Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-

The rhythmic sound of the lounge’s clock echoed in Michael’s ears as they leaned against their chair. It was a strangely shaped clock, resembling a kraken devouring a broken ship with the clock set between the point the iron tentacles met the brass “wood”. The prow of the ship formed the clock’s pendulum, swaying as more “tentacles” pulled it to and fro.

Brascul’s quill made a faint scratching noise as she wrote at her desk nearby. They were in an office now, one of many apparently–Brascul complained that she couldn’t go to her “real” office with everything going on, whatever that meant–and the archduchess of Orindaco had work to do that didn’t involve Michael’s stupid mistakes.

The sound of Anaya taking a sip of her tea seemed unpleasantly loud in the full silence. She hadn’t spoken to Michael since one of Brascul’s attendants brought her into the room. That was a while ago. Brascul had gone to talk with her and come back all while Michael just sat in their seat, feeling lost.

There was a faint shuffle of fabric against cloth as Noriko shifted in her own seat nearby. They weren’t all seated on the same couch this time, instead now being spread out in their own seats around the room’s center table, in front of Brascul’s desk.

Seona wasn’t present, apparently having been put up in a room of her own. Brascul promised she would be well taken care of, but Michael had no reason to doubt her to begin with. The archduchess liked Seona. It was understandable, Seona was likable.

Michael was the only one still in manacles. Their chains clinked together as they moved their wrists, trying to…do something. Something other than sitting in silence, ignoring their failures.

“…” Noriko glanced between Anaya and Michael, then opened her mouth–

“Alright, we should talk,” Brascul said, ignoring how Noriko deflated, “As you know, the Cardinal confirmed Molly Seaside is not a leviathan.”

Michael clenched their fists, but nodded.

“So that leaves me with the question of what to do with you three. You trespassed in my palace, broke my wall, and nearly killed my assistant. I don’t like the Cardinal there either. So throwing all of you out of my city sounds like a decent option to me.”

“Uh, so, just to point it out, but even if Mishi was wrong about Seaside being the leviathan, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a plot,” Noriko pointed out, “You did say something about catching three different plots before, right?”

“Yes, and all three were resolved. What point are you trying to make?”

“This gal’s just saying, the three of us do have a pretty successful record of handling demon and leviathan plots.”

“Hm. Didn’t the population of your home country get turned into animals?”

“Temporarily! Thanks to us!”

“I heard it was two paladins invoking the god Innominatum.”

“Okay well sure, they helped–“

“They were also the ones to defeat the rebellion’s leaders.”

“…Okay, well, we helped.”

“Hm. So you’re proposing you help me handle any other plots that may be going on in my city. And you expect me to trust you as investigators.”

“Yeah basically.”

“It would be better to have us where you can see us instead of causing trouble you don’t know about.” Michael stiffened at Anaya’s voice, her even tone somehow jolting through their occupied mind. “The wedding is too large of an event for any faction that wants to damage Luceneva to ignore. There are going to be more problems and at the end of the day, we can help more if we’re coordinating with you. Think of it like having extra hands on deck.”

“Extra hands can be more trouble than their worth if they don’t know what they’re doing,” Brascul commented.

“And reckless stowaways sneaking aboard would be worse, wouldn’t it?”

“I could throw you out of my city, you know.”

“Could you keep us out? All while dealing with every problem the royals are foisting on your plate?”

“I could.” Brascul’s cold gaze lightened after a moment. “But you’re right. You would be more useful on my side. I just don’t trust the Cardinal.”

“That’s reasonable, given your history.” Anaya was correct, but her remark still stung. “I think you already have a plan for that though.”

“Heh. You’re quite the thoughtful woman, Greenfall. The way I see it, I can get one of you into the wedding preparations. You can interact with the nobles, maybe even the royals, see how things play out. Then I could put another one of you in the servants. Maybe the guards. Somewhere you’re a step down, but still getting involved. I already spy on these people through my workers, but hey, maybe you can catch something I missed. And the last one would go out into the city itself. The mercenary guilds here are under my authority, so I would just set you up with one, and you can go from there.”

“Hm…I hope I’m not being rude to Noriko, but I’m pretty sure you want me to join the wedding party.”

“Well it’s not the first time this gal’s played a servant,” Noriko commented, looking thoughtful, “She’s played a guard too, so eh, it works for her.”

“...Do you really believe the mercenary guilds require investigating?” Michael asked.

“I believe I don’t want you sleeping under the same fucking roof as me,” Brascul replied, “I do think you’ll be handier out in the city though. You don’t seem like you could handle staying around Richard for long.”

Considering Raphael couldn’t help but punch him after their interactions… “Your point is a fair one…archduchess.”

“So now you’ll use my title. I guess I don’t mind the flattery.” She pushed her chair back as she stood. “Princess, come on.”

Noriko blinked. “Eh? Me?”

“Yeah, I oughta introduce you to my guards. These two should air their grievances too, so I’m giving them privacy.” Brascul glanced at Michael, a slight smirk at her face. “It’s up to you whether it’s kindness or cruelty on my part.”

“...I doubt you’ll be kind to me,” Michael muttered as Brascul left. Noriko followed her after a moment, though not before giving an awkward wave to the angel and the druid. And then they were alone. “...”

“...”

“...We should talk,” Michael said.

“We should,” Anaya agreed, “We really should.”

“...Why are you so upset?”

“Do I really need to answer that? I yelled my reasons at you earlier.”

They swallowed their saliva while trying to muster some response. Some anger that would let them argue properly. “Then it’s all about Goldforge?”

“Are you jealous?” Anaya snarked, barely hiding her irritation–

“W-What?! Jealous?! Why would I be–”

“Gods above, don’t–Don’t act like I’m stupid, alright? You’re obvious, your crush is obvious, I’m just–I can’t deal with that right now because I just learned someone I thought was a decent person mutilated one the heroes who saved me!”

Michael opened their mouth, paused, then managed to rally as a thought came to them. “I saved your life too! I–”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” They stopped, staring as she stood, a scowl on her face, more anger than they’d ever seen from the friendly druid. “Is that–Is that all this is to you?! Scoring points in an argument!?”

“N-No, that’s not–Anaya, please, I just…I…” They couldn’t apologize. The words wouldn’t come to them because, at the end of it, there wasn’t anything to apologize for. They had obeyed their god, they followed the orders they were given, it was the decision of the divine and Goldforge had committed his crimes. Even now, he was living with his “love”, so what guilt should they feel? He’d gotten more from the situation than they had.

Anaya wasn’t paying attention to that though. She’d sat again, her hands in her lap, her breath evening out as she calmed herself.

“...I did as my god commanded,” Michael insisted.

“Just as centuries of demons did as their gods commanded in butchering my people,” Anaya replied.

“That–You can’t compare–That’s different!” But is it? Coco said as much in his claims of conviction– “They are gods of death! I serve the–”

“The Rakuli, the gods of life, I know, I serve them too. I haven’t exiled nor mutilated nor attempted to murder anyone on their behalf though, not on their orders, and I’m not an angel who should be held to a higher standard. Just an idiot druid who wound up with more authority than she should have because everyone above her died.” Her eyes snapped open, that glare from earlier returning. “How many people have you killed on their orders?”

“That–Those I have slain were demons, monsters! The forces of the invaders you hate!”

“...” She sighed. “You know I can’t believe that now. I’m sure you’ve killed demons, I’m sure you’ve killed monsters, I’ve seen you do both. But, knowing what I know now about Julius Goldforge–”

“I never mutilated him!” Michael insisted, even though they knew that was a lie, “Not intentionally! It was a fight between us–”

“To the death. Where you wanted to kill him. And he spared you, didn’t he?”

They scowled, the wound at their chest throbbing at its remembrance. “He cut open my chest! How is that sparing me!?”

Anaya blinked, a frown coming to her face, before she sighed again. “You’re alive, aren’t–Ugh, no, that’s not fair, that’s…”

She let out a frustrated noise, fingers bunching up in the fabric of her skirt.

Michael could get through to her. They could explain and she would agree with them, it was fine, this was fixable. “Everything I did, I did under the orders of my Holy Father and the Elder Light. I–”

She snorted. Why did she snort? “Sure, you and every other paladin in Zemava who never once tried to help us…Did your Holy Father order you to leave us to die year after year, or did you just–”

“I’ve fought for Naloriva before! I–”

“When? I never saw an angel with red wings fighting against the candleheads or the warbands and I sure as hell never saw you fighting Kigalori. I saw a bunch of kids trying their best to keep it together when I and every other adult around them failed them! I lost my leg because that damned dragon turned half of it to stone and I had to lose the rest or else it would spread. You lost your hand trying to murder one of the heroes that killed that monster! THERE’S NO EQUIVALENCE HERE!”

Michael stood, a growl coming to their lips. “I OBEYED THE WILL OF MY–!”

“Would you kill me if your god ordered it?”

That stopped them short. They just…stared at Anaya, mouth still open for a tirade about how the will of the gods mattered more than the lives of traitors, that they had done nothing wrong and the actions of Goldforge and his empress were a threat that could not be denied. And none of those words came because they knew what the answer to her question was.

And Anaya knew too, clearly and obviously knew, because of how she slowly nodded, then stood. “...It appears I acted hastily in attempting to broach this topic right now. Tensions are still high and my temper is frayed. Good night.”

And she turned and left.

…

“Wow, that went worse than I thought,” Brascul commented as she reentered the room.

Michael had sat back down at some point. They weren’t sure when, exactly, though there was a heavy feeling across their body that likely contributed. “...have you come to mock me, pirate?”

“Yes, mainly. I notice I’m ‘pirate’ now instead of ‘archduchess’. Is your respect proportional to how upset you are?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a yes then.” She moved over to Michael, crouched by them, and unlocked their cuffs before removing them as she stood again, tossing the manacles onto her desk.

The angel blinked, slowly, flexing their hands, then looked up at Brascul. “...Why?”

“You know why.” She didn’t elaborate even with their obviously confused gaze. “Your crush already has her room set up, so don’t worry about her. The princess, meanwhile, the Gororan one, is out on the town, last I heard. Seeing the sights, I suppose. Or scouting them.”

“...Hmph. She can handle herself.”

“I imagine she can. The real question is if you can.”

“...” They glared over at Brascul as she took a seat at her desk. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” They still didn’t. “I considered poisoning your tea.”

They blinked at the non-sequitur. “...That would be ineffective. I’m an angel.”

“There are poisons that could kill an angel.” Brascul opened the collar of her shirt and tugged on it, showing a small tattoo of a snake with a scorpion’s tail tracing around her neck. The mark of Vitriol.

“You follow the god of poison!?”

“Not especially. All seafarers follow either Mesic or Fathom, praying to the waters or the depths. It’s a thing among sunlander nobles though, in parts of the continent where poisons are plentiful, to invoke the Sommelier for protection against her children. All that to say that if I did want to poison you, I could. Whether it would kill you or not is up in the air, but the point is moot anyway. The only reason I considered it was because I wanted to see if I could scare you, Cardinal of Fortitude.”

They sneered. “You couldn’t.”

“In that way, sure. But you can feel fear, Cardinal.” She smiled. “I can tell.”

A snarl came to their face as they stood–Before pausing as a knock came to the door.

“Come in,” Brascul said, her smile still in place as a man entered. A human man, with short, black hair and a tanned complexion, wearing a blue vest over a white blouse and tan breeches. He was somewhat skinny and scruffy too, with an overly casual gait and a smile that bared teeth far sharper than a normal human’s.

“Good evenin’ Captain!” He greeted her with a raised hand, his palm covered in the calluses of a workman. “I’d tip my hat, but Signora Orna already took it.”

“I’ll tell Torna to give it back when you leave,” Brascul replied, before gesturing to Michael, “Jack, this is Misha Redwing, the paladin you were informed about.”

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“Ahhh, so you’re the attempted assassin! I have to say, tryin’ to kill the captain with a carriage is probably one of the more out there attempts I’ve seen, so props to you for that one.”

Michael scowled. “I didn’t try to assassinate her! Charlie just–I don’t need to explain myself to you!”

“No you don’t!” he agreed in an amused tone, “And believe me, Isha, we wouldn’t be talking if you did. Mostly because you’d be dead and I’d only be here if the captain wanted me specifically to get rid of your body for some reason. Don’t mind that though, and my bad, I haven’t introduced myself.” He held out a hand, grinning again. “Giacomo Belsito, interested to meet you. Friends call me Jack.”

Belsito? I’ve heard that name before…Right, Katsuro mentioned–Ah. So this was the man who executed the Blue Scales’ guildmasters in Gorokiva. The man who delivered their heads to the empress. Suddenly, his chipper grin carried more menace to it. “Hm. Your reputation precedes you.”

“It does? Great! I’ve been tryin’ but I didn’t think–” He seemed to realise they weren’t shaking his hand and laughed, running it through his hair. “So, it seems like the two of us are gonna be getting acquainted.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Jack is going to be your guide in the city,” Brascul answered.

“I don’t need–”

“Yes, you do. The only charity I’m extending here is that I’m calling him your guide, not your minder.”

Their scowl deepened, though they stiffened when Belsito clapped a hand to their shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Miss Isha, I’m the best guide you can ask for! I know this town like the back of my ha–Huh, that’s new…”

They were not at all reassured.

“...Are you certain I cannot–”

“Yes,” Brascul bluntly said, “Now get out of my house.”

----------------------------------------

Despite Michael’s misgivings, it turned out Giacomo actually was fairly knowledgeable about his home city. Or at least so they presumed; he could be lying to them about everything he pointed to and they would have no idea.

“–and right over there’s the captain’s outer office, where you can usually find her. She doesn’t like usin’ the palace offices all that much, not sure why specifically, but with the royals staying there, she’s gotta make some allowances, capisce?” he explained, leading them across a bridge over one of the city’s many canals and frequently gesturing with his hands as he spoke, a black trilby on his head, “Now as for where we’re headed, the docks here, which plenty of people call the six fingers of Orin, are each about the size of a town in their own right. There’s residential areas, commercial areas, entertainment districts, but each dock likes to present itself like it has its own niche, it’s own personal style, and the people contribute to that! Take where we’re goin’, for example–

“Now the thing you need to know about the Third Dock is that while it’s mainly known as the Merchant’s Quarter, it’s also home to our city’s very own Thieves’ Guild and they’re very annoyin’ depending on the time of day and if you’re guarding yourself properly or not. The bigger part though is that it’s mainly where the White Furs make their place, and now they’re a very aggressive bunch, you know them? The scowl says you do, so there we go, handy and helpful, but we can come by here again later. Shops tend on this dock tend to be more open during the day, it’s mainly five that has the ‘nighttime’ businesses, but any dock is bound to have at least someone moving around after dark, even if it’s just types like us–”

“And here’s the big one, the home turf, the place you’ll wanna be! Dock Two!” Giacomo announced as they stepped off another bridge. Why they had to pass through “Dock Three”, Michael wasn’t sure, but they weren’t really paying much attention either as the human yammered on. Up until they actually noticed the architecture surrounding the plaza they’d just entered.

“Welcome to Mercenary’s Square!” Giacomo declared, turning around and spreading his arms wide with a grin as he stood atop a sundial planted in the middle of the four way intersection that formed the streets.

Michael raised an eyebrow at the human’s antics, then glanced around the square in question, taking in the large buildings that took up each corner of the plaza. They were guild halls, that much was unmistakable, though a size larger than most they’d seen. More akin to two story villas than the typical lodges, the lights and lamp posts set up around the square allowed Michael to see three of the buildings in full, stark relief, as well as notice that the lights around them actually seemed to be deliberately colored to match the work of the buildings themselves.

To be clear, the guild halls couldn’t be more blatant and obvious about which guild they represented. Position-wise, Michael and Giacomo had entered from the right side of the plaza, coming from Dock 3 to Dock 2, so that gave the angel the clearest view of the left side of the square, assuming one was facing northward. And that meant they could clearly see the Zeman-style architecture–characterized by sloping roofs, square walls, and marble columns–decorated with etchings and statues of phoenixes right across from a building that looked vaguely Gororan to Michael–what with the slanted, curling roofs, rounded windows, and serpentine statues–though it had open verandas and some curved arches that seemed more in common with Orindaco’s general building styles.

And since they could clearly see the opposing buildings, they could also easily tell which factions they belonged to, especially because not only were the buildings fully painted and decorated in the colors of the Red Feather and Blue Scale “Adventurer Guilds”, but the street lamps set up alongside them were literally emanating their faction’s colors. Red light shone on the red building, blue light shone on the blue buildings, and a glance to the side at the large guild hall on Michael’s right–itself more resembling a traditional Tramontan hunting lodge–showed its white walls were equally illuminated by white lights, like some kind of model house made of white chocolate. …Why did my brain go to that as a comparison? Am I hungry?

Shaking off that thought, Michael glanced at the last building in the square, the one behind them and to their left, and raised an eyebrow as they took in the sight of a pitch-black building built like some type of Rosian manor. They couldn’t actually make out much details because while the other three buildings were largely shining brightly even in the encroaching evening, the Black Shell’s building–because it was blatantly them, they literally had turtle shell knockers on their front door–was completely dark, as though the night was wrapping around it. Though then Michael noticed the street lamps on that side seemed to be emitting actual elemental darkness instead of light and they felt a headache coming on.

So they turned back to Giacomo, who had held his position during all their thinking, a grin still present on his face as he stood atop the sundial and showed off what was apparently his neighborhood.

“You should get down from there,” Michael advised, “You could slip and break your neck.”

“Wow, you’re really sounding like the captain there.” The angel felt their eye twitch at the comparison. “But alright, you’re the boss!”

And he quite casually did a flip off of the sundial, landing easily on his feet. Michael didn’t even need to Look to tell Pride was radiating off of the ridiculous human.

He didn’t seem bothered by their lack of applause, still smiling a sharp-toothed smile that reminded them of Noriko. Though he still had actual lips. “Speaking of bosses, I oughta introduce you to mine!”

“I would rather you didn’t–“

“Nope, it’s happening, come on.”

And so Michael found themself being led across the square and to…led past the blue guild hall, which was still bustling with activity as the evening turned to a proper night. “We’re not going to the guild hall?”

“Nah, of course not. Did you think the boss actually hangs around the hall?”

“Why wouldn’t I? A guildmaster–”

“Ah, but he’s not a guildmaster, is he?” Giacomo chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets as he led the way over another canal, “See, the issue you’re running into is assuming, like most people, that Dock Two being the ‘Mercenary Dock’ means anyone important actually stays around there. See, the way it works in theory is that all the guilds are supposed to be balanced together, all in one spot so they keep an eye on each other and don’t cause problems. In practice though, every guild has their own turf they prefer to hang around instead. The guild halls are the official, bureaucratic side to it, but the real side? They’re all over the city. Capisce?”

“...I believe so,” Michael muttered, glancing back at the guild halls for a moment. Each one bustling with activity–aside from the Black Shells, which seemed distinctly quiet–and illuminated as though they embodied the guilds themselves. But that was just a distraction, shining bright to keep eyes away from the truth.

They turned forward again, following Giacomo. They should have expected as much from a city of liars and reprobates. And you fit right in– “So, you are a major part of the guild, correct?”

“Well I wouldn’t want to toot my own horn too loud, but yeah, basically. I mean hell, my brother basically runs the whole guild, so you can see why I’d be somethin’ of a big shot.”

Michael paused for a moment as they took that in.

"Your...brother?"

"Yup, Asher is a pretty important guy around here. Hell, he even dealt with a big problem over in Gorokiva. Ah, though I probably shouldn't talk about that…."

...So this wasn't the person who mercilessly killed all those guildmasters, but just his brother. Hm. Suddenly, any hint of menace Giacomo carried faded entirely.

"...So what exactly do you do?"

"Well, you know, I'm basically his right hand man. So, I take care of what he needs done."

“So what do you do?”

“Eh ha, uh…his paperwork, mostly,” Giacomo admitted, rubbing the back of his head. The hint of menace had not only faded, but died entirely while leaving a pretty pathetic looking corpse. “But I also do other stuff! Like running messages and, uh…ah, I’ve done some shakedowns on his behalf too, definitely done those.”

“I see.”

Giacomo nodded, before abruptly stiffening and glancing back at Michael. “Uh…I mean…I’ve never done anything that could constitute a criminal activity in my life, Sister Paladin.”

They blinked. Sister? Is he faithful? Odd for a criminal, though…no, never mind.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” they agreed in a tone that made it obvious they didn’t agree at all.

“They were legal shakedowns–Damn it, what were we supposed to call them…Repossessions! They were respossion–Respo–Repos! I repo’d, that’s, yeah.”

Somehow, “repossession” sounded more criminal than “shakedown”. “Weren’t you taking me somewhere?”

“Right! Yeah, right over here, just down this way, round this corner and here we go!” With a dramatic flourish, Giacomo gestured to an actual villa at the edge of the dock, relatively close to where the Serpent Guild Hall was on the other side. The new building was definitely more an actual residence though, marked off by a gated fence and spread out over a wide property with potted hedges and marble statues decorating the exterior. “Welcome to Villa Veloah!”

The villa itself seemed to be two-storied like the guild halls, perhaps a mark of wealth–most of the buildings Michael was seeing across the “First Dock” appeared to be a fancier quality than those they’d seen over in the Third, for comparison; more marble than granite and brick–though parts of it extended outward, with what appeared to be–and Michael couldn’t help an irritated sigh at this sight–an indoor pool. Why would anyone need something like that when the entire blasted city is surrounded by water?!

There were some people in blue around–guards of some description most likely, though they seemed to be mainly hanging around, drinking and chatting at tables along the veranda–though none of them reacted to Giacomo’s presence aside from a few raised hands in greeting, which he returned. Michael’s presence with him earned some more curious looks, but they weren’t stopped at all as Giacomo led them into the villa itself, proving his claims of importance.

As for the interior, it was fairly ostentatious with a lot of lazuli in the decorations. Very nautical themed too, with swords on display, model ships along the shelves, and some extremely expensive looking alcohols placed at points of what most would consider spots of honor. There were plenty of bottles placed in what looked like glass cabinets along the wall, marked and labeled, though the most significant and obvious item in the main hall Giacomo led them down was a massive painting of what appeared to be a nereid–a sea elf, in other words, distinct from the other elvish races by their blue skin/scales, gills, and fin-like ears–in an open white shirt that bared most of his muscular chest.

“...Giacomo.”

“Yeah, Sister Isha?”

Still going with the “Sister” thing then. Very well. “Is this painting of your employer?”

“That it is! ‘Don Avilio Veloah, Man of the Sapphire Sea’!” Giacomo declared, gesturing towards the portrait with a proud smile, “An artistic depiction of Sapphire Serpent’s capo dei capi, our boss of bosses! Also called an obermeister if you’re in Tramontava. Learned that bit of trivia from a friend.”

“Hm. And he really looks like that?”

“He does!”

“With bulging muscles and a curly mustache?” Michael wasn’t about to mention the other obvious attribute, but suffice to say the man apparently wore indecently tight pants.

Giacomo nodded sharply. “He has a mustache, yeah.”

“Hm. And wings?”

“That’s an artistic depiction, Sister. Metaphorical and all. Or allegorical.”

“So then he doesn’t commonly have a scantily clad blonde clinging to his leg.” His left leg, specifically, because the right one was placed atop a rock as a wave crashed up behind him, though the painted man was miraculously dry. Possibly because of the aforementioned wings.

“Nah, not usually. You can ask the man himself if you’re that curious, Sister Isha.”

Michael didn’t plan to, though they did raise an eyebrow when they entered the dining room Giacomo brought them to and saw “Don” Avilio Veloah appeared to be entertaining a guest. Not a blonde though, so hm.

“Well would you look at that. Jacky, I see you found our guest for the night!” greeted the head of the Sapphire Serpents Adventurers/Mercenaries Guild as he rose from his place at the table. Not at the head, curiously, but directly across from a human woman wearing a well-tailored teal gown. A fairly modest one at that, with a high neck that seemed somewhat uncomfortable given the average heat of Summertime along the southern half of the continent, though the blue coldstones sewn into the fabric likely aided in keeping the raven-haired woman–her severe face lined with either stress or aging, possibly both–cool during the day.

It was also blatantly obvious who she was, so Michael gave a bow to the first queen of Luceneva. “Good evening, your majesty.”

“...Okay, hi, how?”

They blinked. “How what?”

“How do you know who I am? I’m wearing my hair down, I have on my least expensive dress–” Michael was fairly certain the buttons of said dress were made of platinum, so “least expensive” was clearly very relative. Also, wasn’t teal one of the colors of her household? “–and I took pains to make sure my makeup looked average. So what gave it away?”

“You have a very distinctive presence, your majesty,” Michael answered in lieu of being honest and admitting the queen looked a lot like the actress who played her younger self in “The Unlikely King”.

“So you saw that godsawful play too then.” Something in their eyes must have given it away… “Never mind. Tell no one I was here.”

They furrowed their brows. “I do not obey you. I am no citizen of yours.”

“You’ll find that does not matter when it comes to respecting the will of royals.” She stood, folding her gloved hands in her lap before looking at Veloah. “Avilio, I will be taking my leave now–”

“Already? But we’re barely through the wine!” Veloah exclaimed, a smile on his sea-blue face that made his already curly mustache curl even further. So the painting was correct on that account, though the man, while still somewhat well-built, was significantly less exaggeratedly muscular than his painted counterpart. “Come on now, sit! Allow your humble host to entertain you for the night!”

“...” Michael could see the queen try not to sigh. “Thank you, Avilio, but I really must insist. I have duties to attend to–”

“Ah, but what duties could there be in this wonderful seaside town~? Trust me, let your hair down, let the wine flow, your majesty, and you’ll find this city to be more majestic than any other~!”

“No. Good night.”

“Ha, very well then, your majesty~” He bowed with a flourish as she left, overdramatic in ways that reminded Michael of a few different people…for a moment, the angel Looked at the queen, checking to see if she was human.

Which she was. Just a middle-aged human, albeit one who seemed mystically inclined from the gleam of her aura, which was largely tinged towards a mix of pride and envy. Not uncommon in the insecure.

“Hm. So, you are Avilio Veloah then, the ‘Sapphire Serpent’,” Michael said, turning to the nereid–who was also a nereid, as they could clearly see; one tinged with a mix of sins too multicolored to really make out, though the most prominent seemed to be a golden avarice–who let out a laugh.

“Ha ha! The Sapphire Serpent, huh? I suppose that’s accurate to me. After all, the don of the serpents would be considered the serpent itself~! And what would you be, little feather flying so far from home?” His cadence was overly flowery too, with a touch of an accent similar to Giacomo’s and somewhat common to the Adunca region. Though wasn’t that absorbed into Rosiava at some point?

“Misha Redwing. I don’t especially know why I am here, but Giacomo was assigned as my guide and you are his superior who he insisted I should meet.”

“That’s right, Don Veloah!” Giacomo interceded, hat off and pressed to his chest as he gave a bow. To him, not to the queen. “This is Sister Isha, a paladin of the Faith of Light. The captain doesn’t like her.”

“Ha, I can see why~!” What? What did I do? Veloah wagged a finger, smirking in a condescending way. “There’s no paladin order called ‘Redwing’, so either you’re going by a pseudonym or you’re going against the rules of your faith. You have the look of a Centola, so it’s one or the other.”

Michael scowled. They were doing that a lot lately. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“You don’t, but it would make things more convenient for the both of us!”

“Why? I don’t even know why I’m here or why Brascul would decide to send me to you!”

“Isn’t it obvious? It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?” he asked, glancing at Giacomo.

“Yeah, very obvious, don.”

“See? It should be obvious you were dropped in my lap here because my good old friend Margrave doesn’t like you and does like me. It should be obvious you’re not trusted, and while I don’t know every reason why just yet, I’m sure you know exactly why that is. And last off, it should be obvious if you know anything about me or my history why that all would be the case.

He spread his arms, similarly to Giacomo earlier, and smiled wide. “After all, I was her first mate!”

They blinked. “Her mate?”

“Her first one, yes!”

Suddenly the blonde on the painting made a great deal more sense. She even had a similar shade of blonde to Brascul…though does she have children? Something to look into, though it’s curious that the two don’t seem to be together now…Whatever, I can figure it out later. “Fine, you’re close then. All you need to know from me though is that I am the paladin selected to be on the tour of the Light Lands and I’m not using the name Centola because I refuse to keep using that name.”

“Ahh, the most reasonable motivation of all: Fuck the Centolas! Yes, I can definitely get behind that motivation, it’s a strong one, one that grows all the stronger the more you have to interact with them~! But enough about them, let’s talk about me! What do you, Misha Redwing, happen to know about me, hm?”

“You’re the head of the Sapphire Serpents.” They glanced over at Giacomo, though they didn’t see him–No, wait, there he was, he’d moved over to the…piano in the room. What? “...And apparently Brascul’s first mate.”

“Ah ha ha, those are all true, sì sì, certo, but! My story, you see, is far grander than that~!”

Giacomo had started playing the piano. Why was he playing the piano?

The lights started to dim until the room was dark, before one light shone down on Veloah specifically. “For you see…when I was but a young maaaaan, living by the seaaaaaa~”

“Living by the sea~” Giacomo echoed, also singing. Because they were both singing. What.

So surprised was Michael that they didn't even stop the pair of blue-shirted workers who suddenly entered and guided them into a chair. Though, also, what?

“I alway did know, what I wanted to beeeee~eeeee~!” Climbing onto a table, Veloah continued to sing, striding about the room on tabletop. That is to say several other workers–who entered just, from places, apparently; were there entrances in the floor??–lifted the table he was on, along with several others, and moved each surface in front of him as he walked and sang along his rudimentary stage.

And while he was admittedly a good singer, Michael had no idea what in the world was going on–

“BUT THEN!” They stiffened, instinctively flinching at the sudden turn of tempo. “Fate called upon me~! And I found a brand new reprieeeeeeeve~! In OriiiiiindaaaaaaaaaCO!”

All the lights suddenly turned on at once and there was apparently a full cast of dancers and back-up singers and just–What.

WHAT!?