Bernadette was a little disappointed — but she couldn't help wondering: Perhaps what I just did doesn't meet the scales' criteria for "facilitating a transaction." It was more like forcing a transaction.
Though isn't a forced transaction still a transaction?
She turned toward the open sea, thought for a moment, and said: "Crouche — you mentioned not long ago that there's a Pirate Convention coming up in the Sunya Sea?"
Crouche nodded. "That's right. Several of the Pirate Admirals were invited, apparently. You declined at the time."
"I've changed my mind." Her tone left no room for discussion.
"Understood."
"I'll chair the Convention myself."
A Pirate Convention was, in essence, a large-scale trading event — held once or twice a year, drawing pirates and adventurers from all five seas, with a concentrated period of exchanges and transactions over the course of several days.
As one of the Four Kings of the Sea, if she attended in person, she would effectively be acting as host. Every transaction conducted at the event might conceivably be considered "facilitated" by her.
Yes — since she had decided to take Vincent's suggestion, certain preparations needed to begin sooner rather than later.
Stephen raised his hand, unable to help himself. "Your Majesty — haven't you always said these things are a waste of time?"
The corner of Bernadette's mouth lifted slightly. "I've suddenly come to find this sort of thing rather interesting."
Stephen: "Er."
She let the expression drop. "Stephen — I need to borrow your revolver for a while."
"No problem. I'm not using it at the moment anyway." He reached into the holster at his hip and produced a grey-white revolver with an easy grin. "You know what it can do, Your Majesty. The side effect is that after each shot, you'll be gripped by an intense emotion."
Bernadette took the revolver, then turned to Crouche. "Also — source me a Faceless extraordinary item as soon as possible. Minimal side effects, preferably. A Faceless extraordinary characteristic would also do."
"As you command."
The reason for the Faceless item was, of course, for that man.
As one of the Four Kings of the Sea, leader of a clandestine organisation, and daughter of Emperor Roselle — any one of those three identities was highly sensitive.
Bernadette could alter her appearance herself, but that relied on her Cinderella ability — an illusion. It was adequate for a brief public appearance, but for sustaining a different face and identity over an extended period, it was far inferior to a Faceless's transformation. A Faceless worked at the physical level: as long as no slip was made, not even an Angel could detect it. An illusion operated at the mental and visual level — a sufficiently perceptive extraordinary, even at mid-Sequence, could feel that something was wrong.
More to the point, that man couldn't use the illusion ability at all, let alone maintain it over time.
So a Faceless extraordinary item was a necessity.
"I'll leave you to it."
With that, Bernadette dissolved into countless tiny bubbles and vanished.
A little while later, Bernadette arrived once again in Backlund, not having forgotten about the small person who collected Father's diaries. According to her earlier intelligence, the Arbiter should be attending an extraordinary gathering in the next few days.
Inside Caesar's Restaurant, Vivian spoke respectfully:
"Your Majesty, the Arbiter has not appeared again these past few days. I believe she may have realised we are looking for her, and cancelled all her activities accordingly."
"Mm. Keep watching."
Bernadette lifted her glass of wine, took a small sip, and said, as if the thought had just occurred to her: "You hold extraordinary gatherings here in Backlund periodically, don't you?"
Vivian nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. These gatherings allow us to process extraordinary items, and they're useful for gathering reliable intelligence."
"When is the next one?"
"In two days."
Bernadette set down her wine glass and said evenly: "Move it back by one day. This time I intend to host the gathering myself." — Of course, the one actually hosting will be that man.
"I — beg your pardon?"
Vivian was visibly startled. She couldn't understand why Her Majesty would suddenly want to preside over a gathering of mid- and lower-Sequence extraordinaries — but she kept the question to herself and simply nodded. "As you command, Your Majesty."
"I'll be staying with you for a period. Unless I summon you, you may disregard my presence entirely."
"Of course."
"Good. You may go."
Once Vivian had left the room, Bernadette retrieved several stacks of books from the hidden compartment. She nearly smiled: that man probably thought leaving Emerald Island meant he was done with studying.
She could picture his face when he arrived in the next exchange and found twice as many books as last time.
She let the smile go and crossed to the full-length mirror. The next moment, the face reflected back — Bernadette's features, bearing, expression — shifted and rearranged itself. In the space of a second or two, it became a different face entirely: reasonably handsome, but with dark circles under the eyes and a general air of someone who hadn't been sleeping well.
Vincent.
"Well, hello there, Vincent. Let's hope you have some more pleasant surprises for me next time. Please don't make it quite such a fright as this one."
A moment later, Bernadette's own face returned. She stood in thought. Cosmetics alone aren't enough to hold a disguise securely — but a Faceless extraordinary item isn't exactly something you can pick up on a whim.
The Divination Pathway had always been firmly in the hands of the Hermetic Order, and at mid-Sequence and above, independent practitioners became vanishingly rare.
Intis's Eighth Bureau had absorbed quite a few practitioners who had left the Hermetic Order, so they might have something — but that was an official institution, and her relationship with Intis made engaging with them best avoided.
"That leaves only the Hermetic Order. They won't be short of Faceless characteristics, or the corresponding extraordinary items."
The Order's founder, Zaratul, had been a friend of Father's in his day, and Bernadette had seen plenty of Hermetic Order members over the years. But since Zaratul's disappearance, the Order's movements had grown increasingly secretive.
She did know, however, that the Antigonus family's notebook had remained in the Hermetic Order's possession. As a Clairvoyant, if she used the notebook as a thread to pull on, she might be able to trace the Order's whereabouts indirectly.
Bernadette reached into the air and produced a fine fountain pen — Father had once used it to make annotations in the Antigonus notebook, which meant the two objects were linked.
Her eyes gradually deepened. Her skin turned white as snow, her lips red as blood, her hair black as ebony. Between her hands, a translucent and ancient mirror condensed into being.
This was Mystery Pryer's ability — Snow White and the Magic Mirror — which sharpened the precision and accuracy of her prophetic sight.
The image in the mirror blurred briefly, then a single thread appeared — trailing a long afterimage, spiralling away into the distance. Half a minute later, the thread drifted down and settled over a small city below, then went still.
"This is…"
Bernadette came out of the vision, her expression faintly puzzled. She recovered quickly, swept her hand through the air, and bean vines cascaded down from above, weaving themselves into a dense path among the leaves.
In the next instant, she was gone.
Tingen — the Divination Club.
Klein Moretti had just seen off a young woman named Anna, who had come to have her fiancé's safety divined. She'd received a favourable reading, left a 1-soli fee, and hurried out without ceremony.
A good start to the day — but the afternoon had come and gone with no second client. He had refilled his teacup too many times to count. Now, with the heaviness in his stomach becoming insistent, Klein Moretti decided it was time for a comfort break.
He went to the restroom, only to find it occupied. Left with no choice, he headed out of the Divination Club and started back toward home.
He had barely reached the public tram stop when his spirituality gave a sudden twitch — a warning, the kind that came when someone was watching him. He looked around. Nothing suspicious.
Was that his imagination?
Klein Moretti's brow furrowed. He eased himself back, putting other people between himself and the road.
To be continued…
Guys, donate me your powerstones please~