[Week One]
— Charles Templier, Detective, Interpol —
“What is a ‘nazi’ anyway?”
“An idiot too full of himself to see how dirty his feet are, how dirty his hands are, how dirty his soul is from hatred and hypocrisy, cruelty as a creed.”
“Hmm, poetic,” Serana hummed. “It does give me an idea of the core of their ‘nazi’ beings, but I’m afraid it doesn’t clear up many details, Charles.”
Charles grunted, explaining, “It started as a political movement in a delicate period, the aftermath of great strife giving rise to desperation and the ambitious bad actors who would take advantage of it. That movement rose to prominence and sparked a terrible war, using its new ideology to justify imperialism and systematic oppression at rarely precedented levels. During that war, the nazis were responsible for great evils — all excused by their dogma, of course.
“Even after they were defeated and the war ended, their influence lingered, written in bitter hatred. Some fools in the years since have chosen to follow in their losing footsteps. The quarries we hunt are part of a group that does just that. They care nothing for those they consider less than themselves, which, in their hypocrisy, may be anyone they can justify that dehumanization upon.
“Die Gesellschaft… They are ruthless and exploitative, practice targeted inhumanity as a system of being, and have ambitions only for more and more power, no matter how they may publicly justify that greed according to their twisted creed. They seek to fulfill those ambitions through atrocities, criminal activities, terror, force, and the insidious spread of influence through all levels of society, preying upon the ‘lesser’ masses to prove so-called ‘superiority’. I have dedicated my whole career to obstructing them at every opportunity.”
“The realms are vast, indeed,” Serana said quietly, her voice full of wary awe. “I have missed much, I see. I must ask: in this good fight, dear hunter, have you made any significant progress?”
“Aye,” Charles nodded. “But then, so do they. It’s a back-and-forth that favors the Gesellschaft, for they haven’t been completely annihilated and there are many more problems in the world to distract from their specific brand of dogmatic evil.
“For each of their broken weapons captured or killed, the driving actors slip away, and the true shotcallers were never in danger in the first place. For each crime of theirs that is revealed and denounced, they make progress in political influence, through legal fronts, and by way of public opinion for an extreme few. For each operation focused against them, a dozen other issues gain ground. And for each lapse of attention, they surge back in from the woodwork like roaches.”
“Why is such an evil ideology so stubborn? How can something so flawed, so hypocritical and abhorrent and dehumanizing, persist?” Serana asked.
She sounded disbelieving, not of his words but of the dark truths the world could bear and cling to. She didn’t deny his claims, though. No, her mind was open enough to mourn the simplicity and innocence of the world with an empathy that Charles envied.
“Because ideas are inherently human, and that makes the worst of them that much more insidious, more so than some terrible, inhuman archenemy we might like to call a ‘great evil’,” Charles grunted. “Ideas have the liberty of being black or white, true or false, moral or immoral, and whatever variation in between — they can be anything, so malleable as to fit any purpose — but the people who create them, follow them, manipulate them, suffer them are always cast in shades of gray. They are, ultimately, nuanced, varied, and imperfect, and thus, in that imperfection, the worst of ideas persist.
“People will agree with parts and disagree with others, ignorant that even paying attention to the dogma gives it strength. So long as its twisted ideals linger on the minds of men, someone will use them, either out of true belief or simply because it best suits their selfish needs and ambitions.”
“They do not even believe what they preach?” Serana asked, bewildered.
“Some do; some don’t. It doesn’t matter, in the end. Whether they truly believe or just selfishly use the dogma, their actions are what damn them in my eyes,” Charles said.
“What… What of their crimes, then?” Serana sounded hesitant to even ask but determined to know the hunt she’d joined.
“Every one in the book and then some,” Charles snorted. “Murder, fraud, theft, racketeering, kidnapping, trafficking, terrorism, whatever hell they create in their ‘training’ camps; I couldn’t possibly name them all. There are no lines the Gesellschaft will not cross in its organizational pursuit of wealth, influence, and power.”
“… And the ‘Mirrored’?” Serana asked again.
“Mastering,” Charles answered. “His power lets him take control of a person’s mind or body and force them to follow him. If he mimes an action, the victim will carry it out for themselves. Alternatively, if he thinks something, the victim will find themselves thinking the same and believing it was their own thought.
“He’s been in my sights for some time now. I have him for the mass murder, both by proxy and by Mastered suicide, of 212 souls during a terror attack in Cologne, as well as criminal conspiracy, foreign espionage, and the international trafficking of both weapons and persons. And that’s just one case.”
“Truly,” Serana said quietly, vehemently. “Monsters in the shape of men.”
The dark topic of their conversation was contrasted against the revelry all around them. The party raged well into the night, with the moon above, streetlights, and magical fireworks lighting the way for celebration.
Through it all, Charles and Serana picked up the Mirrored’s trail once more. Serana could all but sniff out their prey, leading him through packed street crowds with his hand in hers. Contrary to what Charles expected, her skin was warm, and he could feel her pulse.
“~A living vampire… What a strange sight,” Van Helsing curiously mused in his soul.
Excited and eager to help, Serana weaved her way through the celebrating crowds with Charles close behind. Inceptium, the city, didn’t seem like it would be sleeping any time soon.
That suited his purposes just fine; it meant their hunt could continue. Their prey was using the celebrations just as readily, looking to source magical advantages wherever they could. When they caught sight of the Gesellschaft’s weapons again, the trio was buying out a still-open merchant on the side of the street for all of his magical wares.
Charles noted the haul of potions. He didn’t know what any one of them was, but neither did the Mirrored, it seemed, betting on quantity to carry his potential profit.
Serana giggled, and Charles asked, “Do you recognize them?”
“Not by sight, but by smell, yes,” She nodded. “Some, at least. Enough to guess at the rest.”
“Enlighten me,” Charles said curtly, his gaze intent on his quarry and committing their every action to memory. “… Please.”
He added the last as a distracted afterthought that made Serana tut with amusement, “The ones I know are all recreational libations. Alternatives to alcohol, as you might expect from a merchant doing business at this time of night and in this environment.”
“Do you have any experience with them?” Charles asked.
He glanced her way just in time to catch her blush, “Ah, no, I am not the type; no potion-drinker, Charles, I assure you. I needed to learn them by scent to avoid drinking from those who… indulge. Especially one particularly perverse sample there that mimics the euphoric effects of a vampiric kiss; its users tend to seek me out overwhelmingly, and I… don’t like how eager they are.”
“That said,” Serana continued. “If they are after potions of power, they’ll find themselves sorely disappointed with their haul here.”
Charles shook his head, “I doubt it. The Gesellschaft is far from afraid to dip its whole arm into the drug market. If they can secure sufficient supply, they may have just found their new bestselling product.”
“Not the Vampire’s Bliss one, I hope,” Serana said, shuddering in disgust.
She shook off her shudders a moment later, “Is that evidence we can add to the pattern?”
Charles nodded, “With the right chain of logic, yes. But we’ll still need more. Much more. And after the pattern is established… well, I’m loath to let them get away with all of this profit without a fight…”
IIIII
Throughout the rest of the night, the pattern of evidence grew, painting the Mirrored with agency all his own.
Charles and Serana stalked their prey through the still-riotous streets. They pushed through the crowds and the dances, participating just enough not to arouse suspicion. That was how Charles found himself dancing with a vampire as they both kept their eyes on the Mirrored and his actions a bit down the street from them.
Serana was blushing, even as focused as she was, “I-I’ve never done this before…”
“Stake-outs take some getting used to; a skill developed through practice,” Charles agreed. “They aren’t for the impatient, but necessary if we want to keep eyes on le salauds…”
“That…” Charles felt her eyes turn to him, simply staring. “Really, Charles?”
“They’re moving again,” He cut off whatever she was asking. “Come, follow me.”
With an odd huff, Serana did so. Charles quickly disengaged from the dance, waving off a complaint from one of the party-goers. He and Serana followed the Mirrored and his weapons down an alleyway.
The Mirrored had been clever about finding magical opportunities here that could potentially be exploited by himself and his organization. The offerings available on the street tonight were all more recreationally oriented than purely martial, but to Earth Bet, completely lacking in magic, those recreational magicks were still a treasure trove.
Charles had noted the Mirrored picking up potions earlier — a whole new family of drugs the Gesellschaft could prey upon the vulnerable with — and they were joined by fanciful magic scrolls soon after. There, Serana was once again essential for identifying the loot the Mirrored sought to take back with him.
Firework scrolls; Charles could immediately think of several worrying uses for the showy magicks. Had the Chinese not, upon inventing gunpowder and fireworks, used them for war just as much as celebration?
They would not be all that much more powerful than Blaster powers, most likely, but it was the potential in magic that worried Charles most.
The Gesellschaft tended to use each of their weapons to the fullest extent possible. Charles couldn’t imagine they would do any differently with magic instead of capes and powers.
Charles didn’t curse the Dragon for giving rise to these new opportunities and their inevitable exploitation. Outside interests would naturally be brought into the Dungeon by enterprising individuals and organizations. The Dragon was not at fault for that. He had his ambitions, whatever they truly were, and the Gesellschaft were only piggybacking on his work for their own selfish ambitions. Thus, in Charles’ mind, it fell to other outside interests — competition — to ensure bad actors met opposition before the Dungeon’s advantages could be used to secure terrible dominance outside of it.
He would stop at nothing to make sure the nazis failed in their goals here.
They would acquire nothing worth the effort. They would exit worse than they came in, if he could help it. By the end of the Dungeon’s opening week, he would have a pattern of evidence he could present for his theory, and he would have halted the Gesellshaft’s initial advances into the Dungeon, this new arena of power to be gained.
Turning into the alley, Charles saw the Mirrored looking his way. He thought quickly and grabbed Serana as she followed him. She squeaked — adorably, something in his mind said — when he pressed her up against the stone wall and ducked his head close to hers.
Eyes like burning embers stared up at him in shock, wide and mesmerizing. Charles molded his body to hers. She responded in kind, almost instinctively.
“C-Charles~… S-So soon…!”
Charles kept the corner of his eye on the Mirrored at the other end of the alley. He paid the ‘couple’ no mind, having found something more worth his time, it seemed.
An adventuring local was passed out in the alley, slumped half against the wall. The Mirrored kept him insensate. The Sparked stood guard at the alley’s opposite mouth. The Shadowed looted the poor drunk adventurer for all of his possessions.
Charles almost jumped when he felt lips on his neck. Hunting instincts screamed at him; trust quieted them. Serana had been nothing but helpful and gentle so far. He wouldn’t jump to conclusions, even as those soft lips nipped at his collarbone…
“~Oh, this is a horrible idea. I shall watch and see how it turns out for you,” Van Helsing said in his soul, not interfering, for better or for worse.
“Serana?” Charles whispered.
“Hnnn~… Why do you taste so-…”
“Serana.”
She jolted back to awareness, looking up at him with those same burning eyes, now even wider with shock, “C-Charles-! I wouldn’t-! I would never-! Not without your permission!”
“I need you to tell what all the Mirrored just gained,” He told her.
Seeming bewildered by the request, Serana glanced past him at their prey and remembered their mission for the night, “Ah… I-I can’t say for certain. Any adventurer worth their salt, especially in Inceptium, will have commissioned noteworthy arms that best fit their adventuring style. I’d need a proper look at the enchantment work for that sword and those plates.”
“What of the rest?” Charles pressed, ducking his head into her neck in turn to keep up the illusion of a couple… coupling.
His acting seemed to distract Serana for some reason. She let out the strangest moan, “Haa-hnn~… I-I smell potions, Charles, of the more martial variety that might worry you… A Stoneskin, a Swiftfoot, a Stamina, and a Weapon Coating of Ice…! There’s also the adventurer’s more mundane gear: an Ever-True Dowsing Rod, a Bag of Holding, a-”
“-! Charles!” She whispered urgently. “They’re taking the adventurer, too! Bone and Blood, that is eerie! You told me about the ‘Mastering’, but that man is much too drunk to stand on his own two feet!”
“Putain-!” Charles swore into Serana’s neck. She jumped at the harsh word upon her skin.
“I should’ve expected that,” He chided himself. “Kidnapping is right in the Gesellschaft’s playbook. They’ll drain that innocent man for everything he’s worth, even if they have to do it in the field. We can’t afford patience now. Are you ready?”
“R-Ready?” Serana asked.
“For this hunt to turn violent.”
“I… I don’t think I am, but I’ll follow your lead, Charles. I said I’d aid you. I will.”
“Good girl.”
“E-Eep~!”
Serana let out a strange, uncomposed squeak as Charles disengaged from their coupling act. He put it out of his mind with some effort, ignoring the sudden craving to hear her make it again.
The Mirrored and his weapons were still assessing their gains, but it didn’t seem they would try to move their victim. They would interrogate him here. Charles ran his mind through the options at his disposal.
He was no pure fighter, certainly not someone who’d been able to match the majority of capes blow for blow. He wasn’t even a trooper. He was a steady hand with his sidearm, but using it here would draw more attention than he could likely afford.
Ultimately, he was still a foreign agent operating in a foreign city without sanction; he could very easily find himself in a cell alongside his quarries by the end of the night, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck waiting beside nazis.
That left the Adventurer’s Corps-issued rapier and his partnered totem.
Thankfully, Charles had a bit of experience with such a blade, fencing in his youth. He would be rusty, but with the element of surprise, Serana’s backup, and Van Helsing’s imparted hunting skills and wisdom…
“Aim for the Sparked first. He is the weapon most suited for a straight-up fight,” Charles advised.
“~Strike from the shadows, while they are distracted. When the time for action comes calling, a hunter must be just as monstrous as the monsters they hunt,” Van Helsing said.
Serana held herself back as Charles began his approach. Van Helsing’s experience flowed through his very veins, and he found himself slipping through the shadows of the alley with preternatural grace.
His prey didn’t notice him — couldn’t. There were monsters in the shape of men, and he was on the hunt. His rapier emerged from its scabbard with a nigh-silent rasp.
The Mirrored roused the captured adventurer, still bound to his Mastering will. He made the man mirror him, the Mirrored’s thoughts becoming the adventurer’s truth.
“I will answer every question asked of me truthfully-…” The Mirrored began; the man repeated after him word for word.
Then, Charles, with a lunge from the cloaking, was behind the Mirrored. His rapier pierced the Gesellschaft’s weapon’s leg, laming him in an instant. The shock made the Mirrored shout. It was lost in the cacophony of celebrations from the street beyond the alley.
It was no great duel; Charles much preferred the ambushing surprise of it all when his foes were as dangerous and ruthless as they were.
The Mirrored tried to turn his shout of pain into orders for the weapons under his command. Serana struck in force before he could. The Sparked was caught in some invisible grip. Stiff as the dead, he even began to levitate off the ground. Blood-red essence flowed from him as mist, sucked right into Serana’s open, fanged maw.
At the same time, she didn’t leave the Shadowed to get away. The Sparked was drained, and the Shadowed was frozen where she stood, a spell of icy entropy taking her.
After a point, the Sparked burst into a shower of gold that startled Serana, cast out of the Dungeon. The Shadowed was not so lucky as to escape.
The Mirrored, seeing his weapons dealt with so easily by magical and vampiric means, turned a glare of pure hatred at the source of his now-crippled leg. He recognized Charles.
“Templier…”
“Der Gespiegelt,” Charles sneered back. “We are going to have a good, long talk here.”
The Mirrored laughed, “You truly expect me to give you anything? I shall be extracted from the Dungeon unharmed whether you hold or kill me. And the Dragon will have your head if you torture me; that is one of his rules, is it not? You can do nothing here, Templier.”
Charles glared at him and swore within his mind.
“~You have a monster as your ally, Charles; use her,” Van Helsing reminded him.
At that, Charles grinned, “Serana? I need your assistance. The Mirrored is being… obstinate. Help me make him talk.”
“Fine… But you will finish what you started after we are done here, Charles. I-I will accept nothing less to end this night!”
“I agree. What am I agreeing to?” Van Helsing laughed in his soul, and Serana just huffed at him.
She all but appeared at his side, burning eyes piercing the Mirrored’s twisted soul. The man jolted painfully, still impaled upon Charles’ rapier. Then, as Serana continued to stare at him, his mouth went slack and he was left open to suggestion.
“Now… Cooperate, monster. From what I’ve been told, you have much to answer for. This will be where you start. Answer the good hunter’s questions fully, truthfully, and in good faith.”
The hypnotizing moment passed quickly, and the Mirrored actually regained his senses, to Charles’ surprise. But now, he was scared and shaken.
He tried to put on a confident front, laughing in Charles’ face, “This-! No court will stand for this, Templier, a Mastered confession! All you’ve done is ensure I’ll always walk free!”
“True,” Charles nodded. “To a point. There are certainly laws against Mastered confessions. But those apply to parahumans and their powers, not vampires and magical means.”
He grinned at the Mirrored, “You’ll have to get your pet politicians to close that loophole; I’m sure you will, eventually. But by then, it’ll be much too late to save you in particular. I’m going to pick you apart and use all the information you give me to pick apart die Gesellschaft, too.
“Tell me, Der Gespiegelt… how fucked are you right now?”
With a whimper, the Mirrored couldn’t help but answer fully, truthfully, and in good faith, “… So very fucked.”
IIIII
— Legend —
“Ha…” Legend sighed, mostly to himself. “Where do we even go from here?”
“I don’t know,” Alexandria answered frankly; she sounded pained to admit it.
“Neither do I,” Contessa smiled to herself, more giddy and excited than she had any right to be. “It’s wonderful.”
The night wound down, first to be spent in the officially open Dungeon. The Fair fell mostly quiet as a result. There were accommodations enough to house all of the new adventurers, and many had gone to bed.
Legend couldn’t bring himself to sleep now. He imagined his colleagues felt similarly.
Eidolon was still catatonic. Legend had commandeered a bedroll for him and all but tucked him in, but it was clear he wasn’t actually sleeping. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the moon and stars above with very few signs of life within.
Alexandria and Contessa joined him in keeping watch over Eidolon. An attack in the night, while Eidolon was so vulnerable, was unfortunately not out of the question. For all the unconscious damage he’d done to the world, Legend didn’t want his friend to be killed in some case of, ironically, vigilante justice.
“Wonderful,” Alexandria snorted. “Everything’s ruined — it’s been ruined for years, and we didn’t even know it. You call that ‘wonderful’?”
Contessa nodded, “I call no more Endbringer attacks, the very real potential for open communication with Eden, Change for the Cycle, hope for humanity, Ancalagon’s turning of the Age and the infinite possibilities it brings, wonderful, yes.”
“All it cost was revealing a terrible truth about Earth Bet’s strongest cape, our friend,” Legend mused.
“I would pay that price a thousand times over for the potential of Infinity alone,” Contessa said. “Revealed or not, the truth would still have been there. This needed to happen. Eidolon — David… — was too costly to keep on the board.”
“He didn’t know,” Legend half-heartedly defended his friend. “None of it was on purpose. That… No, that doesn’t excuse anything. The Endbringers… God. Have we done more harm to the world than good?”
“No,” Alexandria immediately answered.
“It’s about even, actually,” Contessa corrected her. “At this point, it’s become pretty plain for me to see that we were just treading water.”
“And now, from here, we can swim?” Legend asked, hopeful.
Contessa grinned, the expression genuine on her face in a way Legend had rarely seen from humanity’s strongest asset, “We can fly, if we try. We can surf, or dive, or fucking play in the shallows, even. Infinity, Legend. Anything is possible now. We just have to adapt and continue pressing forward as the Age Turns.”
There was a moment of silence between the three (four) of them as Contessa’s words sunk in. Legend was glad there was new hope for humanity, even if they were leaving the world as they’d known it behind. Sometimes, he supposed, it was best to try something new.
“… Are we going to continue operations as usual?” Alexandria asked.
“I’m not,” Contessa shrugged. “At least, not entirely. I plan to spend as much time around Infinity as I am able to. The main operations away from Ancalagon that I can see myself continuing are the vials and Case 53s, and there, only if… Simmy and Eden give me their approval and support. Eden seems to like those experiments of ours, strangely enough, and even more strangely, I would like to get on her good side.”
Legend blinked, “The… what?”
“Oh, yes,” Contessa waved. “We’re responsible for the Case 53s. They were deemed unintended but acceptable consequences of the vials; we were desperate for any scrap of hope.”
“The… what?!” Legend found his voice rising.
“Legend,” Alexandria told him, frowning. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary-?!”
“Necessary. Anything to save humanity from extinction.”
“Except that’s not the case anymore,” Contessa cut in through Alexandria’s stern, almost judging tone. “Humanity might not even be in danger of extinction if the Change to the Cycle comes to fruition, to say nothing of how Ancalagon is Turning the Age. So really, what we did wasn’t necessary. It was fucked up, and ultimately, pointless. We couldn’t have known it at the time, of course, but Legend, you’re completely right to be outraged.”
She shook her head, “We ruined as many lives as any one of the Endbringers did in our efforts to save humanity. Simmy ran the numbers. Did you know I have a body count to rival hers?”
The frank acceptance in Contessa’s voice stunned Legend. It took the wind completely out of his sails. It was the opposite of unfeeling, so dense with emotions that Legend couldn’t decipher them all. But ultimately, acceptance reigned.
“Then,” Legend asked, straightening his back and staring at her expectantly. “What will you do to make up for all of those ruined lives? We may have had good intentions, but it sounds to me that we all fucked up just as much as Eidolon did. So where do we go from here?”
Contessa smiled, tired but still willing to go on, “We make sure none of it was in vain, and we do it on infinite new Paths, not one dead-end excuse for one. I don’t know what the future will hold, but I know the Age is Turning; if we Turn with it, we can do everything we’ve been trying to do for decades and more.”
“You’ve always been the best of us, Legend,” She continued. “I think the best way to start that Turning is for us to start actually listening to you instead of sidelining you from issues we know you won’t agree with.
“Hell, I’ll say it outright: Legend… you should lead Cauldron from here. You’re the only one I’d actually trust with it, not the fate of the world, the good of the world.”
Alexandria made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat at that, “Hn. I don’t disagree that Legend would do a good job looking out for the world, but is that truly what the world needs now?”
“As opposed to what? Continuing as we were? As I didn’t even know we were?” Legend shot back, having to put effort into maintaining a civil tone.
“I just think that abandoning our efforts at this point would do as much harm as we’ve already supposedly done,” Alexandria replied in a Devil’s Advocate tone that nearly made him snap.
“Alexandria…” He said slowly. “I’m going to be honest, because you’re my friend: that sounded wholly selfish. It sounded, to me, like you don’t want to give up the power we’ve been forced to grasp if we hoped to save the world. There are other options now. Why would we continue as we were, haphazard and desperate and… evil?”
“Because the ‘other options’ would hand the world wholly over to the Dragon!” Alexandria did snap back.
“Maybe, maybe not, but go off, I guess,” Contessa shrugged.
“Don’t you start,” Alexandria rounded on her, glaring through her helmet. “I am certain you’ve been compromised, Contessa. The one thing I do agree on is that you can’t be left to lead Cauldron anymore. I don’t know if I can trust you.”
“It’s a whole new Age, my dear,” Contessa said patronizingly. “I don’t think you’re quite internalizing how ‘the Dragon’, how Ancalagon has already won.”
She nodded curtly, “You’re right. I refuse to believe it’s true. I refuse to believe there’s nothing humanity can do to stand on its own two feet, free of Entities and… Dragons.”
“Nothing I’ve seen from Ancalagon invites me to believe he intends to rule over humanity like some kind of Draconic dictator,” Legend argued. “He’s changing everything, yes, but all he’s done says to me that he wants us to grow, Alexandria. I think he does want us to stand on our own two feet.”
“I doubt it,” Alexandria frowned. “What kind of being with power like his gives up control like that? I don’t know what he’s planning, but I’m certain he’s planning something.”
Contessa chuckled, “You’re right there, at least. Just not in the way you’re projecting. Legend has the right of it. You ask why he would give up control; I ask why he would want to rule in the first place? What can this Age offer him that he doesn’t already have?”
“Thralls,” Alexandria hissed.
“That… seems like an extreme leap of logic,” Legend said.
“But you can’t deny the possibility…!” She exclaimed. “We don’t know the Dragon’s mind! We don’t know how twisted his thoughts and how atrocious his ambitions could be! He’s not human! Can we afford to give him the chance to expand his dark dominance upon everything we know, everything we have, everything we are?”
“And so, to combat his supposedly ‘dark dominance’, we… what?” Legend asked. “Continue as we were, on the barest bones of a plan that wasn’t ever designed to include him in its calculations? We turn our fight against the Entities onto the Dragon? We keep on ruining lives for the sake of some greater, self-decided good until we win some victory that only you think needs to be won?”
Alexandria drew herself up with determination, “If needs must, we will.”
Legend shook his head, “No, Alexandria, we won’t. Not under my watch or leadership. I’ve never been happy with all the things Cauldron does to ensure the survival of humanity — so many ‘lesser evils’ — and knowing we’ve done worse without me knowing of it only firms my decision here.
“If I’m going to be leading us from here, as Contessa wants, I think it’s a good thing the Age is Turning. All we’ve done… it’s best left behind.”
“Then-! Then, who will oppose the Dragon and his insidious schemes, whatever they are?!”
“Yes, ‘whatever they are’,” Contessa drawled.
“He’s not our enemy, Alexandria,” Legend told his friend, keeping his voice gentle and soothing. “We’ve seen him immediately make himself known to the world upon his arrival, cooperate in good faith with the proper authorities, even if he doesn’t bow to them, and erect this very Dungeon with the well-stated goal of Growth. In all of that, I’ve seen no evidence that he’s an enemy of humanity.
“He’s not parasiting himself off traumatized people like the agents — Shards-…”
“We don’t know that,” Alexandria firmly denied.
Legend continued as if she hadn’t spoken her projection, “He’s not rampaging through the world like the Endbringers that we had a major part in bringing into the world.”
“Not yet…”
“He’s not inciting Conflict all across the globe in the hope of selfishly benefiting from it.”
“Are you sure? Won’t the Dungeon do just that when people come from far and wide to participate in it?”
Again, Legend ignored her denials, “He’s not our enemy, Alexandria.”
“…” Finally, Alexandria held her tongue. Legend could see that she didn’t agree, but now, at least, she was keeping it to herself.
He sighed, “Even if he was, I think we’d be more than a little bit outclassed.”
“That never stopped us with the Entities,” Alexandria shot back.
“And look where it got us! We were playing with powers we didn’t know to try and defeat a Cycle that must’ve destroyed countless worlds before us! We tried to disrupt it from within without even knowing what we were within!” Legend threw his hands up in frustration.
“We mangled Eden’s corpse to try and spark new Triggers, and we made people suffer for it! We kept the world going deeper and deeper into the very Conflict the Cycle is after, thinking we could turn it to our advantage, somehow! We played the hands we were dealt, and we did just as much to ruin the world as the Entities have as a result!”
“No, Alexandria,” He lowered his voice, continuing quietly. “It never stopped us. And that’s the problem. For all our noble ends, we used evil means to try to get the merest glimpse of them.”
“… Fine,” Alexandria bit out; Legend knew she was only humoring him, the stubborn bit-… his stubborn friend. “What now, then? If you’re leading us, where do we go from here?”
Legend sighed, weary but not beaten, “We begin to pick up pieces thirty-odd years in the making. We do what we can to right old wrongs. We continue forward to regain the world’s trust that it didn’t even know was misplaced. And, personally, I think we look to Ancalagon for help with all of that.”
“Help…?!” Alexandria hissed.
“Cooperation, at least,” Legend asserted. “Magic, Alexandria. Magic and the Growth of the Dungeon and a potential ally for humanity that can rival the Entities, that can make one of them change their mind about the Cycle…! All without any of the compromises we’ve been forced to make so far.”
“… I don’t like this,” Alexandria said after a brief, considering, disgruntled pause.
“Yes, you’ve made that blatantly clear,” Contessa drawled.
“But…” Alexandria swallowed a bitter retort. “I’ll follow your lead, Legend. Keith. You, I trust. Contessa, I’m no longer sure. Eidolon, David… I don’t know if he’ll ever be the same.”
Glancing at the still catatonic Eidolon who they were standing guard — almost vigil — over, Legend winced, “… I very much doubt it. He’s taking his guilt… hard, to say the least, even if it was unconscious.”
Contessa shrugged, “Ancalagon has offered him the chance to redeem himself, if he’s willing to take it. Give him time to come to terms with himself, then turn him loose in the Dungeon. Let him experience life without his power or Shard clouding his mind. He may just come out better for the ordeal.”
“One hopes,” Alexandria sighed. “As I was saying, even as we are now… I won’t abandon Cauldron. We’ve done too much together to walk away. If Legend’s leadership is what we need to brave this new… Age… I’ll commit myself fully.”
“Ugh, fiiii~innne…” Contessa playfully groaned. “I won’t abandon you for the Dragon. I’ll warn you now, though: I’ll probably have my feet in both worlds.”
Alexandria frowned, but Legend nodded and laughed, “That’s probably for the best. We’ll need a liaison going forward, especially with Ancalagon driving so many new developments. If you see that as the best Path for you, Contessa, I encourage you to take it. At the same time, I think we are going to be taking a break from your Paths.”
“Good,” Contessa nodded. “If you’re going to lead, don’t do it half-heartedly. Don’t rely on me. I’ve already abandoned the slim chance of Victory we were working for. My new Paths are many and varied — some ending in Victory; some in Defeat — and I’ll be honest… I like it better this way.”
She smiled, the expression sitting genuinely on her face in a way Legend had only begun to see from her recently. Before Ancalagon’s arrival, he could barely have imagined Contessa smiling…
Even Alexandria seemed to recognize that Contessa was healthier and happier now, changing the subject as she saw the smile, “… Legend, what are we going to do about the aftermath of the Endbringer reveal?”
“That… is a very good question,” Legend sighed. “One of the Triumvirate, the strongest cape in the world, was Mastering the Endbringers. The world knows that now. It’ll ruin trust in capes, and I can’t say I’ll blame people for thinking that way.”
“So what we’ll do?” He shrugged. “Our best.”
“Our best?” Alexandria pursed her lips in unspoken judgment.
Legend just nodded, though, “Our best. No scheme, no PR gambit; just real and pure heroism, listening to the reasonable criticism, ignoring the vitriol, gathering similarly-minded heroes to do the same, and putting in the work to earn back the trust we lost. From here, it’ll be our actions that matter most.
“Anything else will ring hollow. So we do our best, Alexandria; we keep on keeping on until the world is willing to look to us for leadership again.”
“It’s that simple, is it?”
“No, it won’t be simple, or quick. It’ll take real effort and humility and a whole lot of time. Everything has changed. The Age is Turning… But I don’t intend to let us be left behind in the last.
“Will you join me?”
He extended a hand to Alexandria, one of his oldest friends. They’d gone through so much together, wronging each other and wronging the world, but through it all, they were colleagues, comrades, friends. For all her flaws, Legend wouldn’t give up on her easily.
Alexandria stared at his offered hand for a long moment, her perfectly controlled expression betraying none of her inner thoughts. Legend waited. He trusted, just as he hoped she would do the same for him.
Eventually, she reached back, “… Very little is the same as when we started, is it? From four to two… We’ve lost so much, even ourselves.”
Their hands clasped, and Legend smiled at his friend, “We have our memories, our convictions, and we still have each other. We can do our best. Together.”
“Together.”
Together, almost as one, they turned to the last of their number, staring at Contessa with a question hanging in the air.
Contessa huffed, but her smile was still genuine, “Together, then.
“To Victory or to Defeat.”
IIIII
— Ancalagon —
In the darkest hour before the dawn, I roamed the fairgrounds within the Dungeon.
I was taking in everything that I’d built here, and everything that had already developed beyond it in just the first day of the Dungeon’s official opening.
Now, as I walked alone, the Dungeon rested in anticipation of tomorrow and the tomorrow after that and so on, forevermore.
Already, the adventure I sought to bring this Age was becoming self-sustaining.
My new adventurers were acting with agency all their own, making their own quests and experiencing the world I’d recreated for them here. It wasn’t isolated, either; I’d brought a slice of Earth Bet into the Dungeon just as much as I’d brought the Dungeon into Earth Bet. It was a new song sung in harmony — worlds within and without influencing each other to become greater than the sum of their parts.
I couldn’t wait to see how the Age would Turn from here, from Dungeon to Cycle to every individual adventure that would play out in between.
The night was quiet, my Moon steadily falling to the horizon so the sun could rise upon a new day. All but the most vigilant, excited, grieving, or outraged of my new adventurers had found their way to bed.
In isolated pockets, though, the Dungeon continued to thrive — be it in the drinking and downtrodden souls still reeling from the day’s developments, or those who didn’t need sleep and looked for something, anything to do to blend yesterday into tomorrow, or couples, new and old, frolicking between the sheets, or adventurers returning victorious and defeated from their quests of the day, or schemers in the night preparing for the sunrise.
Just as I’d hoped, adventure never fully slept.
I experienced it all for myself as another pair of wandering eyes, now, no presiding Dragon in sight. My human form, while known, was enough to allow me to pass untroubled by those who were still awake.
The magical lanterns around the fairgrounds were dimmed, but still lit. The awnings overhead, giving shade during the day, rippled in the night’s wind as if I was walking beneath the waves. At spots where they were absent, the stars of a whole other world peeked down upon the earth.
It was in those wanders that I came across an unexpected but very welcome scene. There was a steady campfire hiding within the fairgrounds — a hearth, a sanctuary, an invitation to take a few moments away from the darkness.
A familiar face sat tending to it.
Hestia smiled when I approached. The flames crackled with her mood, reassuring and welcoming. They practically waved me over to sit beside her.
I did, and for long, peaceful minutes, the silence was comfortable. We didn’t need to speak; Hearth and Home needed no words to declare itself.
“This is a wonderful thing you’ve built, Ancalagon,” Hestia eventually said. “Adventure offered to an Age without. But I felt it needed more: moments of peace and safety between the many more moments of trial and tribulation.”
“You need not explain anything to me, my dear. Wherever I go, your Hearth is welcome,” I assured.
“Then, I’ll take you up on that,” Hestia nodded.
“You can be the heart of the Dungeon,” I encouraged. “I look forward to many stories of sanctuary when everything seems hopeless for my adventurers, a wandering Hearth when their adventures take them so far from Home.”
Hestia giggled, “You know me too well. They’ll come and go, of course, but I’ll always be here when they need a spark of warmth.”
“Familiarity in the darkest of Dungeon instances,” I agreed.
“My motivations are somewhat selfish, I’ll admit,” She said.
“Impossible,” I chuckled, fondly shaking my head.
“It’s true!” Hestia insisted, turning to half-heartedly glare at me; she was precious. “What is Hearth without stories of adventure told around it?! What is Home without reason to leave and return to it?! I fear I am using you and your Dungeon to grow my own Domains, Ancalagon!”
“Then use me,” I told her. “Use me until I come Home to you and lay my head on your lap to use you in turn.”
Hestia turned back to her fire, blushing as brilliantly as the flames, “Oh, Ancalagon… That was terribly romantic, terribly familiar, just terrible… You spoil me.”
“Should we not spoil our loved ones in the safety of our own Homes?” I teased.
Hestia leaned her head on my shoulder, sighing, “… I missed you.”
I leaned my head on hers in turn, “… I’m Home, Hestia. With you, always.”
“I miss your Hoard, too, Mister,” She nudged me. “You’d better bring them around my Hearth here soon. I wish to see how they’ve grown.”
I nodded, “Of course. Such Growth is best internalized when one returns Home safely. That’s another service you can offer my Dungeon. I’ll give you access to the system.”
“Of course, you will,” Hestia giggled, rolling her eyes with fond exasperation. “Hesitation never entered your mind, did it?”
“Not with you, no,” I confirmed. “But good luck getting me to share such Authority with anyone who doesn’t hold my Hearth in their hands.”
“Good pun. Zeus would hate it.”
We sat like that for a while, comfortable around Hestia’s Hearth and at Home in each other’s arms. The flames dancing before our eyes, showing every Hearth in existence, were all the entertainment we needed. We could’ve stayed like that forever, but despite her domains and her own Nature, souls sitting eternally safe and stagnant at Home were actually anathema to Hestia. She would still accept them at her Hearth, of course, but she always wished more for them as she did.
“… Are you thinking of taking on a new domain?” She asked. “All of this… Adventure?”
“The Moon, the Turning Age, and Adventure,” I nodded. “I think I am. It’ll take some doing, still, but I like the idea. And not least of all because of how it would complement you.”
“Aye, it would,” Hestia sighed dreamily. “Hearth and Adventure…”
“Opposites that fit so perfectly together, no?” I squeezed her to my side.
She nuzzled closer, “We found a way. Now, until the sun rises and you must venture out once more, tell me about all the adventures your Dungeon has already seen.”
“As my Hearth commands,” I chuckled, picking a tale from the day at random, my knowledge of the adventures within the Dungeon absolute.
“There’s a young ‘princess’ out there right now, in the wilderness, hunting monsters alongside like-minded youths, fed-up with the world they know and filled with wonder for this new one they’re discovering. They are brave, to hunt at night in these woods, but then, the eagerness of youth is an adventure all by itself-…”
IIIII
[AN: I have one more chapter of this story in me, the arc’s interlude, but that’s it for now. It’ll be a Hestia chapter, which should be fun. Through her eyes, we’ll see the developing adventures of Week One when they cross paths with her ‘bonfire/site of grace’ Hearth in varied and unexpected (but greatly appreciated) places. I think that, and the end of this chapter, is the perfect place to leave this story until I return to finish it.
After the next chapter, I’m probably going to take a week off from posting, but I’ll still be working, don’t worry. I need to catch up on the Dead End (reread some 630k words…) and I’ll be doing some ‘Sean Story’ writing exercises while I’m at it that will most likely act as first drafts for future Dead End chapters.
It’ll be productive, even if you all won’t see that immediately. So just bear with me, yeah? The Dead End will be coming back quicker than you know it! :]