When Celina expresses her intention to talk with Corwin Vere takes the opportunity to return to the Chapel of Our Lady of the Isles to investigate the ghost. He will leave word of where he is in case he is needed, and will take along two strong workmen with tools to do the actual work.
Vere and his workmen arrive at the chapel, and he can look around it. It is the kind of small chapel that would previously have been attached to a noble's home. It's not big enough for a convent's religious uses, but there are definite uses for a publicly available chapel in a convent school.
Not long after Vere arrives, The Chancellor comes to the back door and greets him. Her legendary lack of warmth is in full force.
"Prince Vere, what a pleasant surprise that you have visited us again. Shall I send word to your sister that you are here, or perhaps you want to speak to Hartwell?"
"Neither is necessary, Chancellor," Vere replies. "When I spoke with my sister earlier I mentioned a ghost who is present in the chapel, and she gave me permission to investigate."
He will head to the chapel, motioning the workmen to follow. As he walks he says, "I do have a message to pass on to her, if you would be so kind. The monks that she was negotiating with have been declared enemies of the state, and their possessions confiscated. Those holdings should be available for sale soon, and I have used what influence I have to put in a good word for her."
The Spider nods, as if she expected as much. "Their regrettable choices may indeed lead us to opportunity. I'll ask your sister to send a note to Lord William.
"We would appreciate your settling any ghosts and reporting on any masonry we may need to repair when we take full possession of the chapel. I would not want to rededicate it if there were restless spirits about."
She enters the chapel and heads to the altar to pay her respects to The Lady.
"Will you be long?" She says after her duties are done. "I should tell the chaplin if you intend to take over her chapel for an extended period."
While the Chancellor is at the altar Vere walks to the spot where the talkative ghost previously stood to see if he is still there. He kneels and taps the slab to be lifted, examining it for any signs that indicate how long it has been since it was last removed.
When the Chancellor returns he replies, "I do not think this should take too long, although one can never be certain."
"Very well, your highness, I will leave you to your spiritual tasks." She bows and departs.
The slab has not been moved recently, as there is dust in the cracks that has not been swept out. The workmen should be able to move it with their tools. Or Vere could move it with their tools.
"Lift this one, please," Vere tells the workmen. "Carefully, so as to disturb whatever is beneath it as little as possible." He stands back, watching as they remove the slab, and also watching and listening for any sign that the spirit or spirits in the chapel are manifesting.
The workmen are skilled at their job, but not particularly quiet or reverent. In short order, the slab is leaning against the wall of the chapel. In the middle of the place where it was installed, is a hole into the darkness below.
It's not a regular crypt entrance; there's no way to easily move a corpse here, much less a coffin. It's dark below, but what Vere can see looks like a passage. Perhaps it's a priest-hole or else it's someone's getaway tunnel.
"Not what I expected," Vere says aloud. He considers for a moment, then shrugs, and tells the workmen. "Wait here." He takes a lantern from one of the wall niches in the chapel and lets himself down into the passage below, and examines both directions.
Vere notes marks along the wall, as if to let someone know how far they had gotten in the dark. This passage is relatively shallow, unlike the catacombs of Paris, but it's deeper than a root cellar. It runs parallel to the river, in both directions. One direction runs under the convent.
This was likely constructed in phases. It may well have been a priest hole and also a getaway tunnel.
It doesn't look like it’s been used recently, except by rats.
To be thorough Vere checks the floor of the passage to be certain that no one is buried there. Assuming there are no signs of such a burial, he follows the passage towards the convent.
The floor in the passage is bereft of signs of burials, either recent or ancient. Likewise the walls are free from the kinds of niches normally associated with catacombs. Vere can see openings further along in both directions, if he wishes to keep searching.
The tunnel runs below the graveyard, but it is deep enough that it should not undermine any of the graves. Vere finds odd markings along the ceiling indicating when there is a grave above, but it may be natural discoloration of the packed earth.
Vere doesn't find any tunnels going up, but he does find what looks like a boarded up door. It shows no sign of having been opened in many many years.
The tunnel continues, arching away from the convent and towards the palace.
Vere stops and examines the door. How difficult would it be to remove the boards and open it? Assuming it a simple matter for an Amberite, and if he sees no signs of any kind of wires or other potential traps, he will do so.
It is an ordinary door. It is nominally a bar to passage to whatever is beyond it, but Vere could enter in a matter of minutes. Less time if he borrowed the workmen’s tools (or the workmen) from above.
However he chooses to do so, Vere makes rapid work of opening the door. He sees a number of withered root vegetables haning to dry, neatly stacked storage boxes of what at one time were probably non-perishable foods, and an overwhelming musty smell. If he moves the items that had been piled in from of the door, he could enter a small cellar. It is under the convent's kitchen, and it looks as if there is a stairs going up at the far end.
There's a body at the base of the stairs. Vere can't tell from here who it is.
His luck isn't good enough for it to be The Spider.
Leaving a body without investigating it is against Vere's nature. He moves the boxes blocking the door and enters the cellar. Once inside he takes a moment to examine his surroundings for anything out of place in a convent's cellar, then kneels down and examines the body.
This cellar may not have been entered into for a long period of time. The boxes are fragile and have writing that looks somehow archaic, although Vere can't say what about it gives him that impression.
The body at the bottom of the stairs is, under a fragile cloak, a skeleton. The clothes, or at least the cloak, reminds Vere of the ghost's attire back at the chapel.
He either fell down the stairs or was pushed. Either way he died of a broken neck.
Vere kneels by the body and searches it carefully, looking for any clues as to identity. He also tries to determine if the body actually fell down these stairs, or if death occurred somewhere else and the body was moved here to make it seem that he died here.
It's not really a body so much as a skeleton. Vere doesn't see anything that looks like a recent wound that can be ascribed to falling. Some old injuries, like a broken leg that healed, but nothing like a staved in skull.
"Finally," says a voice behind him.
If Vere looks, he sees a shadowy, perhaps translucent figure in the dim light.
Vere stands and turns to face the shadowy figure. "Greetings," he says with a nod of the head. "Might I ask your name? And how you came to be here?"
"I am Heber, Prince of Lorraine. I was. I didn't get away, apparently. I assume you're here to bury me?"
Vere nods, but doesn't actually answer the question. "Tell me your story, Prince Heber, if you would. I am Vere, Prince of the Isles, nephew of the King of Paris."
The ghost looks around, re-familiarizing himself with the cellar. "Not much to tell. I was fleeing a mob who were sacking our home. At least they didn't find my body." He looks it over. "Did Paris rebuild, after the sack? And what of Lorraine?"
Vere puts on a sympathetic expression. "It has been long indeed, Heber, since your time. Paris is rebuilt and glorious, but the sack you speak of is no longer remembered. Can you tell me of it, and of the King of your time?"
The ghost looks through Vere in the same way Vere looks through the ghost. "There were Kings, of course, but no Emperor since Charlemagne ruled. I fear the empire could not survive his death, as none of my uncles could stand to let another be superior to them. The empire was already splintering when I was killed. I should've have been King of Lower Lorraine, but I assume my cousin took my throne."
Vere looks from Heber's spirit to his body. "Did you fall, and die here of a simple accident, Prince Heber?"
Heber shrugs, or shrugs as much as a bodiless spirit can shrug. "I can't say. I was being pursued by a mob that intended to kill me. If they reached me, they'd've pushed me. If they reached the door, then shoving on it could've bumped me off-balance. Or I could've been in a hurry and the floor slick with blood."
He pauses. "Let's assume the latter. It's how I'd wish to have gone, untouched by my enemies."
Vere nods. "You shall be given a proper burial, Prince Heber, and I shall inform the King of Paris of your name and rank. Could you tell me of the Fall of Paris that you speak of? It is ancient history to me, and I would know more of it."
Heber looks as if he wants a cigarette and a bottle of something strong. "How do you describe the end of a golden age? That had passed, into a time of war, but we maintained Paris for the return of the King, or his sons. But Roland was betrayed at Roncevalles and no one had heard from Galant in many years.
"It was the norsemen, of course. They took the city and sacked it, because they had no fear of any king but Carl the Magnificent, and truly we were diminished. I had sent my family to Lorrangaria for safety, and to maintain our estates, and returned with forces to defend the empire. They took the city and I lost my life here.
"It's good to know the raiders could not hold the city."
"Indeed, the city is eternal," Vere says with a smile. Casually, he adds, "The oldest ones I have spoken with who might have any knowledge of these things were Lady Laudine of Lothian, Countess of Landuc, and Morgne, Princess and Lady of the Lake. Do you know aught of them?"
"It's good that you met them, although not if they are ghosts as well." He paces, not noticing particularly when he walks through his own corpse. "Sir Esclados the Red, a distant cousin of mine, was married to the Countess." He smiles, "it was a scandal, but in the county, where both were popular."
Vere hears a creaking sound, and spots a rat running towards the entrance he came in by. There aren't any sounds from above.
"She had been set to guard the border with the Fae," Vere says, watching the rat and trying to locate the source of the sound. "It was a plan of the sorceress Basina, as I understand it."
He looks displeased. "Things must have been desperate if she was taking counsel from sorceresses."
Vere thinks the sound is unrelated to the rat. It's probably at the top of the stairs, but it's heavily muffled.
There certainly would be someone minding the fires and tending the bread overnight, in the kitchen above.
Vere glances up at the top of the stairs. Then he looks back at Heber. "Howsoever it came to pass, the plan seems to have worked in keeping the peace. Although it did trap her for a long time. Have you a message for her?"
He looks up with a faraway look. "Never die, my friend, or at least do not let your conciousness survive the event. You never want to find how much of your best qualities and personal attachments are tied to your flesh and bones. The dead have nothing to say to the living that is not a deception."
Vere smiles slightly. "How honest of you," he says. He gives a slight bow. "I shall ask the king to have your body interred with due solemnity and honour. Rest well."
The ghost bows, and walks through a wall.
Vere walks up the stairs and examines the door. If it is unbarred, or barred only on this side, he will open it and walk through. If it is barred on the other side he knocks loudly.
The door opens inwards, which seems very awkward with the stairs, but there's a small landing.
It's clear that the door has been plastered into the doorframe. Vere doesn't recall seeing a door here when he was in the kitchen before. It would have been behind the stoves.
It's warm to the touch.
Vere walks back down to the storage room and finds a hammer and chisel, then begins work on removing the plaster holding the door closed. He assumes the noise will alert whoever is in the kitchen, which with any luck means that by the time he has the door open someone in authority will have been notified and will be waiting to see what is going on.
Once the plaster has been removed he opens the door.
The door pulls open under Vere's insistent tugging, although he suspects the hinges will need to be replaced before the door is usable normally as a door. Vere is staring past the backplate of the great stoves where he saw the nuns making bread overnight on his previous visit. The smiling face of Chancellor Vianis is visible staring back at him over the stovetop.
There are a half-dozen girls and priestesses here, including the old priestess who watches the bread overnight. They all look wary. At least one has picked up a ladle in self-defense.
Perhaps The Spider isn't actually smiling. "Ah, Prince Vere. How interesting to find you here behind our ovens. Do you need us to move them? They are rather heavy for our young girls, but we could find some tradesmen if you need help getting out of... wherever you’ve found yourself."
"Chancellor." Vere acknowledges her with a slight bow of the head. "There is an old storage area back here that I thought you might like to know about. Not so much for the area itself as for the dead prince of ancient days who lies within, and the access to tunnels beneath. I have promised the prince a funeral with honours to recompense him for the ages he has lain without recognition." He considers the stoves for a moment, then continues. "I shall return via the chapel, and perhaps you could send some priestesses via that same route to recover his body, with all due respect. While I suspect the door was originally sealed to hide the fate of Prince Heber, it would be a shame to destroy such fine ovens."
The Chancellor nods. "As you wish, my Lord. You do find yourself in the most unusual circumstances." She turns to a priestess. "Sister Immaculate, find the undertaker and his men and meet Prince Vere at the bottom of the hole he has left in our chapel, if you would."
She looks back at Vere past the large ovens. "I suspect it was walled up long before these ovens existed, but our bread making sisters will be pleased your courtesy, my Lord."
She turns back to Vere. "We will need whatever particulars you have on the deceased to arrange his interment.”
Vere nods. "He is Heber, Prince of Lorraine, and a distant cousin by marriage to Lady Laudine of Lothian, Countess of Landuc, recently returned to Paris. We shall want to delay his ceremonies until she and King Corwin have been notified, so that they may make what arrangements they wish. But removing the body to a more dignified and fitting place than a forgotten cellar would be proper."
"Facinating. So Lady Laudine may be able to tell us something of the Paris before King Corwin." She looks at Vere, "we will lay him in state in the chapel, until he can be buried. Whatever he stood for in life, The Lady offers succor and rest to all beyond life. I do not envy your your gift, Prince Vere. It would be quite a burden to try to apply the Goddess' will for those who are dead as well as those who are not yet dead."
He nods once more, and retraces his steps to the tunnel beneath the chapel.
Vere meets the Priestess at the bottom of the hole, and gives her directions to the body. He then leaps out of the hole and briefly checks to see if there are still ghosts haunting the chapel, or if they have been put to rest.
He'll take the workmen with him and leave the chapel, returning to the Louvre. Once there he will find out if Corwin is available, and if not will report to Corwin's counsellors on Prince Heber's body, his relation with Lady Laudine, and the need for a state funeral of some kind for an ancient noble of Paris.
After that he will get some much needed sleep, waking in the morning to break his fast, bathe, and enter the new thread.
Celina eats a double-size meal and takes a bottle of wine and fish with her to the Paris dungeons where Bend is held.
If Flora has moved Bend, Celina will make every effort to locate Bend again from what the jailers know.
Bend has been removed to an oubliette in the underfortresses, one carefully not connected to the catacombs under the city. It's dank and wet and not in a way that a Rebman would find pleasant. It's cold rather than cool, with none of the benefits of living in the water.
They drag her up from the oubliette; she is wet, her hair is stringy, she needs a bath. Her clothing is rough and insufficient to keep her warm. She hasn't been in there long enough to starve, yet, but she's probably hungry. Florimel, if she has indeed taken charge of Bend, has softened her up for Celina.
"Well," Bend says as they stand in the hallway, surrounded by the guards, "what do you want of me now, Celina?" Her tone is only a little bitter.
Celina hides how prickly she feels that Bend uses this familiar tone in front of these guards.
Celina turns to the lead guard, "The prisoner and I will have a bath. The prison's commander has a private tub, I assume? Take us there now."
Celina passes the wine bottle to Bend while staring at the guard. Her look promises that this is above his pay grade and he should want his commander to tell the Queen differently.
More like, this is the King's daughter and it's probably above his boss' paygrade too. "Yes, Your Hi--Majesty," the guard says.
Bend takes a swig from the bottle as the guard leads them into his grandboss' private quarters. The tub is porcelain clawfoot and big enough for two, but not by much. The water is piped in but the guards will have to heat it. They start warming a kettle on the guard's stove.
Bend remains silent; she's still waiting for an answer to her question.
As Celina disrobes, she measures the guards. Using their reactions to her nudity to get a feel for how loyal they are; how well trained; how likely they are to talk about whatever happens in this room outside the questions from a King.
The question is whether they'll tell Florimel, one might think, and Celina is not clear on that answer. They look loyal and close-mouthed but the question is whose coin stills their tongues.
Celina looks around and gathers the brushes, sponges, and bath salts that seem most interesting, "Bend, ultimately I want you out of here and back in Rebma. Right now, it would be rude to take you out from under Aunt Florimel's eye. She's been decent to me. She wants to know more about Moire. She expects you'll have to tell her."
Celina moves to the guards doing hot water detail. "No, not like that. We bathe in different temperatures than you people do. Here let me do it. You stop just before it thinks to steam." Celina transfers the water to the tub, "Like so." She lets them continue.
Celina recenters on Bend, she points to her Paris clothes on the floor with a nod, "I can get you something to wear that's practical. From you, I want a meeting with my mother. You cannot go do that. So how do we go about you aiding me?"
"Do you think your mother wants to talk to you?" Bend asks coolly.
"Why should her wants matter to you or me? I am acting on the needs of Rebma. Moire moves only to her wants." Celina shows her puzzlement. "Are you saying you aren't interested in preserving Rebma? From our previous talk, I was sure you were seeing a bigger picture than my mother's vision."
Celina adds, "The bath is still a good idea. But if you ask me to leave I will." Celina leans on the tub edge focused on Bend.
Bend shrugs. "If you wish me harm, I cannot be more vulnerable than I am now, so I will join you."
She drops her prison garb and steps into the water. Celina sees a number of scars presumably earned in the service of the crown, as Bend clearly intended her to see. She lowers herself into the water so that just her head is above it. "It’s too bad these aren’t the waters of home. Air is so strange to breathe."
Celina simply agrees with longing.
"Your mother will assume any overture is a trap and that I am compromised. If you wish a meeting with her, you need to determine some reason she would want it." She dips her hair back to wet it.
"There, I hope you can see how I am being a faithful advisor. I have told you what is wrong with your plan."
Celina offers the mildest soaps and hair combs to Bend and steps into the bath. She pointedly ignores the guards even as her TaKhi takes in the motions of the room.
For a while there is peace and water.
Celina mutters to Bend, "Thank you. Any overture? Say if Corwin offered to discuss marriage?"
Bend laughs, but it is not unkind or even particularly bitter. "She would never believe the overture. Corwin does not need a Queen, and with you on the throne of Rebma, you would not serve as a tie. And when I say Corwin does not need a Queen, I mean that his sister fulfills many of the roles as a female model for his kingdom, and he has other women to warm his bed. What you and I think of as a female role is not in Corwin's playbook." Her tone about Florimel is less resentful than before, but still carries some of her resentment.
"Your mother might want the safety Corwin represents, but I think she would find it too dangerous."
Celina nods, setting soap aside, "Thus my predicament, Moire's fear of personal danger claws into every Rebman future. She fled the city for personal safety, everything else has continued the theme.
"Bend, you asked what I want from you. Ask instead what Rebma needs from you. I think your insight already tells you Moire is damaging the Realm. I'm here and willing to stand in for you in taking action. Rebma needs the throne's treasures returned."
"Is there an imminent crisis?" Bend asks sharply. "Is it whatever Huon did?"
Celina holds Bend's questions for a breath. "The city is dying. Queen Moire fled. Huon's hand revealed the crisis Moire was concealing. My answer is not for any outside this conversation. You are a patriot that has been used. I ask you not repeat what I have said. I hope to stabilize the crisis and see things set right. Moire putting herself in a safer place has doubled the dangers for Rebma."
Bend sighs. "After the interregnum, Moire was the only person who was able to hold the throne. All the others who tried, failed. What path do you walk down that you are sure you can hold the throne? You have succeeded in one test, but it's the first step. And I do not know what the others are," she admits.
Celina intuits that there are things Bend is not saying because of the company, specifically the guards.
Celina hopes Bend is equally sure there are things the Queen will not say. But she may be surprised.
"Few know what the steps are. No one knows if I will survive the path. That is the point, it's hard. But I'll tell you two things that no one besides me knows. I've spoken to Moire's mother. I've also spoken to the Queen who may follow me. That tells me I'm walking the right path."
Bend lends in and whispers, "You have talked to Moins?" Celina intuits from her tone that she both finds this incredible and does not think it impossible.
"She was prickly," whispers Celina tightly. Then she splashes about a bit as cover for whatever reaction Bend shares.
Bend stills for a moment, her reaction hidden from the guards by the splashing noise and steam. "My mother said as much," she finally allows. "Your mother has one half of the Jewel. Mera's get has the other. Find them both and unite them and you will have what you need to become the true Queen."
Celina laughs as if Bend has whispered something witty.
Shortly then Celina gets out of the tub wringing her hair out with her hands. She eyes the guards as if she had forgotten they were there and regrets letting them stay.
Celina puts on a fluffy robe and combs out her hair with a thousand strokes. While still at this she sends the most attentive guard out for a plain shift of clothes that will fit Bend. "Something new and clean. See to it."
The guard Celina selects nods and moves on.
Celina takes a hand mirror from the dressing table and using a finger she writes a gleaming wet refraction of words there. Checks her hair with the mirror and hands it to Bend.
How do I find Mera's blood? Paris?
Bend combs through her blonde-grey hair with her fingers, looking at her reflection, and then writes in the mirror steam: SHADOW.
Celina wipes the mirror by dint of fluffy robe sleeve as she moves into Bend's space and embraces her. "Remind my Family of me when things look grim. You shall see Rebma some day. I have people to see before I sleep in Rebma again. I leave you now to sooner return."
Celina then runs a finger over the mirror and has the glass forget the last hours.
Celina doesn't leave until she's sure Bend is safely back in clothes/cell.
Misao rises with the sun, and after their morning routine, they send a page to Celina, asking for an audience and offering to prepare tea.
Celina sends the page back by way of Alice and Mastery of the kitchens to see if Celina can count on a staff delivery of lunch after a tea break. Celina doesn't know if this is a big meeting or a long quest.
The page then arrives back to Misao with good news: tea, yes, at the 11th hour of morning.
When Misao arrives, the door is open. The room smells of the sea.
Misao enters, carefully carrying a long, narrow, wooden box and is followed by a page carrying a portable brazier. They bow when they see Celina.
"Good morning, Serena-jooo. I hope you are well today. Where may I set the brazier?"
Celina steps to a zodiacal round carpet and describes the brazier size with a wave of both hands. She smiles at the page. "Good morning Cousin Misao. I am quite well. Tea usually comes on a cart in Paris. This is very interesting."
Misao nods to the indicated spot, addressing the page. "Please put it there. Thank you."
Celina wears a green neck-to-floor robe of seven layers of shimmer. The gown flows around her like water. Her hair is down and unattended.
Misao appears as they did the last time Celina saw them, as a young woman with pale skin and silver eyes, in a black robe.
As the page sets the brazier to rug, Celina eyes the long box. She waves the page out and with a hand gesture asks the page to close the door.
"Have you met your family?"
Misao places the box on what seems to be the most appropriate table. They light the brazier, fill a kettle with water, and place it on the brazier to heat, before returning to the table. They smile at Celina.
"Yes, I did, thank you."
Misao slides open the top of the box, which becomes an elegant tray. They gracefully unpack the other items, which they display and explain to Celina. Before long, a steaming cup of green liquid is ceremoniously presented to the Queen on the tray, with a small dish of sweets next to it. After serving Celina tea, Misao kneels gracefully before the Queen. It is apparent to Celina that this is not an obeisance, but merely Misao's normal way of sitting.
Celina floats down and sits the floor amidst her robe.
"Serena-jooo, I apologize for intruding myself upon you. I hope you will forgive my impertinence in being so direct, but, knowing that you were at hand, I felt it wiser to address matters sooner rather than later. I learned from Soracu-dono that my father's killer is from your realm and I wish to place myself at your service, should you choose to accept me, in some way that might bring some resolution and closure in the matter of his death."
Celina carefully sets the tea down.
"Your father was a mystery I did not know well. What have they told you of his death and apparent killer?"
"I was told that Moaru-jooo killed him because he tried to make a Trump of her without her permission."
Celina nods. "Yes, evidence suggests so. There were no witnesses. I was part of the investigation of the crime scene. And I say 'suggests' because we are an unusual family with strange talents. If someone wanted to implicate Moire they did a good job. It would be argued in Rebma, not by me, that it was self defense."
Misao takes a deep breath. "I understand. So, what is your will in this matter and how may I assist you?"
Celina picks up the cup and smells the tea. She sips silently for a few minutes. She comforts the warm cup in her palms and looks directly at Misao. "The matter of your father's death is dear to my Aunt Florimel. She is very invested. If you wanted to see things brought quickly to a resolution I would suggest you could learn a tremendous amount about all the Cities of Order and Family from Florimel's patronage."
Celina's green gaze is as warm as the tea. She continues, "What of my will in the matter is... complicated by Moire putting Rebma in danger for her own reasons. I must stand against any set of dangers to my City. I want to find Moire and question her before Aunt Florimel decides to kill her. Yet I do not wish Florimel as an enemy. Likewise I do understand you have agency in how this all turns out."
"There are things that come to mind in you helping me. Maybe I'll think of new things with your help. You are an unknown that might loosen and solve riddles. You change substance and form which seems chaotic but may be Order. You could work in Paris with Florimel and alert me if Moire is found before actions are taken that cannot be undone."
Celina smiles slowly, "What do you need? Who do you trust? When are you ready to share yourself with being remade? King Random will want to bind you to Family values. There are a lot of questions you should ask."
Misao nods. "Thank you for your wisdom, Serena-jooo. You are correct; I need to ask questions. But in order to do that, I need to know what questions to ask. I think... it may be a common frustration for people who are new to the Family, to not know what they need to know in order to ask what they should know."
Celina smiles and nods.
Misao takes a deep breath. "As for me, I need to find some resolution for Otoo-san's death. For myself and my mother. For Soracu-dono and Obaa-san. For my siblings. I need to know the truth of how and why he died and to make sure that justice is done... whatever form that ends up taking.
"As for who I trust? All my life I have been taught to serve and respect the forces that order the world against the chaos that makes worlds impossible. As I understand things, Tenno Heika is the source and wellspring of that Order. Therefore, I must trust him. As I require your permission to deal with matters so integral to your realm, I must also trust you.
"I am more than willing to work as your agent in this matter, alongside Obaa-san, although, of course, I cannot guarantee that I will succeed in preventing her from taking Moaru-jooo's life should she choose that path. I can only promise you that I will try my best to fulfill the mission that you choose to give me."
Misao takes another deep breath.
"So, Serena-jooo, do you feel that you can trust me, in this?"
"You are..." Celina sighs, "We both are so young. Cut loose of the warm Order that raised us. I like your Impertinence, Misao. Do you plan to walk the Pattern? Do you know it kills horribly if you cannot hold yourself True Family? There is a Pattern in each healthy City of Order. Paris. Xanadu. Avalon. Rebma. I do not recommend you try Paris or Avalon."
Misao blinks. "I did not intend impertinence, but yes, I do intend to walk the Pattern as soon as may be. I... feel very strongly about my kidnapping and I do not wish to be vulnerable to a repeat attempt. Whether I will survive the ordeal... I do not know, but I am willing to take the risk."
Celina nods. "Then I may have misunderstood. You called on me to forgive your directness. I like it. You remind me of...several someones who were often direct with me. Let me be direct as well. I can trust you once you are of the future of making things better. Since the Rebma Pattern has an affinity for women of risk, I offer you that walk with my blessing. If you survive, we will work together to our combined goals. How does that sound?"
Misao bows formally from the waist, placing their hands on the floor and lowering their forehead to the backs of their hands, before resuming their previous kneeling posture.
"Domo arigatoo gozaimashita, Serena-jooo. Thank you very much for the opportunity, and I humbly accept it. If I survive the attempt, I will hold myself available at your pleasure."
Celina watches the physicality as if drinking Misao's culture is sating a thirst. "Events have a way of interrupting our needs. I don't know when we can return to Rebma. Moire has stealthed around Paris too long already. But I'll give you the blessing ritual now. You should wait until I can be there with you."
Misao nods. "I understand."
Celina looks paler now.
Celina sets aside her tea. She gets up and relocates smoothly to Misao, dropping again to sit knees to knees with her. "In my lands, we touch to establish trust. I'm going to kiss you on your third eye that you may see what you need as you meet the Pattern. It is my dearest wish you succeed. May Lir guide you also."
Misao nods again.
Celina leans in like a spring breeze, she gently touches Misao's neck with both hands' fingers. Then comes the Queen's kiss right above Misao's brows.
The kiss holds truth and equal measure of affection and dread.
Misao blinks at the sensation. "Thank you," is all they say.
Celina nods. She floats back to her feet and returns to her former seat. "Perhaps as time allows both of us, I can learn more about your language, your youth. My own upbringing was tame."
Misao's posture relaxes a bit. "I would like that very much, Serena-jooo."
There is a pause, and then they add, "Actually, if you are intending to utilize my... yokai nature, shall we say... it might be a good idea for me to tell you something of it at this time."
Taking a deep breath, Misao begins, "Hikariguni is the land of kami and yokai, what you would call gods and ghosts. Kami, like my mother, are the powerful forces of Order and define what Hikariguni is. Yokai, like myself, are more chaotic, but not necessarily evil, and many are shapeshifters, as I am.
“My mother, Kimiko-dono, rules Hikariguni and has designated me as her heir. Therefore, she decided a long time ago to send me to study under the other great kami of Hikariguni and to spend time with various of the types of yokai so that I could learn from them. This form that I am currently using is my normal form, but I have developed four other forms that I am familiar enough with to use under conditions of stress. I can also take other forms, but they do not come as quickly or easily, may not appear as accurate, and do not last as long.
"I am willing to demonstrate my forms and explain them to you, now, if you wish."
Celina listens attentively, when she responds she speaks carefully choosing her words, "What I hear of interest is your mother is a goddess of Order and intends you will be her Heir. That suggests to me you are not all yokai but some new balance. I am very intrigued by your shaping skills and agree to a small demonstration. But consider I do not utilize your path. You are the artist of your skills. I ask you to advise me, help my court, support my defense of Order, perhaps even swear to the Sapphire Throne someday."
Misao nods. "That will be for the future."
They stand gracefully and move back from Celina. As they do so, their robes shift from a formal mourning kimono to the loose white outfit Celina may remember from their first encounter... only this one is clean and unripped. Celina may well note that it seems designed for wearing during combat. Then Misao shifts shape, their garment changing with them to accommodate the new form.
The first form is the same one Celina saw earlier. Short, stocky, muscular, with red shiny skin, Misao now has a fringe of dark mane running from their head around their neck, horns jutting above fiery golden eyes, and clawed hands and feet. Their voice is very deep, almost a growl, when they speak.
"This form is the form of the oni. As yokai, they can be malicious but at least are not shapeshifters. The form is strong and powerful, with great endurance."
Misao pauses to give Celina time to absorb this form, before the next shift.
Celina rises and more closely examines the shiny red skin. She peers into Misao's eyes. She nods once. "You don't really wear things. They are extensions of you, like hair and nails."
Misao nods, "My mother expects decorum and propriety. That would be difficult for me to maintain if my robes did not shift to accommodate my various forms. I have never seen it in any other, though, so as far as I know, it is unique to me."
Misao shifts again. Now they appear to be a large, bipedal fox, with, unusually, nine tails, covered with golden fur and tipped with white. This form is taller and more slender than the oni. Misao's eyes are now dark red. Their voice is more nasal, and somehow the accents are ingratiating.
"This is the form of the kitsune. They are fox spirits, very mischievous and shapeshifters in their own right. Clever, agile, and with supernaturally good sight and hearing."
"Kitsune," Celina fixes the new word in her mind. She restrains herself from testing the textures of that amazing fur. "In the seas, this would be like an octopus spirit, extremely clever and agile."
Misao nods, and transforms again. As they do so, they begin to float off of the floor. The final form appears to be a large dog with wings and sickle claws, with many sharp spines growing out of its back. Their voice deepens slightly, and they speak in short bursts, almost like barks.
"This is the form of the kamaitachi. They congregate in packs, and move suddenly and unpredictably. As you can see, they have very good defense as well as very good attack, as well as being able to fly. However, they are creatures more of instinct than intellect and can be outwitted."
"Your home is combative, dangerous. I wonder the lessons in fending for yourself that you've learned. I may be jealous," says Celina. But she smiles.
"My home is unpredictable, certainly. But I spent much time learning forms that would be useful in combat during the period of the Kurogawa, when Hikariguni was beset on all sides. Before, and after, it is a land of much beauty, and mostly peaceful. My mother would not have it any other way."
"Then you are a war veteran?" Celina asks quietly.
Misao shifts for the fourth time, settling back to the floor as they do so. This form is much taller and slimmer than the others, covered in dark blue-black scales, with a small, flat head, showing small ears and dark eyes that shine like mirrors. Misao also now has webbed feet, tipped with short claws, and a tail. Their voice is high pitched, and chirpy.
"This is the form of the hoonengyo. They live in the river waters and are the most agile of the forms I can easily take. They are shy creatures, but loyal once you have earned their trust."
Celina nods. "Is there a story behind these choices or were you mentored and apprenticed to the yokai?"
Misao nods. "My mother wished me to know as much about Hikariguni as possible, so she sent me to various groups of yokai -- at least the most common and numerous groups -- to spend time, as well as to the other kami of Hikariguni, who also introduced me to some that I had not previously met."
Misao shifts into their default state and changes their robes back to the mourning kimono they arrived in.
"I should mention that I can also shift into the form of a wani, but as these yokai are large, slow, and oceanic, I don't consider them as a combat form. I learned this form to spend time with my friend Umibana, who is of the wani."
Misao settles back down on their knees and waits for Celina's orders.
Celina enjoys the poise and quiet of her cousin's visit for a moment. She again offers, choosing words slowly and using crisp enunciation, "If you believe you'll only be safe after you walk a Pattern, then you should seek advice and instruction from a senior member of the family, perhaps Florimel or Llewella. If you can abide without a Pattern investment, then I'll be returning from shadow after some weeks. Do you have a preference?"
Misao considers, also taking the time to choose their words carefully.
"I... believe that I would be of best use after walking the Pattern. I should be honored to receive instruction from Obaa-san or Luera-ohime. My preference... would be to establish a good relationship with my grandmother, but given what you have said, I don't know that she will be available or interested in teaching me at this point. Would it be... an imposition if I were to ask you to... introduce me to either, or indeed, another senior member of the family... whoever might be available and willing to undertake my instruction?"
Celina smiles, "If none are available at this time I shall do it myself. But let us follow your instinct. The honor of your trust in Aunt Florimel should please her. And she may have words with you over which Pattern has advantage to you. In which case I suggest you set aside my shared thoughts and follow hers. I shall Trump my Aunt Llewella as well, in case my tasks here and in shadow run longer than I wish. She will look after you if you go to Rebma in my absence. Aunt Florimel will also have a Trump of Llewella, so as to make a safer task of reaching Rebma.
"You may tell Florimel we've had this lovely conversation and that I blessed your access to Rebma's Pattern."
Celina adds, "My mother ruled Rebma for centuries. She's hard and slippery. If you do catch up with Moire, I think your grandmother will be very pleased. But please be extra careful."
Misao nods. "I will, Serena-jooo. I look forward to seeing you again. Be well until then. Thank you."
They stand, and bow deeply, before making sure the brazier is cool. Calling back the page, Misao has him carry it back to their room, following with the box.
Celina pulls Llewella from her Trumps and calls to summarize the Misao Family connections to Florimel, the delightful quiet of Misao, and her many yokai shapes.
Celina fills in that Misao has agreed to help find Moire, with Florimel if that is how it goes. Misao may be arriving with Flora to walk the Rebma Pattern, with Celina's blessing.
Celina includes the nuances of the conversation answering all Llewella's questions about Misao that she can.
Celina hopes that if Florimel does not instruct Misao in walking that Llewella shall.
Then Celina will mention that Mera has living offspring according to Bend. Celina will be headed into shadow to see if she can compass to these lost royals.
Any questions from Llewella?
Llewella would like proof, other than Bend's fevered storytelling, that Mera has living offspring. She'd be more likely to believe that Lir had fathered children from the dead than that Mera's line was not extinct.
Celina agrees that it is just likely a story except for how many very real Family are being found now. If it is a diversion to get Celina away from finding Moire, at least there is Misao to add some bite to tracking her mother in Celina's absence. Are there any statues or art of Mera? What did she look like?
Llewella seems nonplussed at the idea of another shapeshifter in the family, but doesn't doubt that Lucas could have sired one. She will certainly grant her access to the pattern chamber, as the Queen's decision on the matter. But she wonders if it might not be less trouble to let Random take care of the newcomers, at least until they proved themselves a bit more. He seems to enjoy it.
Celina agrees again. Yet it seems well to be owed a consideration by someone seriously dedicated to getting hands on Moire, yes?
As is her wont, Lllewella does not argue her positions once she has stated them. She may even believe that she actually follows that rule.
She serves at the pleasure of the Queen.
And can Llewella provide description of Mera's look and temperament to aid a search for heirs?
It's been a long time, but she can have someone find a statue or painting in storage and have it sent to Celina.
Last modified: 23 October 2022