Snippet #1696047

Though her visage did not change during the course of Caelin’s and Garbiel’s evidence, she had to admit a certain level of satisfaction that she had such reliable allies. Most of her life had been spent learning that to rely on other people was unwise at best but at times a necessary evil. The fact that she was slowly unlearning the same thing (though not without bumps and obstacles here and there) was not only simply odd to her but pleasing as well. She was well-aware of her own weaknesses, or at least most of them, and gratified that there were those with strengths in such places that voluntarily stood with her in this.

Rather than watching the witnesses be deposed, she chose to observe the faces of the members of Parliament as they gave their testimony. This, at least, she could do better than most. She watched even the most resolute faces flicker with touches of doubt here and there, and the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach eased slightly. It was not a victory, not yet, but it was the start she required, that they required.

When Ironarm mentioned Gilgamesh’s illegal purchases, something inscrutable flickered across her face and she wordlessly signaled to Carlisle, who was standing stoically beside the door, serving for the most part as a kind of bailiff, albeit at a considerable distance from the actual proceedings. The hand-sign was prearranged and unobtrusive, and the man exited very discretely, without discernible sound. Resisting the urge to tap her well-manicured fingernails against the wood of her table like some ill-mannered chit, she instead balled her hand into a loose fist in her lap, covering it with the other one and waiting for the clamor to die down in the wake of the smiths’ proclamations. Eventually it did, and she stood to face the Magister, who regarded her with a neutral sort of expression. “Is there any further evidence the Crown wishes to bring before Duke Gilgamesh makes his rebuttal?”

Unconsciously smoothing the fabric of her gown, as close to a nervous gesture as the Princess would ever come, she nodded slowly and took a steadying breath. Please don’t let this be a mistake. Who she was entreating, she wasn’t really sure. “The Crown calls Seth Gilgamesh to testify.” There was a collective stir, of course, but she remained standing rail-straight, staring right ahead at some point just over the Magister’s left ear. Even he hadn’t quite been able to hide his surprise, but he ordered for silence as the redheaded man approached the witness chair and took it.

“You may proceed,” the magister indicated, unable to avoid sounding a trifle skeptical. Loki spared a single glance at Caelin and Garbiel, asking them (mostly the former) to trust her as far as they were able. Things were about to get a bit dicey here, mostly for her.

“Lord Gilgamesh, can you please explain for the benefit of the court why, exactly, you are here?” The man looked at his father, who was visibly seething, though at this point probably unsure of what was actually going on (it was, after all, within her purview to call whomever she desired, whether they liked it or not). That was going to be clarified as quickly as possible.

“I am here because, most simply, there are a certain number of truths that need to come to light, and I can no longer ignore my moral responsibilities to ensure that they do.”

“And what information is it that you wish to present?” Loki’s voice was carefully-kept; there was going to be a point in the very near future where she didn’t like the answer he was going to give, but she’d agreed to his terms because she- they, as she had reminded herself- needed the information only he could give.

“I, as the custodian of my father’s documents and his estate, have come across information which incriminates him in a number of crimes. Only recently did I discover the full extent of them, because only recently did I decide to stop ignoring what was right in front of me. I’ve read his personal ledgers, you understand, and I know the contents of them, which I have also brought.” Reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a sheaf of parchments and placed them delicately before himself.

There was a pause, but Loki was in the end no coward, even as vital as it was to protect her position. “And how is it, Lord Gilgamesh, that you were first led to believe that you should even be reading these documents?”

“My family’s estate was burgled recently. I had a confrontation with the responsible party, and the answers I received to my questions, as well as the other things I observed and gathered of the encounter, led me to believe that I was missing something too important for me to ignore.”

“Do you, Lord Gilgamesh, know the identity of the perpetrator or perpetrators?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Who was responsible?”

“You were, your highness.”

There was an immediate uproar from the other side of the room, and Gilgamesh rose, clearly feeling victorious. “I knew it! I knew it was you! Magister, I demand that the princess be arrested at once!”

Loki gritted her teeth, listening to the clamor get louder and louder as the Magister tried to call for order. She’d known it would be bad, but she hadn’t quite counted on it being this bad. Still, Seth had asked that he be allowed to tell the truth in its entirety, and with one caveat, she’d agreed.

The Magister’s gavel banged ineffectually on the bench, and she seethed. Parliament seriously needed to rethink its priorities. It was only when someone said that she’d gone wrong as soon as she joined up with Caelin’s campaign for magi rights that she snapped. “Silence, you fools!” she shouted, and for once, they listened. Her fingers flexed, subconsciously desiring the knives strapped to her calves. “Magister, I admit to the crime I am accused of and will gladly sit my own trial for it- after this one has concluded. I think we can all agree that petty theft does not carry the same magnitude as the crimes of which Duke Gilgamesh is accused, and the proceedings of this trial demand that both sides be presented to their fullest degree, something of which only I am capable due to the very circumstances that incriminate me.”

Cold logic may not have been galvanizing, but the Magister at least recognized the truth of what she was saying, and spoke gravely. “While it speaks ill of your character and the Crown that you have done such a thing as you claim, I cannot ignore the necessity of your words. Proceed, with the understanding that your arrest will immediately follow the verdict in this trial.”

With that, attention gradually shifted back to the matters at hand. Seth shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but he was pinned under the gazes of all present, if not entirely skewered by his father’s. Duke Gilgamesh looked more than a little on-edge, a fact that no small number of his colleagues were taking notice of. For someone usually so in control of his circumstances, the fact that this was happening at all was quite the shock, to say nothing of his openly hostile reaction to it.

Seth nodded. “I knew already that my father was purchasing large quantities of slaves, but also that none of these people were ever showing up at the estate. Upon further investigation, I discovered a map that led to holding cells underneath our estate, but all of these were empty. I dare not venture further through the sewers, so instead I consulted my father’s copies of our trade ledgers. Not only did I discover the same thing as the smiths, but something I almost couldn’t believe at first. Next to the numbers of people purchased was a notation for a geographic location, as well as what appeared to be an indication of task. Several of these were marked ‘labor,’ but even more have the words ‘sacrifice’ next to them.” He paused for a moment, visibly shaken and seemingly hesitant to continue, but started up again on his own volition before Loki could prompt him.

“On the back of the pages, the words lux adventum are written. Having something of an interest in pre-Elisian languages, I was able to roughly translate this as ‘the light comes’ though the grammar isn’t quite correct. Further research linked this phrase with the words ‘sacrifice’ and ‘mage’ as well as an odd symbol- an ellipsis and several triangles in a circle.”

And now for the big question, the one even Loki did not know the answer to, as his research had been incomplete when they’d brokered this little deal of theirs. “What, if anything, does all of that actually mean?”

Seth stared down at his hands for a long moment. “Lux adventum is an old Elisian cult, your highness. It was founded almost immediately after the death of the prophetess Elisia, based on the premise that she is in fact not deceased, merely waiting to be reborn. The cult held that the presence of magi in the city is somehow blocking this and that a mass sacrifice of mages over a period of time, complete with one final bloodbath, would successfully resurrect her. It’s… it was just a fundamentalist group from a few hundred years ago. There was no evidence to support any of their conclusions, but…” He didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence, and frankly, she couldn’t blame him.

“And so it is your hypothesis that your father, moved by cult leanings and a hatred of magi, intends to attempt to use their deaths as catalyst for the resurrection of Elisia?” She was quite certain she’d never heard anything so ridiculous and sickening in her lifetime, and frankly, she’d be surprised if she were alone in this. She did not notice the elder Gilgamesh stirring behind her, and as the audience was by and large riveted on Seth, neither did they.

“In a word, y- look out!” On instinct, Loki ducked, in just enough time to avoid the whistle of the blade once concealed in the Duke’s cane.

Apparently, this was a signal for something, because doors on both ends of the room opened then, admitting a contingent of soldiers dressed in the livery of the Prime Minister’s house. Gilgamesh, half-mad and seemingly intent on nothing less than ending her life, swung again, but she was ready this time and blocked with one of her own twin weapons. “Kill them all!” he shouted at the incoming soldiers.

Apparently, he was hiding more madness than I thought.

---

The Nexus, Rooftop

At Loki’s earlier signal, Carlisle had departed the hall and ducked outside, scaling the walls of the building with a practiced sort of efficiency. It wasn’t exactly graceful anymore, as he had not endured age with the same ease as Amon had, but he was far from an old man yet, and protecting the lass trying to help save the world in there (with help from some very adroit companions, he might add) was a full-time job for more than one person.

His well-made gloves kept his hands from freezing, but h was still relieved when he reached the precipice he was looking for. A look of mild surprise crossed his face when he noted that he was not alone, but he recognized the other man immediately, scarf or no. “She’s none too pleased with you,” he commented idly, regaining his breath with just a few seconds’ idling. “Me though… I know that guard-dogging never leaves the system as easy as we’d like.” With a shrug that informed the younger assassin that he didn’t have to comment if he didn’t want to, Carlisle began circling the ledge, placing his feet carefully, peering out at the horizon.

“Ah, yes, that’s them, I suspect.” He frowned slightly. “More than we thought.” From this elevation and the angle he was standing at, he could just make out a regiment of men in red and gold, and shook his head. “Damn; we didn’t keep quite enough back to deal with that…” A good portion of the Palace Guard were still there, with strict instructions to look after Minerva, and most of the rest had been sent to try and assist the assassins in breaking up the fight that was probably going to ensue with the magi. They were only backup, of course, but all the same he didn’t much fancy making the call to divert them back here. It would take too long anyway.

Drawing the black cloak from about his shoulders, Carlisle knelt at one side of the building and draped it there, a signal for the reserve troops that they were, in fact, going to be dealing with an attack. Hopefully they’d arrive in time- an audible clamor erupted below them, and the old assassin grimaced. “Told her to save that bit for the end,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“Right, well, don’t mind me saying so, but if you’re here, I’m guessing you’re here to help. If that’s the case, you may as well help me get the drop on these ones. Realistically, they’re going to break into the building before ours get here, so we might as well use the chaos to do what we do best, hm? Unless you had something else in mind?” Carlisle eyed the briefcase speculatively.

---

District Gamma-Sewers

The strike Zade aimed for the man’s side connected painfully, leaving him collapsed on the floor with a deep cut in his lower abdomen. Only when he connected with the ground did he engage his last-ditch effort to do his job- pulling a dart-blower from his belt, he exhaled forcefully, propelling the poisoned dart right for the bomb specialist.

Amon, having finished with the last of the others, was distracted by an influx of yet more reinforcements, this time numbering at least ten, and did not see the dart, though in truth he would have been too far away to do anything about it anyway. Instead, he and the other remaining assassin, a man named Durwald, closed in back-to-back and tried to stave off as many of the newcomers as possible. There was no way it would work completely, but hopefully it would keep things at a manageable level for Victoria and Scheherazade to protect the engineer.

---

Some distance away, another group of assassins dropped the fourth bomber group, and the explosive was successfully disarmed. Elsewhere, the bombs the second and third groups had left behind were also defused.

The fifth set of saboteurs was down to two people, but they left both a fully-fused timer bomb and a dead squad of assassins in their wake. Groups six and seven had yet to move into position, though neither had yet encountered opposition either.

---

District Gamma, Aboveground

Several crossbow bolts bounced ineffectually off Pandora’s erected shield, drawing Azazel’s attention. His eyes snapped to the little mage-woman, and though his lips drew back in a sneer, he did not make to attack. If she was going to help him, then so be it- he had bigger things to worry about right now, such as the speed at which his men were falling under the onslaught. Though they were powerful magicians, they were not trained soldiers, by and large, which meant that they were neither armed nor taught to deal with people who were. For every soldier who fell to pure arcane might, another mage died by the work of years at blade-practice and drill.

Still, they were not outnumbered, and it looked as though they’d win at great cost- until the first spell guttered out mid-cast, the magical fire burning the middle-aged woman who’d conjured it. “Cecily?” Aram called “What the hell is wrong with y-?” his question was killed before completion by the look of sheer terror and loss in her expression. She looked at her burnt hands, strangely silent for the excruciating pain she must be in, and it was then that Aram saw the depressed syringe protruding from her arm.

“They have The Cure! Don’t let them near you with those needles!” Aram shouted, an unmistakable edge of panic and fury to his tone that spurred his followers to hurl their magical missiles all the harder. “You see what they would do to us? Take from us everything we are! Everything that sets us apart, because it frightens them! They fear us! I say enough! It’s time we give them something to fear!” This statement was punctuated with a lightning-constructed javelin, which baked two unfortunate soldiers in their clothes.

I will not give up. I will not surrender. They may take my life, but they will not have my dignity.