11:02 PM | The Ninsirsir, Deck 3 | December 31st | 1608 COVENANT

  Tar-Isgansar was not a particularly impressive man, by Lamu's reckoning, at the very least not physically. The Idealists (or Iconists, or whatever you wanted to call them) who effectively ran much of the modern world loved, despite being largely ancient themselves, to depict the leading figures of the Humanist movement as decrepit ghouls far past their time, withered not just politically but physically. Propaganda tended to depict them as almost lich-esque, dressed in flamboyant and outdated fashions with thick, effeminate makeup covering the leather-like skin clinging too tightly to their bones.

  Of course, this was a baseless stereotype; most Humanist holdouts were rich, and rich people just didn't look like that nowadays. There were no Annas left in the world, with the science of physical regeneration progressing even as that of mental regeneration had ground to a halt.

  But, she had to admit - whether it was the result of apathy, medical incompetence, or simply bad luck - the figure on stage came uncomfortably close. He didn't look old, per-se, but was fragile in a way that made his youthful features extremely uncanny. Lamu had seen pictures of him from his time in office, but it was traditional for male First Administrators to grow out large, often-braided beards, and now shaven his face was extremely squat, which stuck out especially because every other part of him was long. His fingers were spindly to a degree that could be discerned from the other side of the room, and he was built like a rake, halfway to seven feet but so skinny he looked like he could be knocked down with one punch. He'd let himself go grey, too, the wispy locks falling just past his ears. The tyrian purple cloak that hung over his shoulders felt more like cosplay than a symbol of power, and his eyes were sallow.

  Still, there was an unsteady vitality to him as he took the podium, like a fading music star still filled with passion for his art despite the world having lost all interest in it. (Though evidently not completely--The applause that greeted him was by far the strongest of the night so far.)

  "Thank you! Thank you," he said, holding up a hand. "What an audience tonight. It's so wonderful to see you all here, friends old and new. May the gods bless you all. I trust everyone's been enjoying themselves?" The crowd offered a general murmur of approval. "Wonderful, wonderful. Quite a set of acts tonight, eh? From music to comedy to, uh, performances whose nature cannot easily be described in the Ysaran tongue." Awkward laughter. "I joke, I joke-- It's all been wonderful. And the food of course - thank you to our executive chef Anbessa - and of course to you, Maria, for hosting tonight." The woman smiled curtly, and there was a little more applause. "As always, I take full credit for hand-picking all of our entertainment tonight, unless there was anything you didn't like, in which case please direct all your complaints to my Paulos, my secretary, who is surely responsible, and the auction, for which I must remind everyone there are no refunds." Slightly less awkward laughter.

  Malko sneered in disgust. "Good god, listen to him--" He swallowed awkwardly, possibly hiccuping. "Listen to him ramble. He sounds like my great-grandfather during one of his episodes. ACD is setting in, I'd stake my house on it."

  Lamu didn't think he sounded that bad, to be honest.

  Gudrun tried to say something in response, but her speech was slurred to the point of being incomprehensible. It must have been funny in her view, though, because afterwards she started laughing again, practically collapsing into her own arms.

  "I know I'm not much of a performer myself, so I'll try to keep this brief," Tar-Isgansar continued, clapping his hands together. "As much I'd l'd like to focus on the fun we've all been having, I know the lion's share of you don't come to these evenings for the distraction. And this has of course been another difficult year for many of us. This war, and the political interests pushing for its continuation, continue to do irreparable harm to our society and, yes, many of our livelihoods. I know we have a diverse audience tonight - not just associates of mine from bygone days, but business leaders, visitors from the Triumvirate, and yes, even some figures in the current administration." He held up his hands. "Now, of course I'm not here to lecture anyone or start any fights. But: As I've said before, just the fact that we're sitting here together, tonight, is a great thing that gives me hope for the future."

  Lamu started to tune the speech out a little, returning to fretting about the upcoming meeting with Nhi. It was almost time, but Gudrun seemed like she was going to be completely useless in this state. What a fucking fantastic idea bringing her had been.

  "This prick," Malko muttered under his breath. "This prick. The same speech, here, every time. Every time. Feel like I'm in-- In purgatory."

  Theo frowned. "Mal, uh, maybe you should think about getting an early night."

  "Theo!" He attempted to look at him seriously, but could barely focus his eyes. "Theo, don't be ridiculous. It's not-- It's not even midnight. We need to ring in the new year."

  "I don't know if we do," he replied with a flat concern.

  "I believe we've turned a corner," Tar-Isgansar continued. "Ten years ago, it would have been unthinkable to question the direction of the Grand Alliance, the course of the war, or the economic and media oversight of the state enclosures." (This was in reference to state-run territories outside of the freeholds; the Humanist position had evolved to one where areas where land wasn't consolidated under the control of private consortiums were considered unseemly exceptions, failures that had slipped through the cracks of the world's order.) "But now voices in independent media and in local and national government are speaking out louder and more confidently, and freeholders across the Mimikos and the colonies are turning against division in favor of equitable compromise. How that compromise might take form-- Well, we're not there yet. But there's something in the air tonight, and I feel strongly that we're all going to be walking away into a better world when this is over."

  "Delusion! Fucking--" Malko raised his voice too high for a moment, quickly correcting himself. "Does he not see how many cities are getting hit? Does he not see the opinion polls coming out of the state shitholes, the increasingly deranged horseshit coming out of Tar-Shalmant's mouth?" Tar-Shalmant was the contemporary First Administrator; though a cutthroat egomaniac in his own right, his imperial affect (and, possibly, explicit aspirations) was undercut by the fact that Idealism was definitionally a cultural nationalist movement, making local rulers more popular. "These people are going to be the death of all us. They'll have everyone who isn't fucking a hole in a flag up against the wall in a decade if the Triumvirate doesn't kill us all first."

  "'s pretty fuckin' boring," Gudrun, who seemed to be rapidly losing energy now that the conversation had turned from black humor to genuine political despair, remarked.

  "I know it's been tough. But, I've always believed that it's a simple truth that there's almost no obstacle that can't be overcome by enough friends willing to share a drink." He smiled brightly. "Can you imagine what the founders of the Grand Alliance might be saying, were they with us here tonight? Would they be in despair? Absolutely not. I bet they'd be amazed and overjoyed to see the garden they sowed is still growing strong four entire centuries later, and that the world they loved has known relative prosperity for longer than their own lifetimes. Regardless of the petty concerns of the day." He rose his glass. "We're weathering this storm, everyone. Let's all hold our heads high as we bid farewell to 1608, and welcome a brighter--"

  Later, Lamu regretted not paying exacting attention at this moment, because between the lighting and their distance from the stage it proved, despite the simplicity of the scene, surprisingly hard to piece together the specifics of what had happened.

  The impression she eventually arrived at was this: At some point around the time Malko finished speaking, a copper-haired Inotian man - based on his garb, probably one of the lower-ranking plus one guests, and likely young - had started lurking at the edge of the steps leading up to the stage, kneeling down at the corner of the room as if he'd dropped something. Then, in the space of a single moment, he turned, leapt up, and rushed Tar-Isgansar like a charging bull, shouting something that was muffled by the yells of the crowd. There was a security officer at the opposite corner of the stage and another who quickly emerged from behind the curtain, but neither were fast enough to intercept him immediately, and the former First Administrator himself seemed utterly taken off-guard, his face not even registering surprise before he was on the ground.

  Though she didn't think it at the time, there was an irony to it. As Nhi had assured her and as she knew herself, the entire room was set up to defend against every serious threat imaginable; if anyone had pulled out a gun or whispered the first word of an incantation, or even tried to bring anything that could conceivably have been a bomb on to the ship, the enchantments would have incapacitated them instantly. And the staff had probably all been so heavily vetted that the Laodike Foundation, whoever they were, knew where the the replication source of the diapers they'd worn as children.

  The one thing they weren't prepared for, however, was a guest - someone who was supposed to be part of their in-group - coming at them with a steak knife left over from the dinner.

  He only took one blow before some arcanist or one of the defenses knocked the young man backwards, shredded his resistances in the space of two seconds, then hoisted him into the air with his arms spread like he was being crucified-- But it was more than enough to send the room into an uproar. Half the people in the room rose from their seats at once, scrams and cries of 'dying gods' and 'someone help!' coming from all directions.

  Quite a few people did help, in the sense that the room almost instantly flooded with more security detail than Lamu had ever seen in one room before, which was an accomplishment considering her previous vocation. There were arcanists zipping around the air, men with guns in every direction. Even some golems were skittering down the walls.

  Malko rose partly out of his seat himself. "Fuck me!" he half-shouted. "Did-- Was that a knife?"

  Theo adjusted his glasses and he looked onward with concern himself, while Gudrun alone seemed somewhat indifferent, her eyebrows marginally raised as she took another sip of her drink.

  Lamu rose herself to get a better view of the stage, where the collapsed form of Tar-Isgansar could be seen, now flanked by a growing number of aids, stagehands, and security officers. "I'm-- I'm alright," he gasped, the voice magnification still active. "I'm-- Aghh! Oh, god, they--" It cut off abruptly, the lights coming back to full blast as the scene became increasingly chaotic.

  "This is insane!" Malko remarked. "Theo, did you see who-- Did you see who it was? What they were saying?"

  "I, no, I didn't," he replied anxiously.

  "They stabbed him! They just went up there and stabbed him!"

  "I know."

  "Is it the Thousand Swords? The Greyflags?"

  "I don't know!" Theo declared, throwing his hands into the air.

  Malko ran a hand over his face. "Gods above," he slurred. "It's all falling apart. It's all falling apart."

  Gudrun started laughing again, though it was unclear why.

  Someone took the stage, a different woman from the one who had been overseeing the evening so far, dressed in a far more serious black chiton and trousers. She yelled something at one of the stagehands, then spoke over the agitated crowd. "Everyone, please remain calm. We do not have reason to believe there is any danger, but we are temporarily evacuating the ballroom to assess the situation. Please proceed, in an orderly fashion, to one of the three exits to either the lounge or bar area, or to the hallway so as to return to your rooms. Do not approach the stage area for any reason." She hesitated; one of the men around Tar-Isgansar was speaking to her, and she glanced towards him for a moment. "...we will endeavor to re-seat you shortly, or else relocate the new years ceremony to the upper deck. Thank you."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Theo rose to his feet quickly, but Malko and Gudrun were both motionless, the first mumbling to himself in apparent stupification while the latter continued to be amused by the situation.

  Lamu was cursing to herself; now that this development had sunk in, she realized it was going to affect their ability to make contact with Seth. She could tell that Theo would take any excuse to slink out of it. (Other, darker thoughts were buzzing in the back of her head too-- Was the Brotherhood behind this, stirring chaos to put whatever plans they had in motion?)

  "Let's stay together," Lamu said quickly, before instantly realizing that she couldn't stay together for long because she had to meet with Nhi. "...for now. We'll go to the..." She almost said 'bar', but then hesitated as she looked again at Gudrun and Malko. "...lounge."

  "I don't know if that's a good idea," Theo said, his hand on Malko's shoulder as he tried to get him to snap out of his stupor. "It, er, might be dangerous here. Perhaps it'd be best if we went back to our rooms."

  Malko looked at him. "Danger? Y-You think we're in danger too, Theo?" He sounded genuinely fearful of the prospect.

  The other man seemed to instantly regret his choice of words. "I only meant-- I only meant that we don't know what's going on. I'm sure it's fine, but it might be easier to just, be somewhere away from this commotion, while they figure things out and it settles down." He smiled hesitantly, trying to steer him from the table. "We'll come back for the party, I'm sure, we just need to..."

  "Theo," Lamu spoke stonily.

  "They hate us so much now," Malko moaned. "It's all that's left of them, and only meaning in this fallen world. Just hate."

  "It's okay," Theo said. "We're just going to, uh..." He looked at Lamu, then at the door. "We're just going to-- We'll talk soon. We'll just--"

  "Theo."

  It was too late. He'd abandoned her, and they were already disappearing into the crowd that was now massing around the room's rear as people started trying to leave in just about the least 'orderly' fashion Lamu could conceptualize. And Gudrun was still laughing.

  Lamu put her hand on her shoulder. "We need to leave."

  She continued for several moments before even processing Lamu was talking to her, looking up in conclusion. "Huh? Why?"

  "They're evacuating the hall," Lamu replied coldy.

  Gudrun stared at her like a confused animal for several moments, her jaw slack, then broke into a wide smile. "Oh, right! That guy-- They fuckin-- Did you see that? That kid totally fucked that dude! Knifefucked!" She giggled. "That was the funniest shit I've ever seen in my life, dude!"

  "We need to leave," Lamu repeated. "It's almost time for the meeting anyway."

  "He didn't even try to fight him! He just left, pooft!" She flopped a hand down to the table in an illustration of the point. "What a little bitch! What a--"

  Lamu grabbed her by the side of her arm and moved for the doors. By now, the area around the stage was swarming with so many people that the area where the first administrator had fallen was completely concealed, five arcanists hovering in the air and the guards forming a line to block all approach. The culprit of the attack was nowhere to be seen; she couldn't imagine what fate awaited him after a stunt like that.

  It made her worried. If everyone was here, then what would happen if there was another attack somewhere else? It felt like they were being herded like sheep.

  In the end, though, nothing seemed to happen. The staff were quick in ushering people out, and soon they were back in the hall and, shortly following, their room. To her surprise, the arcanist assigned to her protection did not stay behind on account of the crisis, but instead subtly followed them out and down the hallway, offering her an incline of his head when they made eye contact. The people running this weren't flippant, she'd say that much.

  Gudrun had finally calmed down a bit by the time they returned, but was still smirking like an idiot, going straight for the snack cabinet upon their return. (How did she have the room after devouring every course, including a second serving of dessert? Was she even human?) Lamu quickly got out her logic engine, going over her history for Nhi's contact details.

  "Man, this is bullshit," Gudrun moaned. "I left my glass! And the booze here sucks ass compared to what they had out there!"

  Lamu made the summons, her lips pushed together tensely. It hung for a long time, to the point that she started to worry, but finally she picked up.

  "Lilith, good," Nhi said. "I was hoping you'd call."

  She frowned. "What do you mean. You could have just done it yourself."

  "Well, things are a liiitle bit messy on my end right now, as you might imagine," she explained. "This gives me an excuse to step away. I assume this is about our meeting?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you in one of the side halls, or did you go back to your room?"

  "We went back. It didn't feel safe to stay in the crowd with everything going on."

  "Well, you needn't have worried about that. We're making sure to keep a pretty close eye on you through multiple channels, regardless of what happens. This is good, though-- We're still a little while off, but let's bump the meeting up to now."

  Lamu squinted. "First you push it forward and now you're pulling it back?"

  "Hey, what can I say? The world keeps on turning." She paused for a moment, then continued. "You remember where I said to meet?"

  "The Obsidian Lounge," Lamu recounted.

  "Give me a couple minutes, and then I'll be there," she said. "We'll need to wrap this up quicker than I expected."

  "What's happening? Is this an attack?"

  "No no no! Nothing that exciting. Seems like a lone wolf situation, the son of a long-time guest who's been radicalized. But, well, it's got people pretty worked up, I'll say that." When someone was very distracted using a logic bridge, sometimes a sort of mental static came through - stimuli that didn't make sense or felt incomplete - and there was a lot of that in this conversation, meaning Nhi was probably very distracted. "Oh, and come alone for this, if you would. Your bodyguard can wait outside if you want."

  She disconnected before Lamu had a chance to reply.

  She turned back towards Gudrun. "I'm going to speak with Nhi. Are you coming?"

  "Gimmie a minute," she muttered, head still in the cabinet. "'ll catch up to you."

  Lamu shook her head. It seemed she was on her own.

  Inconveniently, her map indicated the Obsidian Lounge was on the other side of the deck, the halls of which were still full of people returning to their rooms-- But again, nothing happened, and soon she was standing at her destination. One guard, a heavy-set Rhunbardic man with a red beard, already stood guard, but gestured for her to proceed as she approached.

  She glanced at the door for a moment. All the different lounges seemed to have quaint little nameplates of their according color on their doors with little graphical flourishes to allude to their theme (they'd passed the one for the Cream Lounge on the way to dinner; it had little poppies on it) but this one was extremely plain, displaying only the name in stark black text. The reason for this would become clear imminently.

  She stepped inside. The interior of the room, though well-kept, was extremely peculiar. The decor was minimalist to the extreme by the standards of the Ninsirsir so far - there were two sets of white sofas on either side and a cabinet with some basic refreshments alongside a small logic bridge in the center of the room between them, but other than that there was nothing. No entertainment, no art, not even a window.

  The coloration was also a bit unsettling. Lamu had expected it to be painted black by the name, but it really was just black: Walls, ceiling, even the floor. It gave the impression that the seating was floating in the void.

  Nevertheless, Lamu took a seat. Nhi arrived less than a minute later. She was dressed for the occasion, clad in a layered, semi-transparent gown with flairs of loose cloth that became vibrantly green and blue at their tips, like an immature flower, or maybe some kind of weird insect. Her hair was done up in a half-bun, too. She smiled as she entered.

  "Hi," she said. "Whew. Sorry about that."

  Lamu didn't reply, sitting silent as she took a seat.

  "How's it going, Lamu?" she asked casually, a small smile forming on her lips. "Having a nice night? I mean, other than whole paranoia-about-your-schoolmate thing. And political assassination thing now, I guess!" She chuckled softly, tapping her hands together in her lap.

  "I didn't come here to make conversation," Lamu replied stiffly.

  "Just trying to break the ice," Nhi said, going for a glass from the cabinet. "Thought we could both use a moment of levity, now that we're somewhere we can't be bugged."

  "Why did you pick this room?"

  She rose an eyebrow. "You don't like it?"

  "It's... sort of oppressive." Lamu frowned, glancing to the side. The door was painted black, too, and now that it was shut it was almost like it had disappeared altogether.

  "It is a bit, huh?" She poured some gin into a glass. "There's method to my madness, though. This is the most secure location on the entire ship-- Well, not if you're talking like, physical defenses, but in opsec terms it's a fortress. Soundproof, lead walls, total warding against arcana. Even the logic bridge goes through secure channels." She tapped it with the side of her foot. "All the lounges are supposed to have their own niches, and this one's meant to be the best place on board to have a private conversation. That's why I said 'can't be bugged' a second ago. Little pun."

  "I see."

  "Wow, ruthless." She sat back on the sofa. "Anyway, I'd offer you a drink, but I'm still dealing with the trauma of how you left yours to just sit there during our last meeting, so we should probably get down to business."

  "I want you to explain why all of the Exemplary Acolyte's Class is here."

  "Geez, not messing around, huh." Nhi paused for a moment, thinking. "You know, they say that patience is bitter, but fruit is sweet."

  "I've never heard that before."

  "Figures." Nhi shrugged, taking a sip. "Well, it's alright, because that's one of the reasons we need to talk anyway. I'll try to cut straight to the chase."

  Lamu nodded hesitantly.

  "Okay, so." She set the glass down, clapping her hands together. "Last time we talked, we went over a few things. Namely, your association from childhood with a certain organization that took you for granted and cast you aside, the existential threat imminently facing our world as the war escalates, and the potential solution discovered by the Order of the Universal Pana--"

  "I know all of this," Lamu interrupted.

  "Right," Nhi said with a nod. "And like, I didn't lie to you about any of that, obviously."

  There was an awkward pause. Lamu stared at Nhi coldly.

  "It would help the conversational momentum if you'd throw in a 'but?' here, maybe," Nhi offered.

  "If you've been deceiving me, then our deal is forfeit."

  "Woah, woah!" Nhi held up a hand. "Hey, c'mon--"

  "It's infuriating to see you treat this so flippantly," Lamu added. "I put my life at risk coming here. There's a credible threat to it that you're barely taking seriously at present."

  "That's not fair. I already assigned you one of my best agents. You're one of the safest people on this ship, considering the circumstances."

  "Our arrangement was simple," Lamu continued. "I come here and testify as to the Order's work, and you provide me with a comprehensive new identity. There was no room for any ambiguity, so if there are any changes in what you're asking me for, they can only be as a result of your ill-intentions."

  "I'm not saying there is!" Nhi spoke defensively. "I just-- Look. Like I was trying to say. I told you the truth. That's exactly what I want you to do."

  "Then why are we having this meeting?"

  "Because, well." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Alright. I might have, not lied, but led you to believe this was about something a little different than it was."

  "What do you mean."

  Nhi leaned forward slightly, her expression growing a little serious. "So, when we were talking, I spoke to you about a revolutionary piece of technology the Order developed in their final days, one that was being monopolized to the detriment of the world. And you probably assumed that I was talking about, well, the obvious. The one that's already been implemented widely. The one that's relevant to you and the - I'm just gonna stop dancing around the names here - the Brotherhood of the Scorned."

  Lamu instantly didn't like where this was going. "Their research into Induction, you mean."

  "Exactly." Nhi paused, choosing her words carefully. "And I implied - implied - the world could be saved if you brought that truth to light. And you probably drew the conclusion that I meant unmasking the conspiracy and their methods would solve the crisis of the day, bring the technology into the public eye and allow it to be used relatively more consensually and wholesomely, yada yada. Right?"

  Lamu said nothing, her lip pushed into a tight line.

  Nhi's face dropped further. "But the thing is, Lilith. Is that-- Well, you were listening to Issy's speech back in there, right?"

  "'Issy'?"

  "Tar-Isgansar, I mean."

  "...yes."

  "That thiiing he said, about how if the founders of the Grand Alliance were here they wouldn't really give much of a shit about the Empyrean War or anything else... well, it's kind of true." She hesitated. "I mean-- It is likely going to destroy the Remaining World next November if things continue as they have been. That much is true. But... that's not that much of a problem."

  "How can it not be a problem that the world is going to be destroyed," Lamu said. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life."

  "I said 'that much' of a problem. Obviously, like, it's an obstacle." She clasped her hands together. "But take it from me, the Grand Alliance is more durable than it looks. We've come close to doomsday a few times already, but we've got a lot of tricks up our sleeve in terms of escaping by the skin of our teeth. It would cause an absolute shitfest and kill a lot of people, make no mistake, but if me and my friends burned through our resources to pull every string we had, we could probably bring a stop to the war and get the Brotherhood and their affiliates mostly wiped out before they had a chance to try anything."

  "How, exactly?" Lamu asked skeptically.

  "Oh, y'know. Assassinations, covert ops, bribes and blackmail at a national scale. When the stakes are really all-or-nothing, one has a pretty big toolbox when it comes to this kind of crap." She sighed, letting out a little whistle. "But the problem is that, even if we did that, it wouldn't change much about the fundamental situation."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that, even if we bumped things back by a year or two by nipping this particular cause in the bud, well... The destruction of this world isn't really something we can prevent at this point."

  "I-- Why not?" She frowned. "You said that the reason for this threat was that people had developed too much of an understanding of how to interfere with the Tower of Asphodel, didn't you?"

  "Yep."

  "And that the conflict would escalate to the point that power was used. If there was no conflict, why would that happen?"

  Nhi considered the question for a few moments, picking up her glass again and looking down into it for a moment. "Lilith. You remember when I called my knowledge of all this a 'prophecy'?"

  "Yes."

  She reached for the logic bridge. "Let me show you my prophet."

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