185. Epithets and Expectations

Before Serac knew it, Travertine had risen to his feet while shooting her a furtive look that clearly meant: do as I do. He then faced the purple-robed newcomer in a rigid pose, pressing his fists into the base of his antlers.

Serac recognized the salute, of course, and she hastened to follow suit. She felt more than a little self-conscious, however, what with her 'antlers' being onyx stumps half-hidden by the hood of her overcoat. Her bemused eyes then flitted between Travertine and the man called Realgar, alert to cues on what she ought to do next.

The former held his salute, while the latter took a moment to appraise it. Then the smaller Mriga's gaze shifted onto Serac's poor imitation. His eyes took on that tell-tale Pathsighted gleam, even as the corners of his mouth curled into a smile of polite amusement.

Another beat, brief yet irritatingly long, then Realgar aft'Enright finally deigned to fold his arms onto his chest in a cross shape. Through it all, his entourage made up of two Anchored Mrigas kept very still. One held a tray with three bowls of porridge and the other folded his hands at his waist. They both bowed their heads in humble silence.

Travertine finally lowered his fists, but remained standing, back straight as a board. Serac copied her partner's movement almost exactly, save for an extra frown of 'what gives?' thrown Realgar's way. If the so-called [Viceroy of Dawnwick] had noticed her little act of transgression, he didn't show it.

"Brother Nankervis." Mr Viceroy was the first to speak, smile broadening but still not quite reaching his eyes. If Travertine's voice was a rolling baritone, Realgar's was a floaty sort of tenor. Serac doubted very much this was the harmony the former had been warming up for. "Just the man I'd hoped to run into. The Keeper has blessed me with good fortune toDay. May I join you and"—Realgar's unsmiling eyes flitted toward Serac's hooded figure—"your young acolyte at your end of the table?"

Had Serac still been a hell bumpkin, the subtle duplicities of souls in high places might've escaped her. Having met her fair share of duplicitous and self-important souls, however, she thought she could read between Realgar's lines just fine. Fortune had nothing to do with you finding Travertine here, and you knew exactly who I was before you even walked through the door.

Travertine, who no doubt had made the same read, nonetheless bowed his head and took a step back from the table. Realgar smiled (but not really), picked up a bowl from the tray, then dismissed his attendants with a curt nod. Both Anchored men silently retreated to the far end of the table—and therefore out of earshot of the Wayfarers.

Serac's distaste for Realgar only grew as she watched the interaction. This is the Mr Viceroy that speaks for the Keeper and leads 'the herd'? The one Travertine seems so in awe of? To be fair, she'd also disliked her detective partner before she'd gotten to know him a little. She decided to give the newcomer the benefit of the doubt, at least for now.

The man himself set down his porridge and took a seat across from Serac. Only then did Travertine return to his seat, which was Serac's cue to do the same. This was followed by several uncomfortable seconds of silence, in which both Mrigas stared unblinkingly at the Rakshasa-in-disguise—as if waiting for her to run the show!

Serac was soon spared from having to blurt out some inane blather, but only because Travertine beat her to the punch.

"Th—these clothes belonged to one of the Butcher's victims. As you know, I've been collecting their personal effects as potential evidence, and it just so happened that Ser—Sister Edin—"

"Spare me the details of your failed investigations." Realgar's mouth still curled in a smile, yet the words that issued from them were as chilly as his eyes. "If I hadn't received word that you might've had a breakthrough, I wouldn't have come down here myself. I take it this is the lass who finally helped you make some real progress?"

Serac would've been indignant on Travertine's behalf… if her attention hadn't been wrested away by matters of far greater urgency. She looked down at her blouse (which, in all honesty, she'd grown rather fond of!) and even tried furtively to sniff it. She'd had her own suspicions about the unsavory origins of these clothes, but that hadn't softened the blow of hearing the facts laid out so plainly.

"Of course, Viceroy," Travertine said with another slight bow. He kept his mild manners, but his scowl became a little twitchy as he continued, "And… yes. You're as well-informed as always, Viceroy. I found Sister Edin at the mooring shores right as Dawn broke"—no mention of the mishap with VOIDLING, Serac didn't fail to note—"and she's been helping me with the investigations since. As you surmised, she's already proven her worth by arriving at the method by which the Butcher commits its murders undetected. Namely that it slips across the Day-Night divide at will, using some blade-like Instrument to cut into the veils."

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At this, the 'well-informed' Viceroy widened his stag eyes just a touch—his first show of genuine emotion. And if he wondered at the method by which an ascended outrealmer had unearthed this nugget of information, he showed it merely by maintaining his discerning gaze.

Serac, for her part, couldn't help but frown some more. Who was this KL-55 stick-in-the-mud to look down his deer nose at her—and command such fearful obedience from a CROZIER wielder with 40 Karmic Levels on him? Behind them, Little Doe DLEE had folded herself into a prim crouching position. Even Big Stag ORD kept a respectful distance with nary a grunt nor bristle. In this case, Travertine's deer familiars only mirrored their Oathkeeper's meek deference.

Realgar's Liminal Karma of [0 क] either means he died very recently, or that he hasn't bothered to 'Wayfare' in quite some time. Maybe because he has all these other Templars doing the work for him? Even so, Pathsight has seen fit to grant him an epithet. He must've been someone pretty special before he became this joyless taskmaster…

Serac caught onto the fact she'd just called herself 'special' by association, which only disturbed her some more. She opted to pause her internal blathering and focus on the interaction with her local guides.

"Fascinating." Realgar aft'Enright gave a one-word appraisal of Travertine's report. But then, like a true stick-in-the-mud, he couldn't resist adding, "But also a further indictment on your incompetence, Cardinal. Even with the months you've been on the case, even as the bodies have piled up, and even with the slew of Deacons and Bishops I'd assigned to be your reinforcement, you failed to match one Morning of this outrealmer's work. Really, I'm beginning to wonder if you've come to take my high opinion of you for granted—if perhaps some fresh blood is needed to—"

"You're one to talk!"

All cervine eyes in the vicinity, including DLEE's and ORD's, trained on Serac in an instant. She immediately grew hot with embarrassment but not with contrition. She wouldn't apologize for her outburst, not when she so firmly believed in the [Integrity] of her words.

"You're supposed to be the leader your people look up to, aren't you?" Serac forged ahead, driven and surprised by pent-up anger. "Where were you while the months wore on and the bodies piled up? Why couldn't you, I dunno, ask your Keeper for some guidance? Divine a future where the herd may rest easy, freed from the tyranny of shadows and claws? A wolf in sheep's clothing lurks amidst the tattered Gloam, and it's your oathbound duty as shepherd to cast its evil before the judgment of light. What say you, my good fellow? Are you ready to stake your words upon your deeds?"

The four pairs of deer eyes stayed fixed on Serac's person, at varying degrees of 'what in the Keeper's name just happened'-ness. Even the Anchored attendants on the far end of the table, as well as the kitchen maid, looked up from their silent vigils to stare at the hooded figure who'd so boldly sermonized their Viceroy.

Oh my gods, Serac wondered, now well and truly mortified with herself. Was I loud? I was really loud, wasn't I? It's just so hard to control my volume when the third—ow!

Serac's vision of the gawking Mrigas blurred as she scrunched up her own face. Try as she might, this was one kind of pain she couldn't hide, no matter the company. She gave in and allowed herself a moment of frank vulnerability, waiting for the headache to pass.

Speaking from pure experience, Serac had fully expected the third entity to show up at some point in her Tidereign journey, just as it had in the two lower Realms. Whoever it was, it was clearly a well-traveled soul, with friends and enemies in many places. She just hadn't expected it to show up quite this soon, when even the entity's 'host' had barely had a chance to settle into the new Realm.

The Mrigas across from her had no insight into her inner turmoil. Travertine, scowl completely erased by a look of astonishment mixed with genuine concern, opened his mouth as if to speak. But it was his killjoy boss who beat him to the punch.

"It's true what they say, isn't it?" Realgar murmured as if to himself. His face was flexed in an wry smile that seemed to ill fit the occasion (but at least this one incorporated his eyes!). He continued, louder, "We Wayfarers who bear a gods-given epithet also shoulder a certain element of expectation. I see you, Upheaver, aren't shy about fostering those expectations everywhere you go."

Serac wished dearly to correct Realgar's misunderstanding. No, if she had her way, she wouldn't foster any undue expectation anywhere she went. But she remained speechless, still in the throes of her Circlet-borne headache.

That was when Realgar rose to his feet—an effect far less impressive than Travertine's rendition. The Viceroy's bowl of porridge went untouched as he announced his next move in 'leading the herd'.

"Allow me to strive as you so eloquently suggested, Sister Edin. Namely to stake my words upon my deeds." Realgar's smiling eyes now gleamed with amusement and challenge alike. "Come. Let us join forces on this blessed Day. With the information you've provided, I've conceived exactly how we might corner our wolf in sheep's clothing. And to that end, we must once more descend into the Catacombs."

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