Neither the members of the expedition nor the Thorburns had any delusions that the meeting would be over quickly. Yet, none of them had any idea that it would take hours, hours, of tense questions, snippy responses, and a heavy layer of truth-forcing magical aura to just get through introductions.

Kaz didn’t take too long to clear from suspicion, due to her forthright and direct answers, assisted by the fact that Zhevrun and Kattelox have been long-standing allies since the former nation’s secession from the larger Crown of Vale, early in the previous era. Her exploits as a former Captain are well enough known and her reasoning of seeking purpose during peacetime is understandable, especially for Flint.

Wren carries some suspicion as a former denizen of the Crown, but the truthful disdain for their former home helps absolve them in the eyes of the Thorburns. There is also the fact that the Crown has no central government at the moment, after the collapse of the previous council that oversaw the countless clans–and were responsible for nearly two millennia of bitter war. If anything, Wren’s words that they know nothing about any new attempt at Leadership for the Crow is reassuring.

Addy is honest about being a source of information for her government. However, considering that her government is run by the Thorburns, who know full well who she is, this is not seen as an issue. A few questions to make sure she hasn’t rambled about anything to anyone else outside of the room is all it takes for the interrogation to move on.

Dahlia characteristically has few words to answer the questions with. She grew up on a mushroom farm on the coast of Eryndal. She sends her family letters now and then. She doesn’t like the capital city of Alinor, nor does she know anything about the government. She has never physically met the Empress. Everything is met with a simple “Yes,” or “No,” and finally Flint moves on.

Cashew’s “interrogation” takes the longest, easily, out of the entire group. Belligerent and sarcastic, he dodges numerous questions and counters others with biting commentary about the Thorburns. Some criticisms and complaints are barbed and direct enough that it happens to catch the trio of brothers off guard and shows that Cashew is far more knowledgeable than his foul mouth would indicate. While Flint gets very little out of the Halfling, not even a real name, he does get the clear truth when Cashew states that he doesn’t work for “Fucking anyone,” except Felix, who has proven himself a worthy employer. “For now,” Cashew specifies.

Demy is scrutinized almost as heavily as Cashew, at least initially. With his gruff appearance, dodgy history, and annoyed demeanor, Flint expects as much of a fight for information out of Demy as there was for Cashew. However, that is quickly disproven. Demy is open about the fact that he knows basically nothing. He has never been to the capital of Krosis, has never met anyone from there, and doesn’t even know the name of the ruler of Phyleris. When pressed on his condition, Demy is honest, seeing no reason to hide it considering that Felix already knows.

Much to the group’s surprise, Frederik and Flint both react with understanding.

“When Kattelox and Phyleris were still at war, we would have soldiers return from the front lines with the affliction. We saw it as a mark of valor, a symbol of their sacrifice, so we always made sure to do what we could for them,” Flint explains, his expression no longer one of suspicion and anger, but of somber reflection. “I served with a few, directly. Good people, good soldiers. We make sure they are cared for, even now.”

Frederik joins in, assuring Demy, “I’m sure Felix has already eased your fears, but we will absolutely help you with accommodations so as to prevent any problematic situation. Everyone’s safety, and by extension yours, is most important.”

This seems to help diffuse the lingering tension in the air, seeing the Thorburns treating Demy with respect. Even Cashew seems to relax a little, though he does his best not to show it.

“I guess it makes sense, seeing how you took it well when you found out,” Wren muses, looking at Felix.

He shrugs and says, “I told you it would be fine.”

Felix has been quiet for much of the meeting so far, having little to add that hasn’t already been said about the trustworthiness of the group. Beyond that, however, his mind has remained fixated on the strange, unsettling, child-like monster and/or deity in his room. On the warning issued, about the ruin that awaits within the vault-like facility in the very center of the dead continent of the Heart.

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way,” Flint says suddenly, clapping his hands together. He grins a little as he finishes, “Let’s get down to business. From the sounds of it, you all have ended up headfirst into one big-ass honey pot.”

“That’s putting it mildly, but yes,” Kaz agrees.

“I think we’re all still a little worried about what’s delicious honey and what’s nasty stingy bees, though,” Wren adds.

“Wasps,” Dahlia says.

“Huh?” Wren asks.

“Wasps,” Dahlia repeats.

“No, I think it’s a good analogy, because wasps don’t make honey!” Addy says.

“Bees are integral to life. Wasps are territorial and often parasitic,” Dahlia says.

Demy growls a little in the back of his throat at the thought of Kem and the endless torrent of failures. Cashew shrugs a little and agrees, “Yeah, I can see wasps fitting better. Those things were assholes.”

Frederik clears his throat, politely drawing everyone’s attention, and says, “This is not a small matter. I would personally like to make sure that, if we are to ask such a task of all of you, that we are in agreement as to the intent of what is to come.”

Among the mutterings of agreement, Felix remains silent. The faces and tones of those around him speak of eagerness, of excitement, of adventure. At worst, from Dahlia and Frederik, there is a sense of cautious optimism.

Felix, however, feels only resignation.

And fear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Frederik and Flint listen as the group explain, in detail, the events of the expedition into the Heart. The intervention of Angelika, or “Engel,” which tried to direct the group; the attempts of Kemartirh to dissuade the group, resulting in the attack of the countless Failures; the towering Monteith cityscape, frozen in time but without a power source; and finally the GIX, an ancient facility that acts like a vault, containing unknown mysteries of the Monteith civilization.

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Once the group finish recounting their journey, the Thorburns exchange a few glances before asking their questions, respectfully withheld until now.

“So, this ‘Angelika,’ why is she tasking you to go to these facilities? What does she gain–and what do we gain?” Frederik asks, running a hand ponderously through his beard.

Addy eagerly speaks up, “So, the Monteith society was caste-based, with each individual assigned a level of importance. This ‘Clearance Level’ allowed the more important, more powerful individuals to perform various tasks and access information and certain places that those with lower levels couldn’t. Think of each facility like its own nation, and the Administrators, the highest level of clearance, were the leaders, the rulers of those places!”

“The vault, the ‘GIX,’ is set up like a magical seal. It’ll only open when the rulers of the seven facilities, the ‘Administrators’ as Addy said, gather together before it,” Wren elaborates further.

Kaz adds, “She also said that in order to provide us information about the Monteith, including… the group that tried to dissuade us from reaching the GIX, we would require higher clearance levels.”

Frederik nods in understanding, but says, “So we would gain information about the ancient civilization, as well as the secrets of these facilities, and whatever is contained within the vault itself. Yet, what does this ‘Angelika’ gain for helping us?”

“Well, she said that she is a ‘program,’ which is the same thing as CAS or CAM, functionally!” Addy says.

“Same thing as what?” Flint asks, frowning.

“Her stupid dogs. You know the ones that shoot beams and fly around,” Cashew says off-handedly.

“They’re not dogs!” Addy says cheerfully. “Programs are like personalities within Monteith technology, that are created for specific tasks! Angelika said she is a program in charge of protecting and overseeing the GIX. She mentioned that she wants its contents to be in the hands of someone who will protect it and not use it for bad reasons.”

Flint smiles at this and says, “So, she’s just some–spirit that wants whatever is in the vault to go to a good owner, huh? Sounds like we can help her with that.”

“You’re missing the major point. All of you,” Felix says, sitting with his arms crossed and a bitter look on his face.

“Are we, now? What point would that be, little brother?” Flint asks, shooting Felix an annoyed look. Everything is going fine, so of course he has to bring some kind of doom and gloom tantrum into the conversation, he thinks sourly.

“You’re just trusting what that–thing says. We don’t know if we can trust her and we don’t know what’s in that vault. It could be a prison for all we know! Maybe the Gods are trying to stop us from letting something dangerous loose!” Felix argues.

“The Gods?” Frederik echoes, perplexed.

“The entity that tried to stop us called himself Kemartirh and made reference to ‘others’ like himself, presumably the remainder of the pantheon,” Kaz explains, sounding uncomfortable. “We are uncertain what ties they actually have to the Nine Divines, if any. They could just be blasphemously using their names.”

“Or they’re connected somehow and are trying to keep us from destroying ourselves,” Felix grumbles.

“Maybe, if they’re some all-powerful deities, they could just tell us why instead of being stupidly cryptic,” Demy argues. “If it’s really a big deal, we could work together to get rid of it or make sure it stays closed or something.”

“Going straight from ‘No,’ to trying to kill us, is not very nice,” Dahlia says, agreeing.

Felix sighs in exasperation and tries, as clearly as he can, to explain his point, “It is entirely possible that there is something dangerous beyond our comprehension in that vault. That between Angelika and the ‘Gods,’ someone is trying to trick us. I agree that we should obtain the titles, but then we should leave–”

Flint waves his hand, cutting Felix off dismissively as he says, “Like hell we leave it alone! Either it’s full of goddamn treasure and it is ours, or it’s got something bad inside and we need to know what it is and be in control of it before someone else can be.”

“Yeah!” Wren says enthusiastically, pumping their fist.

Despite his inherent distrust of this group of spoiled nobles, Cashew agrees with Flint’s words. He lets out a grunt of reluctant approval.

Felix stands from his chair, gritting his teeth as he admonishes the others, “We have spent the last two thousand years killing one another based purely on geographical location! We are not faultless heroes, we are incessant children. If these ancient entities, God or not, believe that something should be left alone, who are we to challenge that? Especially when we will just use whatever it is as an excuse to kill one another, again!”

The room grows quiet. Kaz shifts uncomfortably in her seat and even Flint, who wants to argue, seems to hold his tongue for a moment.

“We cannot fear possibilities,” Frederik says amidst the quiet, his voice matching the heavy calmness that has spread over the meeting table. “Change will happen regardless, sooner or later. Someone will try to open the vault, especially if it is impossible to know what is within until we do. It is like life in that way, and like life, simply choosing to prevent it or ignore it is not an option.”

Felix chooses his words carefully, eyes locked onto his brother’s as he speaks, “We are at a time of peace, of stability, after so very long. It is not complacency, but contentment that is felt. Why should we risk all of that for no reason other than greed and curiosity?”

“Professor,” Addy says sheepishly, uncomfortable at the tone of the conversation and, as such, largely quiet up to this point. “You are privileged enough to feel content, but there are many who do not. Tarn’s Rest was full of people struggling just to survive–the same is true for people here, in Halcyon. The risk is so that everyone can be content, not just the luckiest of us.”

“And what, Professor Rhys, happens if instead we doom everyone?” Felix asks sternly.

“I’m sorry Professor, but fear of failure is no excuse for apathy. We plan for failure, but we do not fear it. Without some risk, nothing will ever improve,” Addy says.

“Professor Rhys is correct,” Frederik says, smiling. “Caution is important and we must plan for the worst, but part of life is making things better for ourselves, for others, for those that come after us. If that is a possibility, I believe it is well worth doing.”

Felix sees across the faces of those around him that there is agreement in this. He wants to yell, to argue, to throw his chair–in part because they are not wrong. The arguments are sound and the gravity, the danger, of the situation is not lost upon the combined wisdom of those seated at the table, in spite of the impulsivity also present.

Yet, he knows that this goes beyond logic. This is not a debate, a thought experiment. Regardless of what manipulation is at hand from mysterious parties, Felix is sure that the consequences of what awaits within the GIX is far beyond any benefit gained, far beyond mere good intentions and cautious planning.

It is not bitterness but cold, numb comprehension that he realizes that no logical argument will cause the wheels of fate to stop turning. He has lost this battle; his brothers will send the expedition on their journey and, even if they fail, sooner or later some fool or group of fools will succeed.

The war is not over, however.

With a heavy sigh, Felix sits back down. “Fine, what is our plan, then?” he asks, but he is only half-listening, just enough to get the specifics.

“For the good of all,” Frederik says, holding his mug up in a toast that the others move to meet.

Felix does as well.

For the good of all, he silently agrees.