Scarlett was back in her office, seated in her chair. Empress lounged on the desk before her, tail flicking idly. Opposite sat The Gentleman, a distinct furrow creasing his brow.

"I am disappointed in you," he said after a while.

Empress turned her head towards him, unblinking.

"Will you bear the responsibility for this?" he asked.

The cat meowed once.

The Gentleman shook his head. "Yet it isn't yours to carry."

Empress rose, padded across the desk, and settled by the edge near Thainnith's Array Forge, as if deliberately ignoring him.

He sighed and shifted his gaze to Scarlett.

She met his dull brown eyes.

"Who is Aurelian?" she asked. "Why does The Other use that name?"

The Gentleman was silent for several seconds. "…Did he give you something?"

"He did. But I want you to answer the question first."

"I am afraid there's little to answer. The Other may be unlike the beings of this world—and infinitely more consequential—but it abides by rules of its own. One is in how it presents itself. You might say 'Aurelian' is one of its masks."

"Is it a separate entity?"

"Only The Other could say. I am not as familiar with Aurelian."

Scarlett frowned. "…But you did not want me meeting him."

"The Other wagers, Baroness." The Gentleman brushed a hand along the rim of his top hat where it rested on the desk. "That much is constant, regardless of the mask it wears. Your entanglement with The Other has long been decided, and the nature of that bond will not change now. But interaction with its other faces cannot be guaranteed the same stability. Simply meeting Aurelian will have altered things, regardless of your intent or restraint. In ways no one can yet name. Empress was irresponsible to introduce you."

Scarlett pressed her lips together, mulling that over. "…How many masks does it have?"

He gave a faint shake of his head. "I do not know. And I will not introduce you to any others."

"Do you believe them to be that dangerous?"

"No. But they can be."

She studied him, then reached into her [Pouch of Holding]. She drew out the dove-grey linen book and laid it on the desk.

His eyes went to the cover. "'The Kept Hours'. Is that what he gave you?"

"Yes."

"Was there a wager?"

"There was. Do you think it reckless?"

"Possibly. The Other does not wager without purpose. But the shape and peril of that purpose are always difficult to discern."

"It was a wager of relevance," Scarlett said. "He claimed this book would prove useful to me within three months. If I judge otherwise—or simply refuse to concede—I win and may issue one demand. If I lose, he gains nothing but the satisfaction of being right and 'the tale of the wager well told'."

The Gentleman's expression shifted, thoughtful. His fingers lingered on his hat. "…You are very likely to win that wager."

"I thought so as well."

"Then you understand he may want you to win."

"I assumed as much."

"But you may not grasp what that entails."

"Then explain it."

He regarded her. "…First, do not assume The Other's schemes for you align with Aurelian's, even if they intersect. Second, ask yourself why there is a time limit, and what manner of demand you could make. Petty bargains and lies are not The Other's way — but do not expect Aurelian to offer the same assurances. Lastly…be wary of what you choose."

Scarlett inclined her head. "I will." She rested her hand on the book. "And this? Anything more you can tell me?"

"It is no ordinary volume."

"I would have been more surprised if it were." She lifted it slightly, speaking louder. "Slate. Can you tell me anything about this book?"

From the corner, the girl's sharp gaze fixed on the grey cover. "A book," she said categorically. "Paper enclosed in cover. A container of words. Words as records. Records as appointments."

Scarlett raised a brow at that last part, but it wasn't much to go on. Though that wasn't unexpected. As powerful as the Tribute could be, she was still of this world. Things from outside it might be too far removed for her to grasp.

Scarlett set the book back on the desk and pointed at The Gentleman. "Then can you tell me what he is?"

His eyebrows lifted.

Slate turned her attention to him. Silence stretched before she frowned. "…No."

"Thank you, Slate."

The Gentleman eyed Scarlett. "Was that truly necessary?"

"No. But I was curious whether it would work."

"I see."

Scarlett glanced at Empress. For a moment, she'd considered asking Slate about the cat as well, but that felt…unwise. Empress was clearly on her side for now, and it'd be best not to do anything to jeopardise that.

The feline raised her head, met Scarlett's eyes, offered a short meow, then curled down again, tail looping partway around the Array Forge.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"I had meant to ask," The Gentleman said, nodding at the cube. "Was that something Thainnith left behind for you?"

"It was."

He studied it in silence. "…It is nice to see that he had the opportunity to leave something of himself this time."

Scarlett watched him. "Was he your friend?"

The Gentleman looked back at her. "A friend? No. I would not necessarily call us that."

"But you did aid him, no? Both in constructing Beld Thylelion, and with the Anomalous One."

"What I did can scarcely be called aid." Briefly, a sombre expression crossed his features. "…As you know, Baroness, there is very little I can sincerely claim to have helped anyone with."

"…Yes. I suppose so."

A quiet settled before The Gentleman reached for his hat and set it atop his head. "I will take my leave. Once again, you have my deepest appreciation for what you did. As I said, it will not be forgotten. And I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours — and in your wager."

His gaze lingered on Empress. "…And you, dear, will have to be prepared for what this may bring."

The cat rose smoothly, stepping to the edge of the desk and dropping to the floor in one effortless bound. Her feet clicked faintly against the boards as she padded towards the door.

The Gentleman picked up his cane and tipped his hat to Scarlett. "Farewell, Baroness."

"Farewell."

He strode to the exit. Empress waited at the open doorway. The cat looked back once at Scarlett, gave a final sharp meow, and slipped out. The Gentleman followed. The door shut softly behind them, leaving the office steeped in quiet.

A minute passed.

"Do you have any questions?" Scarlett finally asked, turning to Slate.

The homunculus considered her, then shook her head. "No."

"…We will reach that point eventually," Scarlett said.

She turned back to the grey book, eyeing it for a long moment before setting it on the corner of the desk. Her gaze flicked to the Array Forge, but she dismissed the impulse to examine it further now. She was too tired tonight. That could wait. For now, she needed rest. Even if she doubted sleep would come easily.

She just needed to distract herself with nothing for a while.

In the spirit of idling, she pulled a small stack of documents closer. They were reports and papers Lady Withersworth and Evelyne had left. She skimmed them without much care, just enough to keep her thoughts from circling.

A knock at the door broke her rhythm.

Scarlett looked up, mildly surprised — then her eyes widened as she checked through the Loci who was waiting outside.

"…Come in," she said.

The door opened. Rosa stepped inside.

Scarlett pushed the documents aside. "I…did not expect you to be awake already."

The woman looked absolutely spent, with dark shadows under her eyes and her skin far paler than usual. She'd changed into a simple blouse and dark skirt, with a thick woollen shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the chill.

Rosa stood by the entrance, saying nothing at first, simply watching Scarlett as though confirming she was real. Then the corner of her lips curved in a small, tired smile. "So. I'm guessing things turned out well in the end?"

"…Yes, they did."

"On a scale of lucky charm to miracle, how much of that would you say is thanks to me?"

"A not insignificant amount," Scarlett said.

Rosa paused, then her smile widened. "Can I get that in writing?"

"Do you want it?"

"Well…maybe. Not really. But I'd take it if you're offering." She chuckled softly as she drifted towards the room's corner while keeping her eyes on Scarlett. "I must've missed quite a show, though. Last I recall, we'd just finished surviving those creepy reflections and you announced you were off to fight the Cabal with Allyssa's dad. Had me worried for a second or two there."

Scarlett studied her. "Much has indeed happened."

"Understatement of the—" Rosa cut off abruptly.

Her eyes had landed on the armchair she usually sat in.

She startled backwards as two emerald eyes stared at her.

Slate stayed unmoving.

Several long seconds passed.

A quiet laugh escaped Scarlett.

Rosa spun to glare at her, and Scarlett hid her smile.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "…Oh, you're having fun now, are you?"

"I am sure I have no idea what you mean."

Rosa squinted at her for another second, then turned back to Slate. She raised a hand and fluttered her fingers in a loose wave. "Hi there."

Slate tilted her head, focusing on the hand. "A gesture. A deliberate physical signal. A patterned hand movement. A wave. A greeting." A slight frown drew across her face, tone edging into doubt. "…That was not a wave. Not a greeting."

"Ehm, no, it was," Rosa said. "Just…with flair. A little colour."

"Gestures do not have colour."

"Mine do."

Slate was silent for several more seconds, frown fading. Finally, she lowered her head. "Understood."

When no further words followed, Rosa shot Scarlett another look.

Scarlett folded her arms. "Yes?"

"…Care to introduce our new friend here?"

"Are you incapable of introducing yourself?"

Rosa's lips twitched, but she turned back to Slate. "…Alright. Hello again. I'm Rosa. And who might you be?"

"I am Slate."

"Slate? As in a blank…?"

The girl considered. "Yes."

"Mmhmm. Okay." Rosa nodded. "Totally normal name. Sure."

"It is not."

"No, that was irony."

Slate tilted her head again, the other way. "Irony. Contrary meaning. The purposeful juxtaposition of what appears to be the case with what is actually expected. A joke. A device to create distance. Distance makes safety."

Rosa stared, then slowly turned to Scarlett with suspicion written across her face. "Okay, tell me honestly. Did you bring her in just to mess with me? Is this some sneaky, elaborate jab at my expense?"

Scarlett opened her mouth, closed it, brows drawing together. "…Deacon Abraid said something very similar."

"Well, you know what they say about great minds. It's only natural."

"It is disturbing, rather."

"Potato, tomahto." Rosa flicked her hand, then jabbed a finger towards Slate. "But don't go changing the subject. What sort of villainous schemes are you up to this time?"

"They would not be schemes if I told you."

"No, but they'd still be villainous. That's the part you enjoy." Rosa leaned forward a little, conspiratorial. "Now. Spill."

Scarlett eyed her, then exhaled a faint, amused breath. "Slate is the Tribute of Dominion."

Rosa blinked. She glanced between Scarlett and the girl. "…Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

"…Didn't expect it—her—to be so…human-shaped."

"I am not human," Slate said.

"No, I guess not. You've got the whole pale-skin, sharp-features thing going. People-shaped, then. Or Zuver-shaped. That better?"

"I am a homunculus."

"Ah, well." Rosa spread her hands. "That clears everything right up."

Slate stared at her in silence. "Irony," she concluded at last.

"Sarcasm, actually. Don't worry. Easy mix-up. Happens to me all the time."

Slate scrutinised her even closer. "It does not."

Rosa swivelled back to Scarlett. "Don't tell me we've added another goody-two-shoes truthteller to the party. Took me ages to house-train Fynn."

"I can assure you that she is quite different from Fynn," Scarlett said.

"Yeah? In what way?"

"Slate does not judge whether you are speaking truth or not. Her certainty stems from an inherent grasp of the world around her and its workings."

Rosa squinted again. "So…you're telling me she just knows things?"

"In a manner."

"Does she have a filter?"

"Does that appear to be the case to you?"

The woman groaned lightly and pressed a hand over her face. She turned to Slate again. "We're gonna need to have a long sit-down later. Set some ground rules if you're gonna tag along with this merry band of misfits. First rule: no casual commentary on whether Rosa happens to be fibbing a little or quietly harbouring—oh, I don't know—literal or figurative demons inside. Got it?"

"I do not," Slate said.

"That's fine. We'll break it down as much as you want. Make it as easy as counting back from eleven."

Slate kept studying her. "Why do you joke now? Your purpose was to confirm Scarlett was real. Now that you have, you intend to speak with her. Humour is your shield, but there is nothing to shield against. She is here. You can simply speak."

Rosa fell silent. That silence hung until a small, dry chuckle slipped from her. "Well. Guess she does still need some work."

"It will take time for her to mature," Scarlett said. She observed the woman's profile. "Is there something you would like to say, Rosa?"

Rosa turned, meeting her eyes. Scarlett caught the weight there. "It's about time we had a talk, don't you think, Scarlett?"

"…Can it not wait until the morning?"

A thin, humourless smile curved Rosa's lips. She shook her head. "I don't think it should."

Scarlett held still for several seconds, then let out a deep breath. "No, perhaps you are right." She looked to Slate. "I will bring you to Allyssa's quarters. Inform her that I asked her to assist you for the rest of the night."

The girl didn't offer a response, but Scarlett took that as assent. Loci whisked her away, leaving the armchair empty.

Rosa glanced at it, then at Scarlett.

Scarlett gestured at the seat. "Sit."

Rosa obeyed, tugging her shawl tighter as she faced Scarlett. Their eyes met again.

"So," she breathed. "Which of us should start?"

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