Threadbare

The Chase Is On Part III

The outer bailey went up in flames, to the sound of raucous cheering, and Chase conceded that it was possible she had lost control of the situation.

This is bad, Greta yelled over the roars of the mob.

We've been through worse! Chase yelled back, holding tight to her sister's hand as the rebellion swept into the castle.

But in her heart she knew this wasn't so. Every other time they'd been in a mix this bad, it had either been through her own machinations or as a reaction to someone else's plot. This time was different.

This time Daffodil Copperfield was in the mix.

It had only been two days since she'd joined his cell of the 'resistance', and she'd expected to have far more time to investigate him and ferret out his resources and backers. She was convinced he was either at the top of this little conspiracy, or working for someone who was.

But the first day had been a bust. She'd spent it delivering sealed envelopes across town... which worked out well, as Garon had contacted her with an urgent divination request for his bear friend. It had taken a little work to get the privacy and time to knock that out, but follow up divinations confirmed she'd gotten away with it.

Still, not three hours later, Copperfield sent down word that he needed her to rest and be at full strength for a protest. He'd taken her off the street, and the divinations she performed hinted that she was under scrutiny again. Which didn't match with the prior prayers and fortuna castings.

Once she'd seen that she'd immediately stopped anything even remotely suspicious, and gone and had a nice day on the town with Greta, doing light shopping and seeing the sights. There was nothing else to be done.

It was the give and take of undercover work, particularly when gods were involved. And because sapient people were in conflict, there was no way for gods NOT to be involved. They were highly powerful entities who, depending on who you talked to, were either all-seeing and all-powerful or at the very least capable of observing mortals in a way that couldn't be prevented and was rather rude, when one thought about it.

The counter to gods were other gods. If one gave too much information, then that gods' rival deity was permitted to give out an equivalent fact or secret. It was a good idea in theory, but in practice, well...

At the end of the day, every person who had five levels of the Cleric Job could talk directly to their god, and when you got a few dozen of them pressing for answers, even a god could get fed up with thinking up mysterious answers and hiding sacred truths in the form of obscure riddles and imagery.

This was the purpose of the God Squad, the twenty or so Clerics, Oracles, and Shamans that Garon and Graves had gathered to try and keep the future on track.

And they'd done pretty well... except where the conspiracy was concerned.

Which to Chase, meant that their foe had similar notions, or knew about the God Squad and was working around them.

Chase had a slight advantage with her fortuna cards. The art was unknown in this land, and it provided a non-divine way of seeing the future and reading people. But it paid for that with accuracy; the cards weren't always on target.

Case in point; the protest that had turned into a full-scale revolt.

Chase and Greta had just managed to get out of the crush of the crowd before it became a literal crush, when the wind whispered in her ear. Daffodil's voice. Again.

Berrymore. Follow them inside. Keep the stronger guards off their back. Head to the dungeons.

Chase bit back a curse. In there? Was he crazy?

We have to go in there! Greta bellowed in her ear. Copperfield says!

Damn it! If he'd messaged both of them, then she couldn't dodge this.

But for some reason, fortuna cards riffled in her mind's eye. For some reason, she saw the Midboss card slide from between her fingers, and fall to the table upside down, the armored figure on it scary and dangerous... but controlled by strings heading straight up to a shadowy hand. Reversed? Looked like it.

It was a vivid image, and she had no idea why she was thinking of it now. It wasn't an omen or a portent, but it meant something.

Fine, we're going in! Chase bellowed back. Keep that healer's cape tight around you!

The healer's cape was a strange tradition to Chase, but it made sense once she thought about it. This kingdom had known over a decade and a half of constant war. With the exception of the mad king and the daemons driving him, nobody really wanted to see excessive fatalities. There just weren't enough people to spare for that. And so both sides had compromised, and established rules for medics, people who pulled injured back to be healed once they were off the field.

You weren't supposed to kill people wearing healer's capes, and medics who wore them weren't supposed to fight. But things occasionally happened, so it wasn't a perfect protection. Still, it had been the only way that Chase was okay with her sister being out here in the middle of things.

The two halven pushed their way into the back of the crowd, keeping the taller folk between them and the burning parts of the front gate. Up ahead they could hear cries and yells of pain, sounds of metal on metal as enraged protestors ran into the castle guards.

What had they been protesting in the first place? Something about the Council being corrupt? Nobody had been quite certain, but everyone had been very angry. It had been Chase's job to shout down any opposition, literally Shout Down, using one of her higher level Grifter skills. She had to keep the crowd seething, until...

...until something happened. She wasn't clear as to what. That part got... muddled.

And as she struggled to move through the back of the stalled crowd, weaving between the forest of legs and butts that was the sad viewpoint of a halven in a mostly-human mob, the cards riffled in her mind again. This time it was the Game she visualized, a painted version of the bluish sphere that was Generica, the world she'd only seen from on high once when Hoon had literally lifted her out of her body to peer down at it. That fragile orb in a sea of green ones and zeroes...

It crossed the Midboss, and she didn't know why. Why was she remembering this? She wasn't. She knew all the readings she'd done over the last few days, and this wasn't one of them. A rattling noise intruded, as the image faded from her mind, a rattling like dice falling down stairs... and a figure in the shadows.

The game was right side up to her, but she wasn't reading for herself, was she? Which meant that the card was reversed... and if the mid boss was in the same reading, that meant it wasn't upside down at all, it was right side up...

Focus! Greta screamed, and Chase felt something push her forward and to the ground, heard screams and a groan of wood giving away as part of the flaming bailey hit the ground where she'd been standing.

Thank you! Chase said, as her sister helped her up. Looking around, she saw how near it had been, and saw a few crumpled forms nearby, caught by loose stones.

I'll drag them back and do the medic thing, Greta told her. Wait for me.

Of course, Chase lied.

She waited until Greta was well and away with the first casualty before she took off running. The crumbling wall had thinned out the crowd a bit, and she made up for lost time. Sorry Greta. This is too dangerous.

She knew Greta would be mad at her later, but this was a price she was willing to bear. Besides, if Copperfield wanted them both in the mix, then that was the best reason to keep one of them out of the fray.

Though it wasn't really a fray, she realized as she pushed through what turned out to be one of the boundaries of the crowd, and stumbled through a doorway into the great hall. The space opened up here, and without a clear goal, or really any particular driving force except for 'get them!' most of the rebels had dispersed. One was at the dusty big feasting table, scooping up silveware. Another was at the ornamental throne that had sat empty for three years, posing on it while an Artist friend drew instant portraits. A third one was throwing rocks at the chandeliers, knocking glowstones loose for their allies to scoop up below.

As rebellions went it was kind of lacklustre. Especially since this city was full of people who could easily mend minor vandalism.

This explains why the guards aren't stopping us, Chase thought. There were still sounds of sporadic fighting from down the hallways, but none of it sounded particularly deadly. This was a wise choice. Without a serious rallying point or a strong leader in the mix, this invasion would peter out and eventually the rebels would realize they weren't doing much and go home...

...and that's when Copperfield whispered in her ear again.

Berrymore. I need you to throw all your support behind the next person who starts speaking up.

No sooner had she parsed the words, when a stout human burst into the room. What the hells are you doing! The Council's holed up in their chambers! Kill the tyrants, crown the King!

The words echoed in Chase's head, resounding and she felt her heart swell with pride and anger...

And dissipate just as quickly, as she realized it was some sort of skill.

You have resisted Baron Wasteland's Incitation!

WILL+1

But looking around, and hearing the previously confused rebels start to roar in rage, she realized that she was one of the few. And when the stout man who was wearing clothes that seemed just a little TOO peasanty ran off down one of the hallways, the mob surged after him, howling for blood. The few that looked as confused as Chase shrugged and went with it, waving clubs, chair legs, and for the silverware snatcher, a heavy silver soup ladle.

Well he's good to go against any werewolves, Chase thought distractedly, and then realized she was alone in the room.

The cards riffled in the silence, and it took a second for her to realize that they were in her mind. An image floated up like a daydream, and she seized it, leaning against the table and breathing hard, trying to focus.

This was the third. This was the ally for the midboss.

Five clerics stood in a circle, abjuring a daemon. They held up their holy symbols, and their faces were stern and unsympathetic.

It was a rough card to pull. It meant loss, and salvaging what remains. It meant scorn and a distinct lack of help from others, and it meant that the Midboss had no true allies here. No friends in this game, no friends left.

So what else is new? Copperfield's voice whispered in her ear, and she almost mistook it for another Wind's Whisper. But no, she'd remembered this, hadn't she?

I never did a reading for Daffodil Copperfield, she muttered. She was certain of that.

Dungeons, someone whispered in her ear, and this time she jumped, squeaking, whirling around to see a sad looking human wearing a bowler hat and a gray suit. He had mutton chop mustaches, and a solemn pair of brown eyes behind thick, heavy lenses.

Those spectacles caught Chase's attention. They were rare in Cylvania. Perhaps one out of a few hundred people had them.

Who are you? she asked, and her voice sounded so very small in the now empty and wrecked room.

Please call me Mister Placeholder. We've got business in the dungeons. Didn't he notify you? Do lead the way, we don't have much of a window here.

There was something about his voice. Something distant, distracted, and almost bored.

In the distance, the mob roared and wood shattered, as the sound of crossbows snapping echoed through the halls.

But Placeholder's faint smile on his smooth-shaven lips never wavered an inch. He didn't even blink.

Of course, Chase said, staring at the most dangerous man she'd met this night. Right this way.

She hated having him at her back, but she had the very distinct feeling that if or when he wanted to end her, the exact positioning wouldn't matter much.

Halfway down the stairs to the first layer of dungeons, she heard a click-snap, and looked back with dread... just in time to catch him returning a pocket watch to his waistcoat.

Is everything all right? she whispered.

Mmm? Quite. The Guild reinforcements should be retaking the courtyard about now. The man's eyes narrowed. By the way, weren't there to be two of you?

My sister got lost in the crowds, Chase lied.

CHA+1

Pity. We'll sort that out later, he said.

That's what I'm afraid of, Chase thought. But she hurried down the stairs, collecting her thoughts. How to deal with this? Whatever was going on up top was looking more and more like a distraction, and she was getting the feeling that whatever this was, was the real task of the night. The true reason for all the mess and fury and chaos upstairs.

And the fact that she'd been folded into it boded ill for her chances at surviving. Chase was smart enough to know how conspiracies dealt with loose ends, particularly ones that were willing to sacrifice innocent farmboys for some undefined greater good.

The phantom sound of cards riffling into each other filled her mind again, and she stopped. Give me a second, please. I'm... tired.

CHA+1

Oh, oh that was bad. She was in danger, here. Two charisma gains from two lies? This was highly dangerous, and there were very big consequences if she got caught in an untruth.

Placeholder said something but she focused on the memories, or the visions, or whatever they were focused with her hands over her ears.

It was the choice. This card would be the Midboss's choice, and the card shown was a shady man in an alley, a man in a hooded cloak with all his face in shadow save for the eyes. He was flipping a coin up and down with one hand, and the other was drawing a dagger.

The ace of rogues. But facing toward her, which meant it was reversed.

A false start. Greed and gain, but for a hollow prize. A venture that would ultimately come to nothing. Something that wasn't worth the price?

You made a bad bargain, Chase whispered.

Sorry? Placeholder asked.

No, it's... nothing, Chase said. Which level do you want to go to? They were keeping us in the comfy dungeon, but there's not much down there.

The labs, was his answer. I believe they should be the floor below your prior residence.

Chase being Chase, she knew exactly where they were. She'd gone exploring one night, just to make sure that she could escape the castle if need be.

That would be the big metal door with all the runes on it, she ventured.

That sounds about right, Placeholder confirmed.

The one with the big 'danger, stay out, active arcane traps' sign.

I am reasonably certain that is the door.

The one that I tossed a pebble against and watched the pebble literally disintegrate.

Ah! Definitely the one, then.

You ah, you don't want me to open it, do you? Chase asked.

Heavens no. You're unqualified for that. Leave that to me.

And then what? Chase asked.

And then it will be open, Placeholder said. There it is.

There it was, indeed. A thick door set into a metal frame in the otherwise stone wall, shedding the equivalent of a holiday light spectacular from the glowing runes adorning it. Chase was no engineer, but it looked thick, sturdy, and impervious to anyone who wasn't a master craftsman. And that was before one took into account all the warning signs placed on the wall, and the glowing panoply of doom.

Hm. Looks like a standard setup. Type twenty-nine H, with added structural braces. Do stand aside please, Miss Berrymore.

She glanced back and did a double take at what she saw. Placeholder's spectacles had been silently replaced with flat black metal goggles, and he was pulling on a set of metal gloves with what looked to be twisting wires sliding out of seams and tasting the air, like snake tongues or questing worms.

Uneasy, she stepped aside, and as he bent to work she knew it was now or never.

Chase turned her head and whispered Foresight.

The world slowed, and turned ghostly. She watched, a step out of herself, as she whispered more words. She watched the ghost image of herself turn and look at Placeholder, who didn't react in any way she could see.

It's safe, Chase thought, and then time snapped back into synch and she was back in her own body. This was the Oracle's most basic and greatest power; the ability to peer slightly ahead in the flows of time, to predict the short-term with unerring accuracy.

And reassured, Chase mouthed the words she'd planned to say, watched her future self say. Silent Activation Size Up. Silent Activation, Diagnose.

Your Silent Activation skill is now level 55!

Your Silent Activation skill is now level 56!

Your Size Up skill is now level 21!

Sizing him up revealed few surprises, save for a few conditions she'd never seen before.

Placeholder

Charisma Moderately worse

Perception About equal

Willpower Moderately better

Wisdom Slightly worse

Influencing Conditions Unswayable, Stiff Upper Lip, Complete the Mission

But the Diagnosis had some interesting overlap.

Placeholder

Conditions: Complete the Mission

Debuffs: Eidolon Conditioning

From what Chase had learned by using these skills, from what she'd seen on the targets prior to this man, Unswayable and Stiff Upper Lip looked to be buffs from skills. But Complete the Mission showed up both as an influence and a proper Condition. This was due to some overlap between the words that defined reality, where some things were conditions that weren't CONDITIONS, and it was all very confusing.

In addition, given that it was a debuff there was a likely chance that Eidolon Conditioning was a proper Condition as well, given that it even mentioned it in the title.

If that was so, then there might be something Chase could do with that. Maybe. In the split second before he killed her if she guessed wrong.

But then, every Oracle could live between the seconds, dance between the strands of time to some degree. Chase calmed herself with that notion, prepared her mind for what was to come.

And as she did, she decided that given the lies she had told, given the persona she was playing, she could risk a question or two.

What are we trying to do? What am I supposed to do when we get in there? Chase asked.

Your best, of course, Placeholder said, running a tuning fork over a rune and watching it pop and sizzle away to nothing. Just assist me, and defend me to the best of your abilities. I believe you can heal, yes?

The noise came again, and for a second she'd thought one of the runes was cooking off. But no, it was the cards riffling. This was the last one, if it held true to the pattern. This was the Midboss' greatest enemy.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, despite the highly magical and deadly door that could go off and blast the hallway clean of her if Placeholder slipped, despite the knowledge she was going to have to fight in a second, Chase closed her eyes and concentrated.

This one was harder to pull up. And it was difficult to keep reign on her imagination, keep from seeing the picture she wanted to see.

Two rogues were sacking a room, one stuffing coins into a bag, while the other stood watch on a light doorway, showing a grand party beyond. There were many more treasures to steal, but a door to the side was opening, and a mailed boot was stepping through.

The two of rogues, she thought. Too many options, problems prioritizing. Time works against you.

And this was the enemy. Time working against him. Was it a him? She thought so and couldn't say why.

Dice falling down stairs again, the sound echoing. Her brain felt scorched, hollow.

Why was she remembering a fortune she'd never cast? Why was this drifting back to her now?

Clink.

She thought the sound only in her mind, but Placeholder shot a look at her, then down to the floor.

Down where a single coin had slipped from her coinpouch. A seam had popped and was dangling, and the coin rattled and rolled.

For the gods sakes woman, please don't fiddle with your wallet, snapped Placeholder, the first sign of stress he'd exhibited thus far.

Chase scooped it up... and saw the winking visage of Hoon staring back at her.

Her god.

This was a portent, she realized. She was either seeing something in the future, or remembering a shard of something that could have been. But...

This was a hell of an intervention. This was big. And the fact that it was hitting now meant she had to solve it now.

Ready, Placeholder said, and the door fizzled. We're breaching in three. Two. One!

Foresight, Chase replied.

And the second the vision was done, she leaped for cover.

With a crackling sound, black bolts of energy bathed the hallway, flames roared to life, metal pinged off stone as bolts, arrows, and bullets ricocheted off the walls, floors, and ceilings, and in the half-second before Chase buried her face in her arms she saw a kitchen sink go flying past the whirling, dodging, slightly smoldering figure that was Mister Placeholder.

It was nice and dark in the crook of her elbows as she hugged the wall, hugged herself, and sat very small and very frightened in the only safe place her oracular skill had been able to find.

She relished every second of fear, because she knew it wouldn't take long to end. And just as she'd seen it, the storm of energy and projectiles ceased, leaving the really hard part ahead.

Choking down her fear, shuddering and shivering, Chase charged through the door.

There had been some concern about this part, but her Foresight had told her she'd live at least two more seconds.

So she used them to watch in amazement as one man fought the best arcane forces that Cylvania could bring to bear, and held his own.

The arcane workshop was filled with people, and at least a third of them were down and bleeding. As she watched Placeholder blurred, torso swaying so fast he left afterimages, as bolts of energy tore past him. He threw a knife, buried it in the skull of a mage, then flickered to the falling body and pulled it free of the man's forehead and swiped it across a man-sized wooden puppet's throat. The head came off the shoulders, and Placeholder whirled, used the momentum to throw the blade again, then was gone from Chase's sight.

His lips had been moving the whole time, she realized. No wonder he'd been so distant and remote. He'd been saving all his Moxie for the fight, and countless Silent Activations.

But as he flickered away, she realized that there had been blood on his suit. And charred patches. He wasn't invincible.

Was he the Midboss?

And then she yelped as a lightning bolt crackled inches over her head, scorching her scarf. She did what any sane Halven would do and ran, diving under a table...

...and freezing, as a tiny bayonet stabbed toward her eye, halting an inch away.

Stop right there and surrender! A tiny voice chimed. You're my prisoner!

Buttons, wait!

Oh, that was a familiar voice. Apollyon? Chase asked, eyes focused on the small knife an inch away from making her a cyclops.

She's good, Apollyon said over the din, leaning in and peering under the table, shooting glances up toward the fight. Shit! Control Earth! he said, thrusting out a gauntleted hand, as stone cracked and crumbled.

The blade pulled back, and Chase saw a grinning wooden nutcracker, sans beard, and wearing a doll-sized uniform. The musket she was holding looked very deadly, for all it was small, and that bayonet had blood on it. You here to help? Buttons asked. Then do something useful! I didn't spend all my guild credit and hazard pay to get this new body just to lose it like this!

I chipped in too! Apollyon protested, then whipped a shield up as a knife clanged off it. Oh shit he noticed me!

As the words sunk in, Chase knew what she had to do.

Foresight! she said, and watched Placeholder punch a knife through Apollyon's breastplate and gut him like a fish.

Shield right! she yelled, and Apollyon barely got his arm over in time. Placeholder's blade slid off, and he stumbled back a half-step...

and right into Buttons' bayonet as she jabbed forward. Ha!

It was a hell of a wound, and blood spurted. But Placeholder made no sound, just caught himself on the table, losing the knife as he did so. Chase saw charred holes in his waistcoat, saw wounds that went down to the bone in some places, bloody and raw, or seared by energy. How is he still alive? She wondered. How is he not screaming and writhing in agony?Is he the Midboss?

He might be, she realized as the man tore Apollyon's shield from his arm and beat him with it.

Control Earth! Apollyon shouted desperately as he got his arm up in time to keep his skull intact. Stone rippled up from the floor and surrounded him, but Placeholder's hands were a blur as the shield hammered him repeatedly, the sound blending together as Apollyon staggered, blood oozing out from the cracks in his shell as he fell to his knees, one arm buckling and crunching as it broke and bent the wrong way.

Fuck that noise! Buttons yelled, fiddling with her musket. Fast Load! Dum Dums! Rapid Fire!

And as she shot, as blood sprayed from Placeholder's thighs, crotch, and gut, he hurled the shield like a frisbee, narrowly missing Chase, catching Buttons full on, and carrying her off, screaming, a scream that ended with a very lethal-sounding wooden CRUNCH.

Placeholder paused, and Chase looked around, looking for help.

There weren't many options. Most of the people in this room were down, and the ones that weren't were hiding behind cover.

He didn't bother with the flicker flash again, as he walked toward Apollyon, bleeding and dragging slightly. With one hand he pulled a potion from his coat, and with the other he drew Apollyon's sword from its sheath.

With horror, she realized what he was about to do.

Then his eyes turned on her.

Some healing if you please, Miss Berrymore. He sounded as if he was asking the weather. Half his ribcage was exposed, his limbs were a sea of blood and gristle, and his face was covered with bright red burns, and he was as calm as he'd been not a minute ago in the hallway.

Something was keeping him up. Something let him work, despite this damage.

And with that, she realized what she could do.

It was a fifty percent shot. But she'd always been one to play the odds.

So she came out from under the table, ran to his side as he raised the sword, and she slapped him on the leg as she said Absorb Condition, Eidolon Conditioning.

LUCK+1

Placeholder's eyes went wide.

Then, with a scream, he fell down, gurgling and rolling on the floor, clutching himself.

And in the back of her mind, Chase knew that she should feel happy about that, satisfied or victorious. But she couldn't. She was numb, and cold, and it didn't matter.

Steel whispered and there was pressure on her leg, and she saw that Placeholder had managed to flail and rip her ankle open. She fell back, crawled away, operating purely on reaction, and said Lesser Healing, until the wound was shut.

A part of her knew she should be panicking, but she wasn't. She couldn't. It was as if she were watching herself from a very long distance away.

She didn't know if she liked it.

But it was useful, she admitted, as she stood on her newly healed foot.

Chase Berrymore? another familiar voice asked, and she glanced over to see Mister Graves stepping out from behind an overturned table, keeping a pair of wands trained on the now-still form of Mister Placeholder. What are you doing here?

And when she saw the shadow coalesce behind him, the darkness growing eyes and reaching out for him, she reacted without hesitation. This thing looked deadly, so she used the most lethal combination she had.

Cardsharp, Double Down, Rapid Fire, Flame Cards, Unerring Strike

In a heartbeat, the silvered cards were in her hand, the ones as sharp as razors. In the space between heartbeats the one she threw turned into three, then burst into flame as they spiraled out to the creature that was wrapping itself around Mister Graves.

The creature screamed as the cards struck home... but it screamed with Graves' voice.

She blinked.

The creature was gone, and Graves collapsed to the ground, scorched holes in him from where her cards had caught him.

Illusion, she realized. And just as she thought that, a bare patch of the wall shimmered, and a figure stepped out from behind another illusion, adjusting his shirt over his wooden chest.

Daffodil Copperfield.

She had been tricked.

But in her numbness, in the cold clarity that her world had shrunk down to, she knew what to do.

And rather than waste precious seconds, rather than stand there and wail or stare cluelessly, she spoke the words that activated the most powerful Oracle skill she had.

Rewind Time.

Copperfield stepped back, and the wall shimmered, hiding him once more. Graves made an awful noise and stood, the shadow monster illusion reappearing as the cards shot back to her hand, extinguishing their flames as they went, and forming back into a single card

which Chase put into her pocket, as Graves continued speaking. Berrymore, I need you to talk to me.

Instead, she said Truesight.

Copperfield stared at her, and now that she had time to study him she realized he was wearing the same clothes as Graves. Had he been planning to duplicate the man and walk out of here? To replace him?

This changes nothing, he said, and Graves stopped cold, looking around. I hope you realize that. But she had spent a long time reading people, listening to the slightest differences in tone and pitch, and she thought she detected annoyance in there. Annoyance and more. Just the slightest hint of fear.

What is this? Graves said, looking around to the dead and dying. Well, whatever it is some reinforcements won't go amiss. Create

He never finished the sentence. Suggestion! Copperfield snapped. Have a nap, you're tired and it's safe.

And just like that, Graves fell over, snoring as he hit the ground, wands clattering to either side.

You need me to kill him, Chase said, stepping toward Copperfield.

The man nodded. Yes. And you can do it of your own volition, or I can tell you to, and alter your memory to make it think it was your own idea. So which will it be?

He folded his arms, and clattered his fingertips against his biceps...

...and it sounded just like wooden dice falling down the stairs.

With that, realization crashed down.

It had been for him. She had told his fortune, and he had wiped it from her mind.

Except he hadn't counted on her god.

No you can't, she said, her voice even and steady. Midboss.

He froze, jaw open, showing his white wooden teeth.

You're trying to do too much at once. Time's against you. Run now if you want to cut your losses. The prize here is hollow, you know that because I told you that already.

CHA+1

You think this matters? Belltollia will have its day! We will rule... Copperfield caught himself, and took a step to the side, sliding along the wall as she pulled out a different set of cards.

Her fortuna deck. Now glowing slightly.

If you stay, I'm going to draw. she said. And you know what these can do. You know what I am...

He ran.

She let him go, watching the door for a moment, to make sure he wouldn't come back.

Then she bent down, and began healing the wounded, saving who she could.

At some point Graves woke up and started asking her questions, but she shook her head. She knew that her undercover time was done, and there would be a lot of questions asked of her ahead.

But now she felt a little more confident about the answers.

She had done her part, she thought.

And if there was no joy at that thought, what of it? This condition muted her emotions, but it also controlled her fear.

Why shouldn't she keep it around? It was only logical, really...