kenoslogs | The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK

The situation is bleak.

The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.

And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.

“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”

Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.

And then, there is nothing.

AWAKENING

Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.

Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.

It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.

You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?

The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?

ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)

The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.

Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.

Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.

The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.

And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…

EXPLORATION

If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.

THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)

The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.

Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.

Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.

To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.

An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.

Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…

NOTES

Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
The effigy is impervious to damage.
It Is Watching You.
In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!

THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)

The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.

And then… something finally gives.

Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.

When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.

Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.

NOTES

A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
HAVE FUN!!

CODING

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[How many days had it been, since they had woken up to a dead world and an equally dead sky? Byleth wasn't quite sure. Ever since they had been compelled to wander beneath the roots of the tree, trapped within this chamber, Byleth had slowly began a spiral he struggled to pull himself out of. Hours blurred into minutes into maybe-days, and it was all he could do to keep his feet moving, as if continuously walking would help him outpace the increasingly loud voices nipping at his heels.

Byleth was not one to second-guess his decisions. He was decisive, albeit cautious, but he had dedicated himself to his quest to return home. To return home. But... was it Fódlan he wanted, or was it just Jeralt? He was just one man, Yima could fish his shard out of the Timestream and then-

But what about Shez? he aggressively reminded himself. Alois? The Claude and Dimitri of his world?

What about them? the voices purred back. Shez betrayed you once, remember? Who knows if it'll happen again. And would you really sacrifice Jeralt to maybe have your world back - world rife with war and lies, or go with the certainty of saving Jeralt?

It was an endless cycle of this, and it consumed Byleth's focus and attention to the point that he was barely aware of the going ons around him - of who was standing in the way of his increasingly agitated pacing. Case in point: he very nearly barrelled head on into Hayame, narrowly stuttering to a halt before he did so. The fact he didn't spot a towering centaur until he was practically right next to her alarmed him.]

Oh- ah. Hayame... apologies...

[To say he sounded and looked frazzled would be a gross understatement.]

[Since the Oracle had made clear the rules of engagement, Hayame had come to see nearly everyone around her not as enemy or ally... but as enemy, traitor, or potential traitor. Around her, the weak-willed were letting themselves be swayed by anyone with a silver tongue and a soothing word, and the few strong among them were yet staying their hands when they could be dolling out judgements.

It is infuriating. It is isolating. It is exhausting.]

Watch it.

[She pulls up short coming out of a side tunnel when Byleth appears in front of her, looking down at the man from her superior height (not that that was the strange part of the interaction). She might not know the mercenary well, but she associated him with a much calmer, serious state... Still, perhaps it can be explained just by the situation here beneath the tree roots. She does not know. What she does know... is what she had overheard him say last. They have not spoken about it. - She does not know how to speak about it.

So she just stands there, as if waiting for his response to her warning.]

...yes. I should be more mindful.

[By degrees, Byleth straightened up from his defeated slump and regained some level of composure. His anxiety wasn't as clearly written across his face, though his body was still as tightly coiled as a pressurised spring, and his hand moved slightly - as if to rest on the pommel of a sword no longer there. He let his hand drop when he realised.]

Thank you. [For briefly jolting him out of his funk.] I was lost in thought, and...

[He stopped, because what little he knew of Hayame - and what he had covertly observed - told him she wouldn't tolerate pointless small talk. They were passing acquaintances at most. He let the rest of his words die out into a quiet, barely there hum.

...and didn't know how to proceed from here. He was socially awkward on a good day. When stressed and sleep-deprived? The part of his brain where he had memorised inoffensive conversation prompts and generic answers wasn't firing. His mind was just blank, and it made the pause after his unfinished sentence kind of. awkward.]

[And… ?

Hayame stands there for longer than most people would just waiting for Byleth to finish what he was saying. The silence stretches out between them, and that in and of itself is just fine. Having been raised in a stable where the only thing her master required of his jinba was “yes”, “I apologize”, or “I will see it done”, she is accustomed to being silent (and waiting on humans to speak). This time, though…

It is too long. Even she begins to feel awkward. She could just leave, she should just leave but-]

I had been meaning to compliment you.

[She will not thank him but.]

You displayed more sense than most during that information sharing session in communion.

[Byleth had honestly expected Hayame to simply walk away or scold him for his social failure. It was what usually happened whenever he stumbled this poorly in conversation. People got weirded out or annoyed. He was braced for it. Instead, she had waited the silence out before taking initiative and... uh. Complimented him?

Byleth's expression didn't shift out of its perpetual blankness, but there was an intense. confused air around him. baffled. genuinely had no idea what she was even talking about. That info-share felt like it had happened eons ago.]

I...did?

[What had he spoken about? Dark insulting his cooking, wishing Hayame luck, the Slave Disco- oh.]

Oh. You mean the argument with... Vornee? Verno?

[...]

Vickie...? I can't recall their name.

[There is a moment when Hayame almost laughs. Almost. Amos had told her how infuriated Voryn had been being called by the wrong name, the man himself had made such a great deal of how the demon Sebastian respected his name and that was what made him worth fraternizing with...

So-]

It's Vern Dagoth.

[Perhaps it was petty of her, to perpetuate the false name Amos had coined, but she does not care. It does not matter anyway, she is trying to say-]

- But, yes. That is what I mean.

[The Slavery Discourse™.]

Ah, Vern. Of course. That's it...

[Mission succeeded, Hayame.

But regarding the Slavery Discourse™... Byleth did recall that no one had really... said anything during it, which was what prompted him to, perhaps unwisely, wade into the fray and succeed only in frustrating himself. Likely no one had wanted to get involved in a fraught topic, but even he understood that averting your gaze could be considered silent approval or apathy towards the act. Vern had even invited it, proudly proclaiming his slaver status for all and sundry, as if expecting it to be overlooked because he was charismatic and clever with his words.

Hayame had been a lone, furious and ineloquent voice in comparison, and Byleth had always been fatally empathetic.]

Hm. I'm glad my intervention was appreciated, though I'm sorry I wasn't eloquent enough to properly challenge Vern's views. Debate is not my strong suit, especially on topics I feel strongly about.

[Looking back, Byleth was a little embarrassed at how clumsily he had crashed into that argument... and flat out amazed Vern had gone full mask off and proclaimed his perceived superiority for everyone to hear. He wanted to study that man's brain, like how you would some weird, alien bug you found under a slimy rock somewhere.]

[Good.]

You are not the one who needs to be sorry.

[Technically, she knows he is probably just saying "sorry" to be polite in some way, but she still refuses it, simply and quickly.]

There is nothing to debate with that churl. He will never change his bigotry.

[Despite how often, in recent weeks, she has found herself in conflict with that man... it had never been debate. She had never entertained the idea that she could convince the Chimer of anything... what she had thought she could do was expose him, find herself justified when others condemned him-

But they hadn't. Not the first time, not the second time, and only upon the third, finally-]

But at least you see him with clear eyes. You are not like the others.

[The ones she felt betrayed by, in this faction full of false allies she had been told repeatedly she was supposed to be trusting and embracing. Those who, like ignorant children, were swayed so easily by fancy words or an exotic interest.]

Despite the tempestuous nature of our faction, I've noticed some tend to shy away from open confrontation during Communion. Likely due to the powerful emotions involved.

[Byleth himself might not have intervened if he hadn't chanced to actually pay attention to what was being said. Communion was discomforting for him, but for once Vern's theatrics had ensnared Byleth's puzzled curiosity long enough to actually understand what the heated discussion was about - as he'd been ready to ignore it, thinking it typical horn-locking between two strong personalities.]

But that isn't an excuse to allow such views to go unchecked. There comes a point when silence edges into complicity. While it's true Vern may not indulge in the practice at Kenos, the fact his views of the practice and his supposed inherent superiority remain unchanged is troubling. It indicates a lack of self-reflection and humility.

[Two cardinal sins of a mercenary, in Byleth's humble opinion.]

I don't understand how others could overlook it... it confuses me.

There are cowards among us.

[That is all she can say about those people, that he says so diplomatically tend to shy away from confrontation. To Hayame, they were simply too scared to risk a fight or too weak-willed to form an opinion... but either one was damnable. Especially if it meant that time and again she was left the only voice arguing for reason. She fought viciously alone against the ridiculous idea that Aeteos' hideout be repurposed, she fought desperately against the idea that a slaver should be trusted as Meridian's voice, and she-

She was so tired of it. To her, the silence was damning. And to that elf thing, the silence was only confirmation of what he had bragged in implication to her- that no one in Meridian would take her side against him no matter what he felt about her race and countless others. That a silver tongue and a honeyed smile would win against even righteousness every time.

He says he is confused, though, and Hayame wishes she could say the same. She can't, though. She had thought Meridian was supposed to be different, with all the Tribune and the rest spoke highly about hope and protecting life, but-]

Humans have always found a way to overlook such things if they can justify it being done to someone else. It does not surprise me that other races in other worlds do the exact same.

[If her voice sounds dark with experience... well, there was a reason she took specific issue with Voryn.]

[Byleth couldn't help but think about the dark mages from his world, who spat "beast" at the people of Fódlan. He thought about how the people of Fódlan used almost the same words and tone for the Almyrans, or Dagdans, or those from Sreng and Brigid. He thought about Sothis's sheer, towering fury upon realising what those 'Heroes Relics' were, and how the noble houses gained their Crests - the bones and hearts of her children repurposed into weapons, with their existence wiped out from history.

("The Relics are gifts from the Goddess," the politely smiling priest had told him, oblivious to the 'Goddess's disgusted rage thrumming through Byleth's being. "It is assumed that in those ancient times, she blessed weapons bound by animal bone and sinew and-"

"Animals," Sothis had hissed. "Animals?!")

Regrettably, Hayame was right.]

...yes. I can... see that.

[Despite verbally agreeing, however, Byleth sounded incredibly downcast by it. A part of him was just tired thinking about it, the endless cycle of prejudice and dehumanising that others used to suppress those thought beneath them.]

I'm not truly surprised, though. I'm more than aware of the lengths humans go to to dehumanise their enemies or rivals. It makes sense that other sapient races would indulge in the same vice for their own ambitions.

[There are those who would find it perverse to take contentment from what is essentially bad mouthing a member of one's same faction. But Hayame is has so little to content herself with, and she takes it where she can. Those she had thought (hoped) would come to... not her defense, because she did not need defending, but those she thought would profess support, who would condemn the man who maligned her so...

Where were those people when she had expected (wanted for) them? They had been nowhere.]

There is little more that needs be said upon it.

[This mercenary had been there. But Hayame has no experience in thanking people- not truly thanking, anyway. She knows how to do formal manners, but this is not... Her hooves shuffle awkwardly amongst the roots, her lips pursed and her posture stiff.]

I merely wished to draw attention to the fact that you have proper sense.

[Byleth peered up at her. He was not very familiar with Hayame, though he knew Claude was close to her in some fashion, but he knew when to recognise discomfort in others. She was stiff-backed and awkward, and she couldn't quite hide the audible scrape of her hooves shifting restlessly amongst the roots. It was like a thunderbolt, then, why Hayame approached him, the purpose of this sort-of conversation - it wasn't just about the Slavery Discourse.

She was trying to thank him without actually thanking him. A strangely common occurrence amongst mercenaries, so Byleth rolled with it immediately. For someone as proud as Hayame, even saying this much probably hadn't been easy for her.]

I see. Thank you, Hayame. I appreciate it.

[Byleth was not held back by pride, and his social awkwardness didn't make him hesitate either. He was always earnest when trying to express himself, no matter how clumsily, and he even managed to muster a... sort of smile? Byleth's facial expressions were always so subtle, but the corners of his mouth were upturned into a very small, yet genuine, smile. It made him look far softer than his otherwise stony expression conveyed.]

It was kind of you to point it out to me and... I hope you'll find others that may have the 'proper sense' as well. Those willing to speak it, at least.

[... He's smiling, for some reason. It's an expression that Hayame herself has long forgotten how to make, and even if she could remember... she fears it would not even look right upon her face. It changes his, though, in a strange way. He'd seemed almost emotionless, steady and low, when they had spoken before, but...]

... Hmmph.

[She doesn't smile when he thanks her, and she looks vaguely uncomfortable with the compliment, even though she'd been the one to bring up the topic in the first place.]

I am not kind.

[As if he had simply made a mistake in judgement, and she needed to correct him, for his own good. But as to finding others... her lips twist into a look of displeasure, tinged with anger to cover something else.]

Our so-called allies have already made things clear to me with their silence. I will not forget those unwilling to condemn that degenerate.

[Those who'd had the gall to call themselves her friend. Those she had thought would take her side. Even Claude, who had intervened... had only done so to encourage harmony in their "team", refusing to defend her or take a side. (Not that she needed defending, and yet-)

... Disappointing. But she should have known better than to even think it would go differently. She was the only jinba amidst a crop of, if not humans, then humanoids. Of course most of them would stick together.]

[Byleth's gentle smile is fleeting, as all of his expressions are. His face slowly blanked into its usual heavy-lidded, bland expression, passively neutral compared to Hayame's open condemnation of their allies.

He understood her perspective. She was a lone voice, and the others said nothing. Claude had said nothing, which startled him. He would've thought his friend would've been more proactive in challenging such views, but instead he had only intervened to stop Byleth from escalating the argument. He hadn't questioned him on it, though, but belatedly he realised Hayame may've seen it as a private betrayal.]

...I assume you include Claude amongst those unwilling to condemn him.

[Hayame did not pry into the lives of others as a general rule- mainly because she did not like people pestering her with inane questions in turn. She is not aware of the exact nature of their relationship, because of this, but she at least had garnered that the two of them knew each other. That they were apparently from the same world. The fact that he asked, though-]

Am I wrong?

[She raises her chin as if daring him to say she was.]

Or did I miss him telling that slaver that words from the mouth of someone so despicable were not worth the air they use up?

No, you didn't. Claude didn't condemn him.

[Byleth didn't miss a beat in replying - honestly at that.]

I admit, I'm surprised he didn't. But I'm not Claude, and I genuinely don't know him that well, despite his proclamation of friendship. I can't begin to guess his thoughts.

[The Claude from his world was simply the leader of the Leicester Alliance. Byleth had never met him. This Claude knew him as a close friend and confidant, as someone who knew how to express themselves and who had grown into a real person - but in reality Byleth had barely grown at all. From their conversations, though, Byleth thought Claude was a staunch supporter for people to grasp their freedom and determine their own fate - considering how uneasy he had been when the topic of Sothis's possession had been brought up.

But at the end of the day, Byleth didn't know Claude very well. He only saw that which Claude wanted to show him, and the few times Byleth tried to dig deeper, Claude obfuscated and diverted the topic. Perhaps Claude's thoughts of equality only extended to those who were human, or human enough. Byleth didn't know, and he doubted Claude would ever tell him straight.]

[No, he didn't.

Because Hayame had expected him to. She had thought he would, because for some reason that man had seemed so intent on convincing her that he was her ally, even her "friend"... but she cannot help but see what he had done as proof that he was not.]

Perhaps he uses the term "friend" far too easily.

[How could she not see his silence as a betrayal? He wanted to cooperate with that man? He told him he was grateful for his honesty? Hayame's lip curls back into a sneer of disgust because disgust is easier than admitting she was hurt- even if it might be somewhat obvious how Meridian's silence on this issue -on almost every issue she's made the effort to raise- made her feel.]

Perhaps, but...

[Byleth mulled over his next words, unsure on how to properly phrase it. He wasn't the best with social etiquette, this was true, but he prided himself on his keen observation - you didn't need to know the ins and outs of the unspoken rules of social interaction to decipher if someone was an immediate threat, a slow-burning threat, or trustworthy enough that they won't stab you in the back the second you show your flank. The only time Byleth had ever misjudged someone had been with Shez, but even that had been... an outlier.

And while Claude was an enigma to him, Byleth felt like he had him pegged pretty well too. It was a contradictory claim, but he felt the need to both explain his actions and maybe commiserate with Hayame.]

I think he believes he's genuine when he claims friendship. I don't sense any deceit from him on that front. But he's too afraid to properly meet you halfway, so the friendship feels a little too one-sided at times. He wants to know everything about you and your troubles, but will never share any of his own. I don't think he realises that this makes it difficult to fully trust him and his intentions.

[Or perhaps Claude did, and continued to be a squirrelly little bastard anyway. Byleth stood by his blunt assessment either way - actually, it was kind of nice to get this off his chest, because it had been frustrating him, yet he never had an outlet to state it to anyone who knew Claude like him. There was Dimitri, of course, but... he might tell Claude what he told him, and also:]

He's a noble, so obviously he'll convolute everything unnecessarily. It's what they do. And... pondering it, being a noble actually explains why he may've been offensively neutral regarding Vern...

[It is slightly difficult to see when Hayame raises an eyebrow in doubt at what someone else says when much of the left side of her face is covered with a leather eyepatch, but she does it anyway, as if she continues to forget (no, deny) that she is missing that ocular organ.]

Then that is not a friendship.

[She pretends, likewise, that she understands what it is to be a friend- something she has never had and never pursued. The closest Hayame had ever known was hearing the occasional ballad or epic tale of warriors who were brothers in arms, because there was no room for weaknesses such as that in the breeding stable she had been raised in, but in the stories... they were equal, were they not? "Friends".

And it was true that despite how much he'd seemed to try and know about her... No, there had been that moment in the stables when he had hinted at something, but beyond that... he was all smiles and jokes, not what she would call honesty. (Not that she could talk... but she wasn't the one trying to claim people as friends.)

What he reveals so casually, though...]

- a noble.

[She repeats it to herself disdainfully, her lips pursing thin. She knew what nobles were like. The men who showed up for Exhibition and Auction Day, lounging as others hurried around to tend to their every whim, simpering and subservient. The ones who used the Armless behind the stables to "sample" what they might purchase. The ones who leered and ran their hands over her body to inspect her teeth, her hooves, her accursed womanhood.

It explained his silver tongue, but-]

Of course he is a noble.

[Her thin lips curl into a sneer, her poor opinion of such people (the people she had been raised all her life to eventually serve) grown obvious.]

Something he conveniently forgot to mention. But perhaps you are right. Men of such means do so enjoy each other's company.

[And she is offended enough by his silence to spitefully entertain the belief that such a bond might mean that Claude felt some sort of kinship with the foul elf she now called Vern.]

[Was it friendship? Wasn't it? Byleth wasn't sure. Claude's friendly overtures, gifts and sympathy was certainly the closest Byleth had to it outside of Jeralt's gruff affection and his intense and complicated rivalry with Shez. Yet, now that he was pondering it, with Hayame's succinct judgement on the issue, could he truly call it friendship when it was one-sided?

If he didn't truly know Claude, or understand him or even felt connected to him beyond the superficial...

Byleth wasn't sure, and he didn't know how to ask Claude without potentially offending him. The simple fact was as much as their relationship frustrated him, he didn't want to lose it either. This closest thing he had to 'friendship' here in Kenos, even at the edge of existence where their lifespans were probably measured in days at most, he didn't want to say or do the wrong thing and lose it. Byleth was fearless in battle, but in matters of the heart, he was fragile.

So, he let that topic slide by the wayside, fixating instead on the disdain that spread across Hayame's expression at the word 'noble'. Byleth understood. Nobles were a diverse breed, and many of them venomous. Even with the buffer of Jeralt who mostly handled their job acquisition, Byleth understood that many nobles were selfish and backstabbing, high on their superiority due to bloodlines and Crests. They were, in Jeralt's ever wise words: self-cannibalising weasels. It drew a strong mental image - and a strong emotional response.

But Claude wasn't just a noble, and he wasn't selfish or greedy like most of them. He moved to try and clear up the potential misunderstanding he may've caused.]

I don't think Claude harbours any empathy or kinship with Vern. I meant it more that... considering his position as the leader of Leicester - a nation in Fódlan - he's used to managing conflict within his ranks using diplomacy. Unlike kings or emperors, his rule is far more susceptible to the currents amongst the other nobility. He has to make concessions to keep otherwise odious allies on his side, rather than against him. I believe that was his intention with Vern... he's part of Meridian, and thus likely felt he cannot be harshly reprimanded in case this caused damaging conflict within the faction as a whole.

[Byleth ducked his head slightly.]

...however, this is just a theory. I am a simple mercenary, so I can't claim full knowledge on how the courts of the ruling elite function. It, of course, doesn't excuse Claude's... behaviour in certain aspects, but it may explain things.

[If she knew this Jeralt person, Hayame might agree with his opinions on certain things very much. Self-cannibalizing weasels would seem appropriate enough. As much as she had once dreamed within the confines of her realistic fate that a general of honor and renown would purchase her... no, perhaps because she had once thought such things-

Her distaste for them is strong. The things she had long overlooked and born as her lot in life have become things she actually has the freedom to express distaste over. And Claude-

- Was what now? Hayame does a double take when she registers that Byleth had just implied (er, said) that Claude wasn't just a noble, but the leader of a nation? Was she hearing things? She must be. What leader of that caliber would not proudly proclaim it? Especially since Claude had been involved in more than one debate in which claiming such lineage or rank would have lent weight and experience to his position. So-]

No, it does not excuse it.

[That's the bottom line. That's what matters to her.]

At least you realize the limits of a mercenary's knowledge.

[The line is not spiteful, but it is sharp, even though, in her own way, it is almost supposed to be praise. She appreciates people who understand their capabilities. And she doesn't want to listen to Byleth defend Claude much more than she wants to listen to half her so-called allies defend Voryn Dagoth. Still... she had engaged him to thank him, and so she belatedly attempts to... soften it.]

I assume you are a good one?

[... That'll do it.]

It depends on what you mean by 'good'.

[Byleth obligingly let the topic of 'Claude' drop, understanding Hayame's lack of will to discuss it further. Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to continue gossiping about his... possible friend either. He felt curiously guilty about it, like he was doing something bad. Was it allowed to whisper behind a friend's back? Byleth wasn't sure.]

If you mean by skill and success rate, then yes, I am 'good'. I've rarely been defeated in battle, and I fulfil my contractual obligations to the letter. I don't disobey my orders.

['To a fault,' Jeralt would sigh. 'Kid, sometimes you gotta be imaginative with your mission objectives.' But Byleth never fully understood what his father meant with this. Jeralt was the one who decided what their mission truly was anyway, so Byleth didn't really think too deeply about it... something which was biting him now, since he was on his own in a strange, incomprehensible world...

Well, it's going to end soon anyway, an increasingly pessimistic side of him said, so it's not like it's going to be an issue to care about in the near future.]

But I'm also widely feared by my peers. While this can be an advantage, it gets tiresome when most would rather flee than engage with me. Most assume things of me that aren't true, as my reputation paints me as something monstrous. From that perspective, that doesn't make me 'good'.

[And it was lonely too, but he wasn't so far gone that he would admit that to a near stranger.]

[Unlike "friends"... this is the sort of conversation that Hayame understands much more clearly. Since she was old enough to curl her fingers around a bow handle, since she had understand that most jinba mares were fated for the breeding post or life as an Armless mount, she had dedicated herself to becoming a warrior. She understood the hunt, how to fight, how to win, and everything else...

(Everything else...)]

What else could I mean for the measure of a mercenary?

[Skill and success rate, obedience... that was simply what one measured both mercenaries and warriors by. Though she viewed mercenaries as inherently lesser for their lack of honor in favor of coin, unlike the fantasy of serving a lord she had imagined for herself... there was no denying that the similarity was there.

He says he had been feared... but Hayame, someone who had never possessed her own power, who had never been free and could only dream of it... couldn't see the power that came with fear as anything but "good". Life was lonely. For someone like her, unable to reach out, it would surely always be lonely, so why not be feared as well? He speaks of reputation, and-]

You are incredibly strong for a human.

[She'd learned that in Alenroux. She'd acknowledge it.]

But that is a good thing.

[Because to not be strong was to be nothing.]

I suppose. Strength means security and freedom, if you know not to become too strong that you draw unwanted attention.

[That was the fine balance he had needed to walk - to become powerful enough that job security was never an issue, but not so strong that they were deemed as a threat needing to be exterminated - or worse, to draw the eye of the Church. Rhea was someone to be avoided at all costs, and even allying with the Kingdom Forces had been cutting it too fine for Jeralt. Byleth had to do the equivalent of diving into bushes whenever he saw Church uniforms at the encampment...]

Or be dehumanised...

[Ashen Demon, he was called. Coldhearted, unfeeling, monstrous. He had never understood the accusations. He struggled to express himself, but there was nothing unfeeling about him. But perhaps, he wondered, perhaps some animal instinct in them realised there was something wrong with him, that understood he was not like them. Humans would be prey to the likes of Sothis - they could probably sense it in him too, however subconsciously.]

Not that I was very human to begin with. As I told you in Alenroux, I'm only half-human at most.

The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

EXPLORATION

NOTES

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HAYAME [CLOSED]

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cws: sa, slavery, forced amputations

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