… my age, to, perhaps, early twenties. I’m sorry I can’t offer anything else about them. Their cloaks were just plain black cotton or wool.”
A slow nod, a slight frown, and a ripple of the enforcer’s aura was Dolores’s answer.
“Well then, Heiress Morello, as of this moment you are now being held in protective custody. As Warden of London and the Clocktower I place you under my care and in my responsibility until such a time as your testimony may be verified. Policies will need to resubmit their declaration of your debts, which did not include a warrant for arrest or a request for detainment, as well as full request for any further action taken on the part of the Enforcements and Neutralization Department. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“I… do. But… before I go, you should know one more thing.”
Taking a deep breath, the shaman steeled herself, drawing on the weight of Suibhne and the strength of the spirit’s will to push through what felt like a very, very dangerous idea.
“Before I went to the tunnels I had a vision. Of the Clocktower being gutted, from the inside, by lightning.”
Eyes narrowed, the Enforcer produced a new pen and began taking notes once more.
“A family history of visions?”
“My mother was an Oracle, a seer. She received visions from Spirits, but those were a… innate ability. One I haven’t displayed before.”
“When did it occur?”
“About fourteen hours ago or so. I was in Bellefronte’s car after he kidnapped me when it was struck by lightning during the fight. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but in hindsight I could feel it coming.”
“Possibility of head injury?”
“...Non-zero.”
“Status of your magical circuits?”
“Overcharged, half fried, and bound at the time.”
That got her a blink and a slight flicker of surprise. Few Enforcers, let alone magi, would have survived if they ended up in that situation, never mind one as young as herself.
“Do you believe it?”
“After what I saw in the tunnels, without a doubt.”
“Any additional information?”
“It’s too jumbled up in my head, sorry mam.”
That got a deep, deep hum of disapproval from the woman.
“Do you have proof of your claims?”
A long, pregnant moment of silence answered that question. However, Dominika was still looking at her so Dolores assumed that meant she was politely asking the girl to make it clear how far she wanted to take this.
“Only….” Dolores wrung her hands, fingers sweaty. “Only in my head.”
The Warden’s narrowed eyes were pensive, her posture tense. She couldn’t blame her, there weren’t many ways one could react when told their highly secure stronghold was under threat from within.
None of them good.
“Would you be willing to undertake further interrogation. Mental probes? A deeper scan might be able to extract the information, if you are willing to partake.” The message was very clear, this was a choice.
Mental probing was a restricted field of Magecraft for a reason. I meant allowing someone to rummage through her brain until they found what they wanted.
Not a pleasing experience, least of all to a magus.
'Are you sure you want to do this Kitten? Isn’t this dangerous?'
Suibhne whispered in her ear, questioning if this was the smartest thing in the world to do. And it really wasn’t.
“I’m willing… to offer a memory. Of the vision and of the events of this morning. I only ask that my Master supervises the procedure.”
Shock, for the first time in the night, appeared in the Enforcer’s eyes. Allowing access to one’s own mental faculties was one of the most dangerous things a Magus could do, secrets notwithstanding, It required permitting a foreign magical presence into one’s head, sans any kind of shields or protection, to take a scan of your brain, and then to physically stimulate the parts of your mind that held those memories. Using a mystic code, the resulting events would then be captured for later playback and study.
It wasn’t easy or always clear, requiring a direct scanning of the brain and the use of powerful hypnosis, but it was exceedingly difficult to fake.
The catch was that anyone with that much access could freely play around in the vulnerable Magi’s head too. Raid it for secrets, implant commands, rewrite memories, warp personalities, kill or enslave them or worse. The trust, or desperation, implied in volunteering a memory was truly immense.
The practice was unusual even when dealing with sealing designates.
“That would be amenable….” A slow nod and the flicker of something in the woman’s eyes that Dolores couldn’t place. “It might answer many questions for us. However, that will be for later. Right now, let’s get you somewhere secure. You said you had somewhere to stay?”
“Yes mam. My Master, the Lord Magus Harfang B. Kingsworth. He’s got an apartment here in the Clocktower.”
The woman’s nose twisted in barely concealed disdain.
“Kingsworth? I’m not sure I would trust him with a witness’s protection, but at least you’d be safe from him. Perhaps…. Yes. Come with me, please.”
Following the woman, whose long strides forced Dolores to jog to keep up, the two other Enforcers fell in line behind their commander. Coming to a small substation, the blonde snapped out a few orders in language the young magus couldn’t understand. The sudden, almost violent flurry of movement in the officers and the blatant increase in the intensity of the wards, however, was painfully clear.
“Georgy, Matthaeus, over here.”
Two young men, and by young the shaman meant she couldn’t tell what their age might be, walked over. Clean shaven, heads totally bald, small tattoos above their right eyes. If it wasn’t for the fact they were too clean shaven and their suits too perfectly average then they would’ve been impossible to pick out of a crowd.
“You’ll be escorting myself and Heiress Morello to Lord Kingsworth’s study. After which, you will remain on station and watch over the witness. Should anyone other than the Vice Director or myself, confirmed by watchwords and the presentation of a signed warrant, attempt to take her, kill them. She is to come under zero threat and her safety is now classified as Priority One assignment. As of right now, she is considered to be a witness to a possible Case Yellow event. Understood?”
“Yes ma'am!”
The two enforcers snapped off quick salutes and fell in behind the group. Which, totally silent except for Dolores’s rather loud steps, marched towards the entrance of the Enforcer’s Ward.
Standing there, at the hand carved basalt pillars, Morello felt extremely pointedly small.
“It’s ok, I’m here.” Suibhne nudged her ear, letting out a low purr. “I’ve got your back.”
Dolores wished she could hug her cat. Instead, she just shivered a bit, somewhat cold.
“Take this.”
Looking up at her escort, she was a bit surprised to see the warden holding out her coat, a thick grey woolen affair, to the young woman. Blinking, she somehow managed to communicate enough confusion to amuse the older woman, judging by the nanoscopic uptick of one of the corner’s of the woman’s lips; something Dolores only noticed because she was a touch hyper focused.
“It’s a political statement as well. The jacket may protect you better than an entire squad. So don’t worry too much. I will want something in exchange for it.”
Very suddenly aware of the fact she was quite literally surrounded, Dolores swallowed and mumbled a prompt and almost tentative answer.
“Yes mam. Thank you.”
For the first time that night, a flash of pain appeared in the woman’s eyes.
“The old man, Johnny, you will tell me how he died?”
Ah. They were that kind of close then.
“I will. And I’ll make sure not to lose it.”
Taking the jacket, Dolores wrapped it around her shoulders and had to stifle a sneeze at the slight smell of clove cigarettes and gun oil. That would be a touch rude, after all.
Stepping out of the gate, their party was almost immediately accosted.
“Bellefronte!”
Hissing, all too much like her familiars, the young Magus immediately sent her escort a betrayed glare, very much feeling a trickle of cold sweat down her back as the party of six was stopped by a party of ten much, much more blatantly magical individuals. Leading them was a very familiar and very unwelcome sight. The man's usual white hair and violet eyes nearly unmistakable. Though she couldn't help but be disappointed. She'd hoped their encounter with that blast of lightning had ruined the man's pretty guy facade.
No such luck.
“If you think I’ll go without a fight, you’ve got another thing coming." She bristled, feeling her magic circuits humming to life.
“Calm yourself, girl.” The Warden stepped in front of your charge. “This wasn’t a set up. Policies.” She inclined her head to somehow seemingly unharmed, and still smirking, bastard across from her. “How can the Enforcers help you today?”
“Why, Milady, it seems you already have." The ringleader bowed his head gracefully "You see that little criminal over there? She owes quite a bit of money and had those debts called in this morning.” The sickly sweet, saccharine tone disappeared entirely, replaced by a dead monotone. “We’ll be taking her for processing, as per this writ of seizure.”
He handed over a rolled up parchment. A very official looking one.
The Warden, however, seemed less than impressed. Choosing to hand over the document to one of her aids without even opening it.
“And my custody overrides any non Enforcement and Neutralization warrant. Doubly so since she doesn’t have a sealing designation. So, Mr. Bellefronte, kindly move out of my sight. You are obstructing official business.”
“I think not, milady." He stepped closer. "That little brat has cost me too much to let her walk. So please, Dolores, why not be a good girl and come along. I’ll even promise to make it quick. Well, more so than if I have to take you myself at least.”
Almost snarling in outrage, Dolores at least had a moment to appreciate how impressive it was when all four Enforcers fell into formation around her and their boss with a single, silent step. Bellefronte's entourage seemed to tense up in response. Mercenaries and private contractors, they did not appear as enthused by the stand off. No one liked to face an Enforcer in straight combat after all.
The situation was about to escalate, violently.
The young woman cursed. What next?
Choice Time!
Last edited by Wyvern; April 21st, 2020 at 12:17 PM.
1. - Call Bellefronte out. The man has put you through too much to be allowed to leave unscathed. Reveal the truth of the kidnapping and his secrets to the Enforcers.
3
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
3
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
1. I feel that if we're going to make an enemy out of this man, we shouldn't simply make an ordinary enemy. We should do everything available to us to make it as personal and bitter as possible for when he tries to take his revenge later on.
3.
3
3 seems the most sensible route so far, but isn't there a way to also send Suibhne to call for help even with option 3, Wyvern?
Location: Clock Tower
Time: ???
I.D: Dolores Morella
Condition: Recovering
Magic Circuits: Unlocked
Magus Profile!
Parameters!
Inventory!
Day 0 - The Prison 3
Pulling the coat tight around her shoulders, she took a deep breath.
‘I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.’
Suibhne buried her face on the crook Dolores' neck for a moment, letting out a low purr, before hopping to the ground and twisting between the Magi’s feet. Most notably, she had a more than clear shot at Bellefronte, the most obvious threat to her mistress.
And because this was how today was turning out, Dolores found herself yet again standing close to what must have looked like a ticking time bomb.
‘An absolutely bracing kidnapping during a trip to the market for a bun, a totally unexplained assault by a Servant during said kidnapping, and then coming face to face with a burning child demon… Dolores my lass, you might be in an American action movie.’
In her defense, the young heiress’ day had been one life-threatening struggle after the other.
‘Visiting the safe house was nice. But I do suppose I’ll need to check and make sure its still hidden after I survive this.’ She paused. ‘If I survive this.’
Once more things were looking grim, but, for the first time in a far too long while, she wasn’t completely helpless against her adversary.
When she’d first blinked her way back into the world of the waking, in a town car stinking of gin and tobacco, circuits sealed and body weak there’d been nothing she could do but struggle. Now, however, she had options. And best of all, she had a friend. Special, even by the standards of Magi.
A powerful spirit.
It may not be something as unfairly overpowered as a heroic spirit, but an average Magus would be very hesitant to approach her. Nevermind a glorified, out of practice bureaucrat like Victorio Bellefronte.
‘I appreciate your honest praise, Kitten. But please, do not make me fight those freaks.’ Suibhne chimed in mentally, a note of mock cheerfulness to her tone.
Dolores blew a raspberry through their link.
‘Before, they had me at a disadvantage. Helpless. So I suppose that turnabout is more than just fair play.’ She was, of course, talking about the information she’d acquired on the mysterious servants attacking London and their importance not only to the Warden but also to the whole of the Clock Tower.
They wouldn’t be rid of her until she finished reporting every single aspect of her little adventure and recalled as many details as she could. Magically assisted and otherwise.
No matter how small the clue or insignificant the detail, any one might hold the key to finding and stopping the two Masters.
The other card up her sleeve was the possibility of her possessing a precognitive ability. Something she’d… tentatively proven to herself by following the mysterious images inside her head to find the culprits. However, that was no sure thing. This could have been a coincidence, a unique circumstance, a one off vision, heightened awareness of a magical congregation, or any one of a dozen other possible explanations aside from having inherited her mother’s gift.
However, the possibility remained. And that was something only a fool wouldn’t capitalize on, but for private and public gain. Preferably mostly hers.
Now, however, she was faced with a choice.
Should she get into a direct confrontation with Bellefronte and expose him, he would no doubt see it as an insult to his pride. And in turn their small feud would become a permanent fixture even after the crisis was over and her debt settled. She would humiliate him in front of the Magi he had roped into being his muscle, and they would doubtlessly spread the word through the grapevine.
It would crush his current influence and political capital and, without a doubt, make them mortal enemies.
Something she had been prepared to handle by her parents, admittedly. Such was the nature of a Magus’s upbringing, after all. “A Magus walks with Death” as the saying goes.
To that end, her youth was a boon and weakness. In a sense, Magi treasured children. As a living legacy, as students, and in that little flickering bit of humanity most had left, there was a general cultural appreciation for magical youths and what they might bring. Conversely, they were weak, lacked the experience and resources of an adult, and were so, so very innocent.
So that was the image she cultivated. Helped along partly by the fact it was true, she appeared to all and sundry to be an underprepared heiress simply not ready for the rigorous tasks expected of an adult magus. What very few realized is that she had been educated since a very early age to undertake such duties, Shaman’s being doubly aware of the fleeting nature of a human lifespan.
Most of her early life was spent learning how to compartmentalize her existence and define “Necessities”.
Survival being at the top of that very large list.
As the last remaining member of her family, Dolores had carefully crafted multiple roles or personas she could adapt to in order to get the most out of her relationships.
Dutiful student.
Dignified heiress.
Aloof classmate.
Playful friend.
Unaware crush.
Never once would she lie to others around her, other than perhaps by omission, but there was a code of conduct to be respected and played out for every person on her list. A script she had to follow in order to ensure she was seen as weak enough to not be a threat but not so weak as to be easy prey. Doing this and building a wide network of alliances with which to protect the Morello name and future was, truthfully, what she’d spent most of her ill spent youth doing.
Because Shamans were considered hermits, she had to be aloof and silent.
Because the Morellos were an old and established family, she had to be noble.
Because she was a Heiress, she had to be knowledgeable.
Those lessons were the pieces of the puzzle which made up the young magus known as Dolores Morello. A true social cameleon capable of changing her colors to match her surroundings while quietly fading away into the background. Relationships were weapons, tools, and treasures to be cherished.
‘Like the pure trust between partners’ She scratched the back of the familiar’s head, earning a purr of satisfaction. The debatable morality of induced sociopathy aside, she would never, ever manipulate or abuse her friends. Doing so undermined the sole purpose of having them!
Which was the reason why she had been carefully watching the Warden since their conversation.
To see what was the best way to get the woman on side.
Bellefronte’s appearance threw a wrench at her efforts. But that just meant she had to improvise.
Taking a step to the side, so as to put the Warden between herself and the other magus, Dolores clutched the woman’s cloak around herself tightly, trembling fingers digging into the material with desperate hope. She moved closer, locking eyes with the older woman, her own preganant with fear and tense with a faint hope that she wouldn’t be handed over to the group.
“I was lucky earlier, I escaped because of the attack.” She mumbled, drawing the too large cloak further around her, making herself seem as small as possible.
“Please… don’t let them take me again.”
With her familiar wrapped around her neck and eyes slightly watering, Dolores allowed herself to feel the weight of the day’s activities. Of her many near brushes with death. The emotion was there, barely leaking, stinging her eyes as she turned away from the woman at just the right time.
“I… I can’t stop them. You’re the only one who can. So… please?”
She didn’t have to imagine the worst case scenario. It was sitting right in front of her.
A small, heavily muffled sniffle escaped her. Barely.
“I don’t want to die.”
And that was the utter, Root’s honest truth. With the last flickers of adrenaline leaving her body, giving up that sheer refusal to lay down and die, she was only what she looked like. A small girl in a too big cloak and dirty, stained clothes. The fact her familiar materialized and was nearly as big as her torso helped sell it even further.
Bellefronte scoffed at the show.
“What a pitiful display, Miss Morello. You shouldn’t have run away if that’s all you really amount to. All that bravado and talk about your noble heritage only to hide and whimper? I’m honestly disappointed with you. But I suppose if crying helps you face your end, I can… tolerate it. Gentlemen, kindly seize her. And don’t be afraid to be a bit rough.”
He made to signal the mercenaries behind him. Only to find his hand couldn’t move, frozen halfway in place.
“I believe you heard me the first time, Mr. Bellefronte. You are obstructing the Warden of the Clocktower and official Enforcer business.”
Smiling, though with enough frost to chill Hell itself, Dominka repeated herself, eyes set on the man with a professional monotone. Not at all unlike her first warning. If anything, she sounded even calmer than before, as if Dolores’s small show of weakness hadn’t even registered with the woman.
The only difference was that of the dozen or so mercenaries escorting the Policies Official, more than half of them found themselves quite suddenly engaged with the marble tiles of the floor; a scant few managing to just bend the knee instead of face planting.
As for the bureaucrat?
He suddenly found himself unable to move, his body shuddering and struggling against an invisible force keeping him in place.
“W-What do you think you are doing?!” The man squawked in surprise, sparks flying up from where his feet seemed to be… twisting.. “Release me this instant!”
The Warden pinned him with a confused look, a glint of amusement in her eyes.
“I have no idea what you are speaking of, Official.”
The man’s pale cheeks colored in humiliation.
“You know damn well what you are doing. Release me!”
Dominika, far too professional to roll her eyes, simply gave the man a confused tilt of her head.
“I apologize Mr. Bellefronte. I am a humble Warden, not a cunning investigator. However, if I were to give my professional opinion, it would seem that you have activated some form of restraining curse. Perhaps one with a delayed activation or requiring a specific trigger? Nonetheless, it would only be a small thing to send one of my very capable officers to you. And I promise you they will get to the bottom of this.”
She pulled a pocket watch from her jacket, making a show of looking at the time as the man before her struggled and repeated his demands.
“I’m afraid I am running out of time, sir. If this will be all, I will leave you and your retinue to your own devices. I advise you to remain in place until our investigators arrive.”
She walked past the sputtering man, followed by the still meek Dolores and their escort, her fellow enforcers not even reacting as they marched past the restricted group as if they hadn’t just seen those men be driven into the floor. Dolores herself couldn’t believe it as she passed them by as well and offered the white haired man a small curtsey.
“Give Lord Rosenberg my regards.”
Dolores kept the smug satisfaction out of her face, though it did little to keep the man from glaring bloody daggers at both her and the Warden. It was perhaps, the first real taste of satisfaction the heiress had that day that wasn’t tainted by the possibility of her impending doom. And she was going to savor it for all it was worth.
Heart thundering inside her chest, the heiress followed the group out of the room and down another hallway.
That had been a close one.
Still a success, but close.
She’d only spent a few minutes around the Warden, so there was a very sizable chance of her declining to intervene further. Fortunately she seemed to have a simple yet sturdy core personality, something she’d need to be mindful of in the future.
‘We are safe, for now.’ She concluded. ‘But… if this is going to have ramifications on Lady Martinitz, I should make an effort to abrogate those consequences.’
‘Why not just use her and forget about this Warden, Little Kitten? Aside from the political opportunities her being a Warden offers you, it seems unlikely much could come to you out of her.’
Running her fingers through her partner’s fur, the shaman let a mixture of confusion, moral questioning, and a hint of angst slip through.
‘To be blunt, I have no desire to end up like Bellefronte. I do not wish to see others as tools. And besides, she’s gone out of her way for us, repaying that with later assistance is the right and the correct thing to do.’
“Heiress Morello.” Remaining in motion, the Warden began quietly, politely speaking. “Solving the issue of your debts is now a pointed issue. It would be best to do so as soon as possible. To that end, as I need to report to the Vice-Director on a number of issues, including your case, I would be willing to present your case to her for arbitration as well. You will find she has… little tolerance for politics of this kind. Unless, and I am quite serious in this, you wish to resolve the issue in another manner?”
Dolores felt her carefully constructed facade nearly crack as her jaw went slack.
The Vice-Director?!
‘Desperate times do beget desperate measures, kitten.’ Suibhne chimed in.
Dolores dearly wanted to disagree. There was desperation, there was overkill, and then there was Barthomeloi Lorelei.
But it wasn’t like she had much choice left. She could appeal to her Teacher and have him get involved to solve the matter. As a Lord, his influence would be more than enough to stalemate Rosenberg’s, if not outright bully him into letting go of his claims. And the third, less appetizing option would be to negotiate with her opposition, and that meant getting her cousin involved. Even if she did trust him, she simply didn’t know how much influence he had.
Dolores had to think fast. They were wasting time.
Choice Time!
Congratulations! Your relationship with Dominika von Martinitz has been upgraded!
Relationship Index!
Gotta be 2.
2
Yeahh, provoking the Vice-Director is asking for a bad time.
The Act of dozing off in the afternoon is a luxury indeed.
Coffee would be nice, though.
[Collection of my Servant Sheets]
Now Revamped!
2!
2
Location: ???
Time: ???
I.D: Dolores Morella
Condition: Recovering
Magic Circuits: Unlocked
Magus Profile!
Parameters!
Inventory!
Day 0 - The Teacher 1
“I appreciate your offer mam.” And Dolores really did. “But at the moment I’m not sure it’s wise to distract the Vice Director. As you yourself said, she has little tolerance for politics of this sort. Better to use less… extreme solutions, now that we have time.”
The Warden inclined her head.
“Understood. In that case, I shall escort you to the Department of Spiritual Evocation. With you safely in their care, it will prevent any misunderstanding with Policies from escalating.”
Nodding her agreement, the young Magus merely trotted along behind the older, stronger, more politically powerful woman. Because, quite frankly, it was just now occurring to her that she’d possibly been the cause of an interdepartmental dispute. The kind that could end up with century long grudges and blood feuds.
‘Only a teenager and you’re already making your mark Kitten. Well done.’
Her lazy familiar, currently holding onto her back and shoulder, merely rumbled in amusement.
The walk from the bowels of underground London to the Clock Tower was spent in amiable silence. The young shaman not wishing to annoy her benefactor or her men with her many, many questions. So it was a pleasant enough jog that saw the group escort her to the elevator leading up towards the main building.
And then through a small labyrinth of corners and turns.
All very dizzying.
And concerning.
There was just one thing beneath the Clock Tower, that being Spirit Tomb Albion, the corpse of a dragon that died trying to dig its way towards the Reverse Side of the World. Providing the most tightly regulated resources for the branch, many reagents and materials were harvested from the dragon’s corpse yearly.
It was also where the twelve Lords of the Clock Tower had their meetings. Or so went the rumours.
‘But to think that the Enforcer’s headquarters would also be down here.’ It made sense, no doubt about it. But most people never got to go so far down unless they worked for the department responsible for harvesting the dragon, or if they were being sentenced to a Sealing Designation.
Neither of which were applicable to her.
Or so Dolores fervently hoped.
Finally arriving at the Association proper, the Morella heiress let out a sigh of relief. She was finally, at long last, out of the underground of London, putting behind the collapsing tunnels and zombie attacks. Though she wasn’t out of danger just yet, that just meant she wasn’t at immediate danger.
Immediate being the key word.
“A Magus walks with death.”
“Indeed, young Heiress.” Dominika apparently having heard Dolores’s whispered prayer. “But unless you think a bit of light exercise will be your undoing, all that’s left is ten or so flights of stairs and we’ll be at your faculty."
Stifling a whimper, the young Magus’s aching feet having faded from a sharp pain to a more general, dull ache, the heiress merely gave her guide a wan smile.
“I’ve walked halfway across London and pulled glass splinters out of my feet. I shall survive a few… gentle stairs.”
Casually shrugging, the Enforcer accepted the riposte without issue.
“I was going to offer to carry you. But since you insist.”
Almost tripping, her guards actually emoted for the first time all night, snickering a bit.
“Don’t worry Heiress Morello. It’s not actually that bad. We just want to take a bit of a back route.”
One of the men, wearing a dark grey suit like all the rest, smiled at her and nodded.
“Safer that way. For you and us.”
Looking him over, Mattheus she thought, or at least she thought she thought that. The Enforcers were all so very wonderful at blending in. Still, the man was a bit on the older side and she noticed a patch of lighter skin where a wedding band might fit. When he smiled at her, it was an almost… parental kind of expressions, Dolores figured it was worth it to smile back.
Oddly, something she’d found herself doing a great deal around these very skilled, very dangerous men and women.
Unfortunately, that didn’t make the trek to the faculty of Spiritual Evocation any easier.
The various buildings belonging to the Clock Tower usually were accessed from the surface, allowing their members to participate in classes or giving them room to run their experiments or stored priceless reagents and tomes. They were places of learning, acting much like the buildings of any other academic campus.
Only they were scattered across all of Great Britain.
The one present in London, using the British History Museum as a base, belonged to the department of General Fundamentalists, with the other departments having buildings of their own scattered over the city.
The one belonging to Dolores’ own faculty just happened to be particularly far away from it. Much to her chagrin.
Trained Magus or not, she was not up for a marathon after spending the better part of a day dodging death, heroes and zombies. Had she not been raised to have a measure of personal pride, the young girl would have long since caved in and asked one of her escorts to carry her the rest of the way.
No matter how much her feet wished she did.
‘Come on, Morello. You can do it. We are close anyway.’
Ignoring the steady cramps in her calves and the blunt, bruising pain running along the mostly healed scratches on her feet, the young green haired girl pushed ahead. The access tunnel leading from the main building to the faculty of Spiritual Evocation wasn’t one she knew particularly well, but at the very least she had made it a point to use it every now and again.
If only so she knew of as many emergency exits as she could.
Running her fingers over the red-grey stone, Dolores took a moment to appreciate just how warm the old building’s flesh was. Dry, and a bit brittle, the weathered, age-old brickwork was positively ancient compared to the new buildings. But Evocation, either of the elements or of the spirits, needed mystery. It succeeded or failed on the history of the Magus in question and the place it was being summoned into. Which is why the summoner’s campus had been partially built from the old Roman sewers, slowly adapting them over the course of history.
This tended to make the secondary entrance… less desirable for usage by your average nobleman. But, fortunately for her feet, the one leading to her department was clean, smelled slightly of saw dust, and was well lit with a low, dim red light.
Of course, as they neared the surface, the tunnel seemed to brighten up. Shaft of natural light, or at least what seemed to be natural, though Dolores maintained a healthy scepticism, slipped through small gaps in the walls. Even the floor and the walls and the roof began to change.
At first, they began to shift and twist physically, steps appearing at odd angles, the tunnels themselves seeming to contract and expand.
But that was merely the first gate; a simple bending of space and, to a degree, time.
As their group pushed on colors seemed to slither and linger in their eyes. Reds would bleed, blues would run like water, greens would grow. Smiling, the summoner giggled as she watched Suibhne materialize and chase a particularly bright technicolor butterfly.
Impressively enough, the Enforcers didn’t visibly react to the stimuli around them. At least, not until they entered the third and final gate.
Space grew solid, time grew thick, the air itself was as honey.
Warmth suffused them all as a gleaming golden sun soared above them. Out in the distance, horizon stretching to infinity, loomed ancient cities that gleamed as bronze. Vast plains of sand and earth rose into billowing clouds and mighty sandstorms, armies roaring and screaming as they clashed. More than mere mortals led these fights though. Ancient wizards and twisted, bellowing, monstrous things clashed as the triumphant howls of ancient Man echoed across the distant battlefield to reach them.
“You know, if you’d tried to force your way in you’d have to fight through them.”
One of the enforcers stopped and stared off into the distance, staring at the least horrific of the monstrosities, and paled as the laughing manticore snapped out with its massive barbed tail and tore out a victim’s intestines in a single swipe.
“Come. It doesn’t do to linger. The Tableau of the Scorpion King is a powerful piece of magecraft. No one knows what happens if you watch it through to the end.”
Already the last Morello could see thick, glowing sigils forming in the skies. Powerful, twisted pieces of magic that she knew would herald truly terrible things.
“So unless you intend to undergo a Harrowing and join the Faculty, we should go.”
The sky split and twisted, a single utterly massive tentacle forcing its way out of the yellow sign carved into the once blue sky. Thankfully, the Enforcers, a bit awed at what they were witnessing, still had enough sense to lock their eyes on the slowly blackening sand beneath their feet and push ahead.
“Thank the Root.” It only took a few more minutes of walking for them to escape the enchantment, just as the Earth was shaking with the steps of something so great it's mere breathing almost knocked grown men to the ground. “I suppose I should be thankful that it wasn't as bad as it could be. We could have had to sit through Purgatorio or Inferno.”
Her smile turned grim.
“Paradiso, though, is something you must endure. I’ve known Magi who walked in and simply couldn’t bear to leave. So truly lucky.”
Finally, the group came into a small garden. Perhaps twenty meters by thirty meters or so, with a domed ceiling made of shining crystal. A pleasantly babbling brook framed a half dozen simple follies as it twisted and snaked its way through the area. Even more amusing was the white marble statuary and bright flora waving gently in a light, cool breeze. Somewhere, hidden to the group, birds chirped and squirrels chittered and Dolores marched over to a small picnic basket, nestled in the crook of an ancient, massive tree’s gnarled roots, and pulled out a bottle of cool water.
Drinking it down in a single, long go, she replaced the glass container and pulled it out again, once more full. This time, she used it to wash her face and clean a bit of the sand out of her hair.
“Come on. Don’t be shy. The exit is right over there, this is just a rest area.”
She could see the large set of oaken doors from where she stood, solid and polished with large bronze handles and a protection rune inscribed at the center to prevent impish spirits from using the access point. The massive door and it’s smooth stone steps simply standing, seemingly connected to nothing else, in the middle of the garden.
“Like I said. We’re very lucky. If I’d been cast out of the Clock Tower this wouldn’t be here. So it seems that the Faculty doesn’t consider my debts legitimate.” She paused. “Or at least the Spell doesn’t. And that’s even better. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed your trip through the Looking Glass? That’s what we call that little spell back there.”
“I’ve been here… before. But never seen… this.” Dominika seemed a bit confused, vaguely gesturing behind them. “Why did we see all that? What was it?”
Beaming with pride, Dolores smiled and answered.
“Magical graffiti!” Giggling again at their collective nonplussed stare, the Magus elaborated. “It’s tradition that, when you become a recognized Magus, that you make an addition to the Looking Glass. A minor enchantment of some kind. Usually. Some people have far more… artistic bent. It makes for an excellent defensive measure. As for why you haven’t seen it before, I assume you’ve always had a Master with you?”
The Warden nodded.
“Then it’s as simple as that. They passed through it for you. I’m not strong enough to control it, yet, but Time is as easy to manipulate as Space when you’re dealing with a Reality Marble.”
Her escorts stumbled for words. Or at least most of them looked at her as if she’d said something ridiculous and didn’t know how to react. The Warden, however, was far more composed than her fellows, pinning her with a simple inquisitive look.
“Explain.” Her tone brooke no argument. And Dolores wasn’t about to get into one anyway.
“As you are very much aware. A reality marble is the natural ability of daemons, be it minor or older specimens. They warp the world around us to suit their own unique view of reality. Spiritual Evocation deals a lot with those beings so we’ve learnt to… string them together, if you will.”
She hummed in thought, trying to find a better explanation.
“Think about it like carpet covering the floor. Each daemon can only affect so much space around itself, and the ones we summon and bind are minor enough that we can control them with little difficulty. They can only affect a small piece of the world, however. So we patch them together to affect a larger space. It’s a really old piece of magecraft, though the department treats it more like a hobby. And the daemons themselves are actually quite happy to help us. If you want, I could call up one or two?”
That got a choking noise from a few of the Enforcers and a low chuckle from Suibhne, who was even then casually chewing on the butterfly she’d caught. A butterfly made out of people’s faces, now that greenette was looking more closely.
“No thank you. That will not be needed. Thank you for the explanation, though, Heiress Morello. I suppose you stopped us here because you wish to discuss something with us?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I suppose I should warn you that I can’t actually control where that door comes out with much precision. We can reach any of the main departments, but I can’t take us straight to my Master. If you’d like, I can take us to where he might be, or we could go to the Department Head’s office.”
The group looked at their leader for guidance, after all they were there only to act as an escort, not an exploration party.
Lady Martinitz seemed to come to the same conclusion.
She turned to the small squad, voice stern.
“From this point forth, I shall accompany Heiress Morello into the department proper. I expect you to guard the entrance should any… untoward individuals try to follow us inside. Please make sure to properly dissuade them.”
Dolores clamped down on a giggle.
She would love to see Bellefronte and his thugs try to make it through the group. Would pay good money for it, even!
The Warden motioned for the door, lime green eyes meeting crimson red.
“If you would, Lady Dolores.”
The girl made a show of curtsying to the woman, face set in a demure appreciative smile as she reached for the massive handles, pushing them ever so lightly as a pulse of magical energy echoed through her fingertips until reaching her magic crest. The proverbial pass code.
Effortlessly, she pushed them open.
Now then… where should they go first?
Choice Time!
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