12:40 PM | Last Respite, Thyellikos | October 1st | 1608 COVENANT

Lamu's body went rigid. Without ceremony, she raised stiffly from the sofa, turned, and headed towards the door.

"Woah, woah, heyheyhey!" Nhi exclaimed from behind her, throwing up her arms. "Settle down. You haven't even let me get to the point yet."

She kept walking, but as she approached the door it abruptly slammed shut. She snapped her head backwards, and saw the other woman pointing at her with a long, thin metal implement. Her previously laid-back expression had been replaced by a more resolved look, and her gaze was focused intently. At least in this brief moment, she exuded danger - the look of someone prepared to do anything to accomplish their goals.

Lamu's hand went instinctively to one of her vials of eris, her eyes widening. "You're an arcanist?"

Somehow, Nhi managed to maintain this impression for a few moments even as she spoke the following words: "No. This is a remote for the doors and air conditioning."

Briefly speechless, Lamu looked again at the rod. It was lined with colorful buttons.

After a moment, the older woman let out an over-dramatic sigh, the severity fading as she returned to her normal self. "Not that I'd have much chance against you even if I were, huh?" She giggled, holding her fingers to her lips. "Even now, I bet there's only a handful of people who could take you down."

Lamu flinched slightly. Did she--

"Seriously, though!" Nhi continued. "I know I'm picking a scab right now-- Your file isn't just new information. But c'mon! You could at least hear me out, since I came all the way down here." Her face briefly lit up as something seemed to occur to her, and she rooted around the pocket of her cardigan, withdrawing a small logic engine. "Catch."

She tossed the device at Lamu, who almost swatted it out of the air in her state of heightened anxiety, but managed to stifle the impulse and grab it instead.

"That's got about 600,000 luxury debt worth of stock certificates on it, all split into chunks of 1000, registered at different accounting guilds, and traded through enough proxies to make tracing their purchase back basically impossible, even for the Convention Treasury Office." She inclined her head. "Go ahead! Check for yourself!"

Lamu stared at the woman for a moment, still guarded, but did as she bid, pressing her thumb against the false iron. From what she could discern from a quick overview of the data, it was as she said. Most of the stocks were even in large and state-run companies, which were much safer to trade for luxury debt relief, but also more difficult and expensive to amass in this style. That they'd done so regardless...

Well, almost as much as tracking her down in the first place, it spoke to who she was dealing with.

In any event, even with the surge in inflation brought about by the Empyrean War, this was a lot of money. Far more than even her and Gudrun's recent payout. You could live comfortably with this much, even in a place like Last Respite, for a solid decade.

However, considering the price being asked...

"I." She hesitated, her tone rigid. "I can't accept this. Even when I was young, I never had any relationship to the Order of the Universal Panacea and my uncle's work, and anything more personal than that I don't wish to discuss, regardless of how much you're willing to pay." She moved to set the logic engine down on a shelf by the door. "I'll be going--"

"Hey now, who said anything about pay?" Nhi interjected playfully. "That, right there? It's just a gift." She smiled wide. "No questions asked, a mere gesture of good faith, to show you the kind of resources we have on tap and hopefully buy a few minutes of your time."

Lamu flinched. "'Hopefully.'"

"Well yeah," Nhi said. "I've already given it to you, so you don't have to stay. You can take the money and leave now, no strings attached."

"Then I will." She turned towards the door again.

But even as she said the words, her conviction faltered, the weight of her circumstances and the shock of what just happened overwhelming old defenses in her mind. Her legs refused to move.

"You don't even have to tell me anything," Nhi reassured her. "Like I said! I just want you to hear me out. Won't take more than, say, ten minutes?"

The room was briefly silent.

"...fine," Lamu said quietly. "But there's nothing I can tell you. All you're doing is paying me an exorbitant sum to waste your own time."

The woman sighed with relief, then broke into a laugh. "Trust me-- Wouldn't be the first time!"

That was what came out of her mouth. But Lamu could see her eyes, and what they were saying was we'll see about that.

They went back to the coffee table. Lamu sat back down, while Nhi set the remote down on the side of the sofa.

"You're sure you won't have any tea?"

"No."

"Suit yourself!" She sipped from her own cup regardless, then crossed her legs under her long skirt, leaning back. "So! Where were we-- Right. A technology that could change the world. Take all the stuff that's gone to shit in our society and fix it. The conflict between generations, the institutional rot and segregation brought on by the consolidation of power by land owners, and all the old grudges." She looked up at the tempest, twisting a lock of silver hair around her forefinger. "Real talk, I'm kind of a skeptic when it comes to that sort of technological optimism. Don't get me wrong! I know it's happened from time to time in human history: Industrialization, the replication revolution, yada-yada. But more often than not - a lot more often than not! - the idea of any technology being able to save the world is basically hype? Even if it works, an invention might not have the impact people imagine, and even when it does, society's messy! Things get set in motion and then keep rolling in ways you don't expect. Going back to the Iron Princes, mind uploading could have built humanity a utopia, but because of the social conditions at the time, the whole thing turned into a clusterfuck. And even if everything does work out, who is to say everyone with power will tolerate the change to the status quo? Some types - and hoo, believe you me, I meet a lot of 'em - would prefer to sail their boat right into a maelstrom than give up their comfy bed in the captain's cabin or their right to stand at the wheel. Human nature! It's a real bitch to wrangle, I'll say that much."

Lamu listened to her ramble in silence. And that was all she was going to do - listen, take the money, and then put this behind her. Maybe answer a few basic questions if she offered a large enough incentive, but probably not even that. She believed this.

"But!" Nhi continued, dropping the strand and holding up the finger as if she was cutting off a sentence Lamu hadn't actually started. "But. If there's one thing that has more power to dictate our collective unconscious than greed, it's belief. Real belief, not the kind you see in the bored or the desperate but the real thing, is, well-- It's scary as fuck. Real belief can reshape the world like it's nothing at all." She lazily picked the file back up from the table, flicking through it. "I should know. It's how we built the Grand Alliance. For all of human history, world government was considered a utopian fantasy, but after the Great Interplanar War, when we'd buried millions of our dead and everyone saw the pictures of what the poison we put in their water did to those creatures and their hosts, a whole world of sapient beings just gone... For just a moment, it felt like everyone spoke in unison: Never again. Almost everyone agreed we had to be better, and the few who didn't at least agreed we had to be smarter - once you see a world die, you can picture it happening to you. Boom! One moment of clarity, where something seems unambiguously true, and that's all it takes. The impossible becomes possible."

She shook her head, then continued. "And you know, nowadays? People will say it wasn't really about that. That it was really about the economic benefits of political alignment, or the organizational infrastructure left over from the war, or the concentration of power around the Mmenomic since the fall of the Empire. Like it was all a foregone conclusion. But all those people - the historians, the sociologists, and economists - they're like a guy who's just woken up from a fever dream trying to explain what happened logically. Because real belief? Real belief? It's madness. Everyone was mad back then. With fear, with horror, with grief. If we were being rational we would never have done it-- It's the only real way you can get humans to cooperate on that scale, to stop hating each other for reasons basically baked into our brain structure, to accept big change. You have to drive them insane."

She leaned forward, lifting up her cup for another sip, but didn't drink just yet. "So what really changes the world, whether you're talking about an innovation or a movement, is the ability to harness those things. The horror. The fear. The grief. To burn down someone's life to a blank slate, and then say, 'what will you do now'?"

"Why are you talking about all of this," Lamu asked flatly.

For a moment, Lamu thought she saw a look of suggestion cross the other woman's features, a wordless 'why do you think?' But in an instance it was gone. "Sorry, sorry. You're right, totally losing the thread here." She giggled. "So yeah: The Order. Right before the end, they were working on something. A big project." Her eyes met Lamu's sharply. "You know about this, Lilith?"

"You said I didn't need to answer questions," Lamu said, and as soon as the words left her mouth they felt like defeat. Whining, impotent, an obvious admission of the real answer.

"You don't!" Nhi chipped back. "Just, y'know, if you want to. All of this is opt in. You can get off any time you want."

Lamu said nothing.

"But yeah, we know a lot about it," Nhi continued, finally taking a sip so loud Lamu almost suspected she was being obnoxious on purpose. She set the cup back down, and pulled out the parchment she'd been looking for a few moments earlier. "It was a good bit of luck that let us finally put it all together, actually. We managed to find a list drawn up by a leaker within the Order around the time of its development, name of - ooh, pardon me, my written Ysaran isn't the best, gotta squint - 'Zurupa of Mezikem'. It outlines some basic facts, like the involvement of Neuromancy and Egomancy, and everyone who was-- Well, not per-se in the know at the time, but a potential beneficiary." She looked amused. "Weirdly amateur opsec for the Order, honestly? They were usually pretty good."

"How would you know who wrote it?" Lamu asked. "Presumably they wouldn't have signed their real name."

"Oh, they didn't. We did a handwriting trace," Nhi explained, with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "But anyway, I won't bore you with the details. The point is, we'd had a pretty good idea what was going on prior to this point - Zeno of Apocyrion was always kinda lousy when it came to keeping his accomplishments close to his chest? - but it was following up on the names of this note that really made it all click together. A real skeleton key, you might say."

She passed the parchment for Lamu to read, which she did, relatively thoroughly. Even more than normal, her face betrayed no emotion.

"Did one of them tell you, then?" she eventually asked.

Nhi giggled. "I wish! That would be too easy." She shook her head. "No, everyone on this list is dead or missing. One might say circumspectly so! But we had other ways."

Lamu felt herself tense again. She slowly lowered the parchment back down to the table. "Who is 'we'?"

"Didn't I tell you already?" She stirred her tea. "A group of rich busybodies trying to save the world."

"That's not an answer. Are you some kind of secret society?"

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Nhi kept laughing as she sipped again. "God, I love that trope! Cabal of shadowy figures pulling the strings on the whole world. As if it's something any one group could ever hope to control. As if it's not ragtag packs of doofuses calling their friends and trading gossip like tertiary schoolers all the way down!" She rolled her eyes, like Lamu had said something hopelessly silly, but she was willing to overlook it in the spirit of the laid-back exchange they were having. "Besides, you don't need to form some dark council if your ambitions are as humble as just holding things together. You can meet in a cafe square in the middle of the Old Yru boulevard."

"You could at least give me your birthplace name. Make it seem a little less like you're obfuscating your identity."

"I use an Inner Saoic surname, and took my husband's. I wouldn't want to drag him into all of this." She wiggled the ring finger on her left hand. Indeed, there was a subtle silver band.

Once again, Lamu said nothing.

"Speaking of conspiracies, though, let's get back to that idea of a 'world changing technology.'" She held out a finger - her nails were painted a pale blue shade, Lamu noticed - and pulled the papers Lamu had deposited back towards her, scooping them up. "Now imagine you developed something like that. No hype, something truly revolutionary, that really does meet the criteria I was talking about a minute ago." She pointed to Lamu. "But instead of it getting out there, it gets appropriated. Employed not for the sake of mankind, but to serve the interests of a more select group. I'm saying that like it's the exception, but that's how it usually goes, isn't it? Iron, steam power, convention power-- All things where relative outsiders gained the power to destroy the existing order. History repeats!"

"I don't understand," Lamu cut in, tired of this beating around the bush, "what you want from me." Her body grew very still, the focus coming whether she wanted it or not. "I don't know anything about whatever technology the Order was developing."

Nhi raised her eyebrows. "You don't?" She shifted through the file again. "You're uncle - Hamilcar of Kane - was one of the Order's top brass. He mentored you! Pretty intimately, or so they say."

"I was a child back then," Lamu told her coldly. "He died long before I was old enough for him to trust me with anything important."

"Were you?" she asked. "A child?"

An ordinary person might have grit their teeth. For her, the world simply narrowed, quieted, until even breathing felt like a conscious choice she was making in each moment.

"I was." She stopped herself for several moments. "A type-II assimilation failure. I was even less functional than a normal child. I wasn't treated as an adult, if that's what you're insinuating."

"Your mother believed differently," Nhi mused, glancing idly towards the window. "Or so I'm told. I haven't read her book."

Lamu weighed the social and legal consequences of killing this woman. She was on the run from the law already, and probably wasn't going to end up staying in Last Respite regardless. But the room was likely monitored. Someone like this wouldn't truly have no security.

"...my mother only wrote that because she was desperate for money," she said instead. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. Is this all you wanted from me? If so, then there's nothing I can say. I'd like to leave."

Nhi, grey eyes half-closed, stared inquisitively at her for a moment as if searching for something. The moment dragged on unpleasantly, the water clock - previously unnoticed in the kitchen component of the large room - seeming to tick and bubble louder and louder. Finally, she looked back at the file for a moment, sighed, and dropped the whole thing down on the coffee table, stretching her arms out in a yawn.

"You know, Lilith," she said, as she lowered her arms. "I've got a lot of sympathy for you."

"What."

"I say 'sympathy' and not 'pity' because I feel like pity-- Well, it's basically a slur, you know? If you call someone pitiful, you're kinda calling them hopeless. Weak. But you?" She pointed casually. "I feel like you're strong. Some trees break in the wind, some bend, but you're the kind that won't budge an inch until its ripped out by the roots. And even then, you survive without compromising anything! Just removed. Somewhere else."

"I don't want your roundabout compliments," Lamu spoke, frowning. "If there's nothing else--"

"Now hold on, hold on," Nhi cut in, gesturing soothingly. "Sorry, I am awkward at this sort of thing, you're right! But you know, it's true. When I was reading through your file, it all just seemed so unfair." She folded her arms, wearing a sad expression. "Your father dies when you're still young, leaving you and your mother in relative poverty until she goes to your uncle for help. As the cost he effectively steals you, makes you his apprentice, and-- Shoot, let's just say we have some pretty detailed notes about the dealio with that whole relationship. Your success means you're pushed into Induction young, and have to deal with your mind not even being your own any more. But instead of taking you out of that world and trying to salvage some remnant of a childhood - or heck, even getting you a little therapy - he thrusts you into the spotlight! Makes everything you're going through a spectacle."

Lamu stood up. She took a step away from the sofa.

Nhi kept talking as if nothing had happened. "And then your uncle goes and dies, your class gets broken up and your academic career aborted, and half the skeletons in the Order's closet fall out. The rumor mill on the logic sea goes wild about your story, and ties it to your uncle's death in all kinds of stupid ways. People talk about you like you're a monster. A science experiment." She shook her head. "You and your mom are back on your own, and it's finally too much for her. You're left alone. But even so, even if you're left not even knowing who you are and what do make of your own memories, even if you're screwed-up in a way that can never be fixed, you refuse to--

"STOP." Lamu shouted suddenly.

Her voice - raised to a point beyond even anger - echoed up and down the high glass ceiling, and Nhi did, indeed, stop. Her expression returned almost at once to a neutral state, her hands falling on her lap.

Blood filled Lamu's cheeks. She turned to the other woman. "I agreed to listen to whatever proposal you had for me, not to hear you infantilize me in some bizarre mind game, presumably in an attempt to make me embarrassed or upset," she spoke tersely. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I acknowledge that my situation is desperate, and you're not wrong to assume that leaves me pliable, and forced to entertain fancies I otherwise wouldn't. But in spite of everything, I still have my dignity." She looked towards Nhi scornfully. "Tell me what you want, now, or I will leave."

The emotion she meant to put into the demand didn't reach her lips. It sounded too much like she was reading from a script again.

Nhi threw up her hands. "Alright, alright! I was just trying to build a rapport, but if you insist." She uncrossed her legs, sat up, and looked up at Lamu - still standing - with a somewhat more serious expression. "What we want is simple. Do you know the Ninsirsir?"

Lamu was surprised that she did. "Isn't that some kind of historic voidship?"

"That's right," the woman said with a nod. "The first flagship of the Grand Alliance Empyrean Fleet, commissioned more than 200 years ago. Back when even the idea of even needing such a thing was just an excuse to keep a bunch of old officers and turtans from the Great Interplanar War in fancy jobs." She reached down, taking another sip from her tea. "Nowadays, it's been converted into a luxury yacht, and every new years it's leased out for an exclusive party attended by a bunch of influential assholes from all over the Alliance, and even a few from the Triumvirate. We want you to be there!"

"Why."

"To tell the truth about the Order's project, and its implications in our world today, to a group of about 40-ish people," she answered. "Or at least that's the cliff notes version."

"I told you," Lamu insisted. "I don't know anything about their work from back then, let alone now."

"Well that's the thing, Lilith! That's the thing," Nhi retorted casually. "I think you're, like-- I mean, you're lying. Let's not mince words about it. In fact, I think you know better than almost anyone."

Lamu stared at her.

"Lemme talk about you just a lil' bit more, here," Nhi continued. The lighting from the storm suddenly changed, reddening and darkening as a chunk of shattered earth partially obscured the fiery core. Everything in the room was suddenly cast into stark, crimson-tinted shadow. "This time I'm going somewhere with it. You're here - well, not here in particular, but y'know, on the run - because you were discovered leaking military weapons research from your role at the Ba'Hon Temple of Golemancy to a laundry list of proscribed organizations, plus an investigation that revealed similar historical cases over the last couple decades." She tilted her head to the side. "Why'd you do that, Lilith?"

Lamu swallowed. "You just talked about it earlier. The world is in shambles. Everyone knows it's only a matter of time until the war escalates even further, and whole cities start being wiped out. Someone has to do something."

"Hmm, hmm~" She curled her lip into an inverted smile, nodding with facetious acceptance of this political wisdom. "Something, huh?"

"Yes," Lamu said stiffly. "Something." She hesitated as her mind reached for a fragment of sincerity in her actions with which to fashion a better answer, though since these were in short supply it took her several awkward seconds. "...and I'm tired of having to hide what I am from everyone around me. Of having to-- To live in fear."

She almost physically cringed. That one was even worse. It was like a line from a drama.

"But like, here's the thing," Nhi began countering. "You leaked this info to basically every major dissident group in the world, right? The Oathbreakers, the New Resurrectionists, the Greyflags. Even some separatist groups and lower plane partisans." She rolled her tongue. "These are all groups that want wildly different things using wildly different methods, and half of them hate each other just as much as they hate the Old Yru Convention. If you're angling for a particular political outcome, just spreading the data all over the place is, well, not smart? It totally negates any advantage any org in particular might pick up, especially since proliferating it that widely just ensures it'll get out to everyone, even the Triumvirate." She frowned quizzically. "Plus the Greyflags have been basically defunct since the 1579 Massacre, so it's, well, hard to see what you were going for there?"

"I just wanted the research cancelled, not given to any group in particular," Lamu told her, her lips feeling dry. "Proliferation was the easiest way to ensure it would be abandoned wholesale. And imbuing voidships with the level of artificed intelligence they planned was inherently dangerous."

"Mm, nah, I don't buy it," Nhi replied, the red light reflected in her eyes as she turned her head. "The 'concerned scientist' angle doesn't fit your profile. Not when you were happily designing adaptive shock troop augmentations just fifty years ago, when they were mostly being used on protestors."

"What are you insinuating."

"That you were ordered to do this, obviously. Not for any reasonable long-term goal, but just to sabotage the development of the next generation of battleships for a few years. Maybe two years, specifically?" She smiled crookedly. "It's a bit of a, like, sad thing to say about humanity? But most people aren't willing to leave everything behind for some vague moral principles. Especially not someone with a husband and son."

Lamu flinched. Her eyes fell.

"It honestly shocked me a bit - even though I'm not a mom myself? Can't stand kids, honestly - when I read it in the file, but meeting you now, I think I understand where you're coming from." She lowered her gaze, as if Lamu had moved back to the sofa, even though she was in actuality still standing. "You've been wrapped up in something for your entire life, Lilith. Since before you were even old enough to choose. Something that for you started with the Order, but is much, much bigger than that." Her lips flattened. "People trying to bring back something taken from them a long time ago, and who'd sooner burn this world to the ground than let it go."

She briefly became aware of the bottle in her pocket again, but then forced herself to try and relax.

"And you know, I get it, I do. We all get wrapped up in causes and legacies that are bigger than us, and I'd be kidding if I said I was an exception. That's the power of belief, too: Echoes that travel downstream through time and generations, sucking people in like that fucking storm up there that's giving me a migraine. It's just that in your case it's a bit more, y'know, direct." She once again lifted the teacup, sipped, and set it back down. "And I can't claim to know you. Maybe once, you really did believe." She looked back at where Lamu actually was. "But I can tell you don't now. You know why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lamu spoke weakly.

"Because you didn't let them take care of you after the job was done!" Nhi explained. "My guess? You're as much here to hide from them as you are from the Old Yru Convention. It's worn you down, made you give up so much, that all you've still got left in you is to leave it all behind. A last stand at the end of the world." She leaned forward. "You've known people will find you sooner or later. I don't think it's an accident that you came here, to the place your dad died all that time ago, you know? Maybe it's too bold for me to say it, but even if you've been telling yourself otherwise I think you came here to die too. Maybe to protect them, or maybe just to protect yourself."

Suddenly, Nhi grabbed the folder and raised to her feet as well, looking at Lamu with eyes that seemed, for a moment, to blaze blue against the red. "But you don't want to die, Lilith. Now that I've seen you, I can tell. You want a future, more than anything. Another chance to live."

Lilith's throat hitched. "I. I..."

"Come to this event and tell the world of what the Order accomplished," the other woman urged. "Free yourself of all of this. In return, we can give you a new identity and as much luxury credit as you want. Somewhere safe and away from all of this. Plus of course your family, assuming you want that." She opened up the file again, flipped to the end, and produced a few documents, one of which Lamu recognized as an identity writ. "Here's your invitation, as well as paperwork for a false identity that should get you to the pickup site in the Mimikos-- Though either way, we'll be watching the situation closely to make sure you don't have any trouble. There's also a second invitation for a plus one, in case there's anyone you'd like to bring for emotional support or otherwise, and finally some contact details if you have any questions."

She held out the ream of parchment. Lamu stared at it as though it was on fire.

"You don't have to choose now!" Nhi reassured her casually, though the gaze remained. "Like I said, no pressure. You're free to walk away, and your secret will be safe with us." Her eyes narrowed. "But I think you will come, Lamu. In fact, at this point, I'm very nearly certain."

"...why do you even want me for something like this?" Lamu asked, still looking at the papers. "Whatever this is about, you obviously know more than enough already. What would my testimony even add?"

"There's a power in symbols," she answered. "We will only have one chance to reveal the truth, and the blow we strike must be decisive. There's not enough time left for doubt." She lowered her voice. "You are Hamilcar of Kane's only living heir. The last scion of the founders of the Order of the Universal Panacea, and the final remnant of one of this world's legends. Your word can put an end to what began a millennia ago, and give the world knowledge of the transcending power they've kept for themselves, to accept - or reject - on even terms." She smiled warmly. "So what do you say?"

Lamu stood there, as brighter light cut back through the clouds of shattered stone more ancient than the world in which she'd been born - yet still as man made as everything else - and pretended, which she'd realize after the fact was a gesture wholly for herself, to be in a state of indecision.

Then, after a few moments, she took the papers.