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[Royal Procession]

                Sylvester did his best to tolerate Evie as she fussed with his collar, but, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help reminiscing about how they made for a rather motley crew. He was biting his tongue, they all were because Evie had spent every last cent she had to take them all on a shopping spree, buying them new clothes and openly coaching them into outfits that wouldn’t upset her visiting master. It had been years since he had dressed in such finery, but it didn’t do much to hide the bandages wrapped around his hands, or anyone else’s injuries for that matter.

                Belix had been dressed in a long red coat with a captain’s hat which did nothing to cover the large pad over the hole where her ear used to be. Granger looked the best out of all of them, with a new cap and formal robe, he would almost be presentable if it wasn’t for the large bruise on his cheek. While Sylvester had abandoned his old clothes for a black three piece suit, Zeesa had remained a holdout, refusing any kind of covering she deemed unnecessary so that she could scratch at and otherwise fiddle with the wrappings around her ribs. Evie had even made an effort to dress up the shrimps, the ones whom she could get her hands on anyway, tying bows and ribbons around them, for presentation she said.

                Stitch actually enjoyed hers quite a bit, a big fluffy bow made of pink silk that she was constantly rubbing against her cheek. While Donald had been constrained by a thicker twine he was actively trying to chew his way out of.

                Evie made a final pass, finally giving up on Sylvester’s collar, she tried to adjust Belix’s hat only to get her hands slapped away, then glared at Zeesa, who glared right back and slid a bra strap off of her shoulder in an act of defiance. Shaking her head in aggravation, Evie moved on to Granger and fixed his belt before stepping back and letting out a sigh.

“That’s about as good as it’s going to get,” she muttered, then walked to the end of the hall where she had arranged a small altar and a much larger and more ornate circle drawn onto the wall behind it, she waited, but only a few moments longer before it started to glow, “Here we go.”

                As it continued to shine, she tucked a veil into her hood and bowed low enough to press her face against the floor with her hands. They all had to cover their eyes as the light glowed bright enough to blind them, then it faded, leaving behind a trio of women. Lady Jessica stepped forward, flanked by two armed guards, each of them holding a golden spear that clacked loudly against the stone floor as they walked. Lady Jessica stopped in front of Belix and glanced at her missing ear.

“Not certain what I’m supposed to say here,” Belix mentioned, “But, if you’re looking for a kiss…”

“Talk to one of my girls about that,” Lady Jessica mentioned to her before passing by, “We can do something about it.”

“A severed appendage?”

“It’s not a limb dear,” she sighed, walking away and stepping on Evie’s fingers as she did so, “Honestly, the state you people live in,” she stopped again in front of Granger, “And aren’t you the big one, a cyborg I’m led to understand.”

“You would be correct ma’am,” he nodded respectfully.

“And, a man of faith as well?”

“…as much as a man can be,” he shifted awkwardly.

“I’ve brought one of my best engineers with me, consider them at your disposal.”

“We’re good,” Donald snapped, leering at her while still eating through the twine wrapped around his body.

                She smirked at him, surprised.

“And those things can talk?” she mentioned, then glared at Evie out the corner of her eye, “Would have been nice to know that before I arrived.”

“His name is Donald,” Granger stated bluntly.

“And he is quite adorable,” she smiled and bowed respectfully before moving on to Zeesa who was looking at her placidly while sliding a finger under her bandages to scratch an itch, “Ah, a woman of culture,” she leaned in close and winked, “By the way, whenever you get a moment free, how about we head down to the bar and grab a few beers, it’s been a while since I cut loose.”

“Meh,” Zeesa shrugged, flicking some dead skin off of her finger, “I don’t really drink, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Oh, heh-heh, I do like you, We are definitely hitting the town later,” she moved on and finally stopped in front of Sylvester, “And now, we have the man of the hour, Sylvester Brandon, yes?”

“It’s the name they gave me,” Sylvester nodded.

“And who is this beautiful little creature?” Lady Jessica asked, leaning in to examine creature wrapped in a bow who was happily humming on his shoulder.

“Stitch,” the shrimp declared gladly, but snapped hold of Lady Jessica’s finger as she reached out to pat her on the head, “Don’t touch the bow!”

“Noted,” Lady Jessica complained, pulling her hand away and examining the bloody rent in her finger.

                Without a word, she passed her finger to one of her attendants who smeared a lotion on the cut, instantly staunching the blood flow and sealing it with nary a scar.

“Just a small representation of the benefits we have to offer,” she mentioned to Sylvester before taking him by the arm and pulling him down the hall, “But, for now, I’d like to share with you some of our more pertinent political benefits.”

“Alright…” Sylvester raised an eyebrow, “Have you been to this temple before?”

“Um…no, I don’t believe I have…”

“Then why are you trying to lead the way?” he demanded.

“Oh…well,” she suddenly stopped, blushing sheepishly, “Um, then…if you would…”

“I may,” he responded, walking in front of them, “I should warn you, our current ship isn’t much to look at.”

“I’m sure we can manage…”

“And it only seats four.”

“…is that a problem?”

“We also need Evie to go on a supply run.”

                She glared at him sideways, ten turned to one of her attendants and whispered something into her ear before sending the guard on her way.

“I told her to collect the maid, she’ll stay with your companions while we run our errands.”

“Alright…” Sylvester shrugged and continued walking.

                Several minutes later, they arrived at the massive cavern which once housed their ship and saw the dinky little raft that was their only remaining vessel. A swarm of the shrimps pooled into the area and Sylvester knelt down to greet them. He offered a few comforting words, patting them on the head and promising that he would return soon. Eventually, they were joined by Evie, who pointedly avoided her master’s gaze and hurriedly rushed towards the raft, parting the swarm as she ran through.

“You’re quite good with them,” Lady Jessica commented, ignoring her subordinate as Evie started up the ship.

“I…I wouldn’t really know,” he responded, moving onto the ship and sitting down.

                Lady Jessica sat down next to him, as close as she possibly could while her remaining guard stood straight and ready, not even shaking as the raft lifted off of from the cavern floor. As they flew through the air, Lady Jessica put her arm around his shoulder and Sylvester did his best to focus on his folded hands. Stitch climbed atop his head and glared at the old nun, clicking her claws together threateningly.

“Are you afraid of me young man?” she wondered.

“…I need your help ma’am,” he responded simply, “I don’t want to offend you, but…”

“Not interested in an old Hag like me?”

“I’m not into pushy women,” he corrected, and moved to the other side of the ship where he sat down, looking her in the eye, “What are you planning to do with me?”

                She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, ungratefully glaring back at him.

“Since you’ve so ‘graciously’ swept my bedroom fun off of the table…” she grumbled, “What I need is a figurehead.”

“A dancing chimp,” he corrected her again.

“In so many words,” she admitted with a shrug, “I won’t bore you overmuch with the details, but, you will go where I say, do what I say and the speeches you give…”

“Yours as well?”

“Well, they’ll be written by a scribe I employ, but I will be approving them for you.”

                Sylvester nodded, thinking it over.

“…we need a ship,” he insisted, “One that actually moves, and information.”

“Pertaining to…?”

“You’ve been talking to Evie,” he glanced over at their pilot, “You know what happened.”

“Indulge me,” she leaned forward, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her hand.

“A Devil,” he responded sternly, “Its name is Delmoth, and I need to know…anything…everything, myths legends, weaknesses, anything that can hurt, kill or capture, and I need it yesterday.”

“Would tomorrow do?”

“…I’ll accept it.”

“Anything else?”

“Time.”

“How much?”

                He said nothing, looking away self-consciously.

“You’ll need to be trained soon boy, trained in history, etiquette…”

“I know enough already.”

“Debatable,” Lady Jessica glared back, then sighed, “You’re looking for a blank check and free reign to pursue a personal vendetta.”

“I wouldn’t say it like that…”

“The answer is ‘no’!”

“Meaning that you want me to do it your way.”

“Meaning that I want to do it the RIGHT way!” she scoffed at his indignation, “Honestly, why send a handful of people when you can send an army?”

“…then why haven’t you?” he asked contemplatively.

“I…I’m not sure that I like your tone,” Lady Jessica looked away.

“No…wait,” he held up a hand, “You’ve already admitted that you’ve been talking to Evie, she knows about as much as I do about this, all I added was a name, and what the Hell have you been doing in the meanwhile?”

“We’ve been gathering intelligence…”

“Okay, so what do you know?”

“We…” Lady Jessica shifted nervously, “We have ascertained that the demon…was recently in Threnodide.”

“I could’ve told you that!” Sylvester snapped, pointing at the dreadnaught still hanging in the sky behind them, “Do you honestly not understand what’s happening right now?”

“A demon is loose, but our order has been dealing with them for centuries, you’re blowing the problem far out of proportion.”

“It SENT That Here!”

“You’re speculating…”

“People died!” he shouted at her, then paused, hit by a sudden realization, “That’s what you want isn’t it.”

“Is that even a question?” Lady Jessica demanded indignantly.

“You sick, sadistic…” he rose to his feet only for her attendant to level a spear at him, but he slapped it away continuing to loom dangerously over her, a misty fog rolling off of his shoulders, “You actually want that thing to cause havoc, because then you can swoop in and be the big fucking hero!”

                She gave no response, continuing to face her down as ice collected in a thin sheet across his knuckles.

“…I think you’re killing your friend,” Lady Jessica stated, indicating Stitch who was shuddering as a layer of frost began to form over her body.

                Sylvester saw his ward, twitching and shaking, and finally relented, pulling her from his shoulder and wrapping the creature in his tie before stuffing her into his jacket pocket to hopefully warm up.

“All actions have consequences,” Lady Jessica told him with a snide grin behind her veil, “You’re not always the one who has to pay the price for it.”

“…God…” he shook his head, “You really don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“You would be surprised, little boy.”

“You didn’t, didn’t ‘drop a milk jug on the floor’ your little brother didn’t ‘slip in it and break his leg’, Delmoth wants to End this world!”

“No, it only wishes to open a gateway to our preconceived notion of Hell and release a horde of demons to ravage the countryside,” Lady Jessica replied dismissively, “We’ve dealt with it before…”

“No!” Sylvester actually felt like laughing, “YOU damn sure didn’t!”

“Semantics,” she waved the comment away, then glared at him, “You’ve probably already figured this out by now, but we don’t actually need you for what you are, we don’t ‘need’ a representative of the old Gods, what we require is a figurehead.”

                Sylvester looked away, shaking his head and slowly beginning to realize who he was dealing with. A part of him had hoped for better, a diplomat, or even a politician, someone he could appeal to, perhaps even work with. Instead, he found himself on a rickety boat sailing into the unknown, with a spoiled brat. It didn’t matter what he said, he knew that she would force this through, Make this plan work come Hell or High Water.

“I understand your trepidation,” she insisted as he stared silently off into the distance, “Being a puppet, it never sounds too appealing, but there are various perks, wealth, comfortable living for you and your friends, within Seriquesse you will be treated as kings, more than that, as God himself.”

“With you as my faithful right hand,” Sylvester grumbled.

“Someone must meet the masses, ahem, to pass on your words of wisdom and glad tidings…”

“So you can throw me under the bus when things turn sour,” he surmised, “’No, it wasn’t me! It was that false prophet who claimed he was the voice of God!’”

“It’s a risk we all must take, especially when you run a manipulation at this high a level,” Lady Jessica stood up and touched his shoulder, “I know that you assume…”

“Rightly so!” he growled, brushing her hand away and leaning against the ship’s railing.

“But I truly do love our people, our Faith, I want nothing more than to see them prosper,” she insisted desperately, “And they will, under My…OUR guidance, but, to make them ripe, ready to accept our guidance, we must…yes, we must cull them, prune the tree, but only so that it may grow, Properly, in the light of our one true almighty.”

                Sylvester didn’t trust himself to speak, so he kept his mouth shut. In his mind he was mulling things over, reasoning out his options.

                He didn’t need them, at least, that’s what he wanted to say, to scream at the top of his lungs, but, he was not a complete fool. The dreadnaught was only the beginning, perhaps it was already happening, somewhere else, a new town, burning… and more…more deaths, every minute. He could persevere, struggle and fight, find his own way, but how much time, how many lives would it take? Was his pride truly worth it?

                Almost jumping when Lady Jessica put a hand on his shoulder, he considered brushing her away again, but thought better of it.

“You’ll see,” she spoke softly, almost whispering into his ear, “It’s for the best.”

“It could be better,” he muttered, scratching his chin, stricken by a sudden inspiration, “In fact…it should be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re thinking too small,” he grinned, “You want to be their savior, but how will they even know you saved them?”

“When we banish the ungodly hoards and set the world to right.”

“No, no, you honestly think anyone’s going to believe you did that?” he scoffed, to Lady Jessica’s incredulous surprise, “Every crackpot asshole and tinplated despot is going to be saying the same thing, it’ll be an endless uphill battle, your declaration will be considered heresy in every country not directly under your control, you’d be no better off than you are now.”

“…hmm,” she considered, “And, I suppose you have a solution?”

“Why intercept the ship in mid-flight when you can board it prior to take-off?” he offered then turned about to spread his arms invitingly, “Use us, a band of plucky heroes, fighting under your banner of course, and spreading word far and wide: ‘Demons’ we will declare, ‘Demons returned from the dark to claim your families, and only the church can keep you safe’.”

“…It sounds like you’re just asking for what I’ve already refused to give you.”

“Actually, what I wanted was information,” he shrugged, “Cards on the table, I’m still going to look for it, but what can I actually do to halt your plans?”

                The Lady Jessica grumbled at him, folding her arms.

“I never told you I was surrendering, ma’am,” he added with a slightly aggressive tone, “But you do have me in a stalemate at the moment, and I am literally pissing into the wind trying to find an angle, so, ask yourself what you want, a happy but devastated figurehead who has already defeated himself? Or a pissed off ice demon with a very personal grudge against you!”

“We’re nearing the dock,” Evie called out meekly over her shoulder.

                Lady Jessica chewed on her lower lip and waited while the ship sat down as she considered the offer.

“A ship,” she declared finally, “And supplies, but it will be crewed by MY people, THEY, will set the itinerary.”

“And I will work around it as best I can to subvert your designs,” he smirked.

“AND!” she snapped, “They will be under orders to leave you at the nearest port if they notice you doing anything stupid,” she then leaned in, whispering in a dangerous voice, “And they won’t be back, even after the world goes to Hell.”

“I’ll try my best,” he held out his hand, “Do we have a deal?”

                She stared at his hand before shaking it.

“Nothing ventured nothing gained,” she mused, “But, win lose or draw, I will have you boy, even if I have to pick your bones out of Satan’s teeth.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiled then turned away, “I’ve got some errands to run, so, let me know how I goes with the magistrate.”

“You’re not coming?” Lady Jessica glared at him, “You were to be my escort.”

“And I escorted you to the docks, You have a guard and I will presume that you won’t be needing my help to finalize the airspace variance for the dreadnaught, and, if you’ll excuse me,” he spun about just long enough to bow before leaving, “I’ve other business to attend to.”

                Lady Jessica watched him leave, grinding her teeth in barely repressed rage.

“I told you he was a difficult one,” Evie mentioned softly.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Lady Jessica snapped before departing the raft.

Description

[Royal Procession]

                Sylvester did his best to tolerate Evie as she fussed with his collar, but, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help reminiscing about how they made for a rather motley crew. He was biting his tongue, they all were because Evie had spent every last cent she had to take them all on a shopping spree, buying them new clothes and openly coaching them into outfits that wouldn’t upset her visiting master. It had been years since he had dressed in such finery, but it didn’t do much to hide the bandages wrapped around his hands, or anyone else’s injuries for that matter.

                Belix had been dressed in a long red coat with a captain’s hat which did nothing to cover the large pad over the hole where her ear used to be. Granger looked the best out of all of them, with a new cap and formal robe, he would almost be presentable if it wasn’t for the large bruise on his cheek. While Sylvester had abandoned his old clothes for a black three piece suit, Zeesa had remained a holdout, refusing any kind of covering she deemed unnecessary so that she could scratch at and otherwise fiddle with the wrappings around her ribs. Evie had even made an effort to dress up the shrimps, the ones whom she could get her hands on anyway, tying bows and ribbons around them, for presentation she said.

                Stitch actually enjoyed hers quite a bit, a big fluffy bow made of pink silk that she was constantly rubbing against her cheek. While Donald had been constrained by a thicker twine he was actively trying to chew his way out of.

                Evie made a final pass, finally giving up on Sylvester’s collar, she tried to adjust Belix’s hat only to get her hands slapped away, then glared at Zeesa, who glared right back and slid a bra strap off of her shoulder in an act of defiance. Shaking her head in aggravation, Evie moved on to Granger and fixed his belt before stepping back and letting out a sigh.

“That’s about as good as it’s going to get,” she muttered, then walked to the end of the hall where she had arranged a small altar and a much larger and more ornate circle drawn onto the wall behind it, she waited, but only a few moments longer before it started to glow, “Here we go.”

                As it continued to shine, she tucked a veil into her hood and bowed low enough to press her face against the floor with her hands. They all had to cover their eyes as the light glowed bright enough to blind them, then it faded, leaving behind a trio of women. Lady Jessica stepped forward, flanked by two armed guards, each of them holding a golden spear that clacked loudly against the stone floor as they walked. Lady Jessica stopped in front of Belix and glanced at her missing ear.

“Not certain what I’m supposed to say here,” Belix mentioned, “But, if you’re looking for a kiss…”

“Talk to one of my girls about that,” Lady Jessica mentioned to her before passing by, “We can do something about it.”

“A severed appendage?”

“It’s not a limb dear,” she sighed, walking away and stepping on Evie’s fingers as she did so, “Honestly, the state you people live in,” she stopped again in front of Granger, “And aren’t you the big one, a cyborg I’m led to understand.”

“You would be correct ma’am,” he nodded respectfully.

“And, a man of faith as well?”

“…as much as a man can be,” he shifted awkwardly.

“I’ve brought one of my best engineers with me, consider them at your disposal.”

“We’re good,” Donald snapped, leering at her while still eating through the twine wrapped around his body.

                She smirked at him, surprised.

“And those things can talk?” she mentioned, then glared at Evie out the corner of her eye, “Would have been nice to know that before I arrived.”

“His name is Donald,” Granger stated bluntly.

“And he is quite adorable,” she smiled and bowed respectfully before moving on to Zeesa who was looking at her placidly while sliding a finger under her bandages to scratch an itch, “Ah, a woman of culture,” she leaned in close and winked, “By the way, whenever you get a moment free, how about we head down to the bar and grab a few beers, it’s been a while since I cut loose.”

“Meh,” Zeesa shrugged, flicking some dead skin off of her finger, “I don’t really drink, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Oh, heh-heh, I do like you, We are definitely hitting the town later,” she moved on and finally stopped in front of Sylvester, “And now, we have the man of the hour, Sylvester Brandon, yes?”

“It’s the name they gave me,” Sylvester nodded.

“And who is this beautiful little creature?” Lady Jessica asked, leaning in to examine creature wrapped in a bow who was happily humming on his shoulder.

“Stitch,” the shrimp declared gladly, but snapped hold of Lady Jessica’s finger as she reached out to pat her on the head, “Don’t touch the bow!”

“Noted,” Lady Jessica complained, pulling her hand away and examining the bloody rent in her finger.

                Without a word, she passed her finger to one of her attendants who smeared a lotion on the cut, instantly staunching the blood flow and sealing it with nary a scar.

“Just a small representation of the benefits we have to offer,” she mentioned to Sylvester before taking him by the arm and pulling him down the hall, “But, for now, I’d like to share with you some of our more pertinent political benefits.”

“Alright…” Sylvester raised an eyebrow, “Have you been to this temple before?”

“Um…no, I don’t believe I have…”

“Then why are you trying to lead the way?” he demanded.

“Oh…well,” she suddenly stopped, blushing sheepishly, “Um, then…if you would…”

“I may,” he responded, walking in front of them, “I should warn you, our current ship isn’t much to look at.”

“I’m sure we can manage…”

“And it only seats four.”

“…is that a problem?”

“We also need Evie to go on a supply run.”

                She glared at him sideways, ten turned to one of her attendants and whispered something into her ear before sending the guard on her way.

“I told her to collect the maid, she’ll stay with your companions while we run our errands.”

“Alright…” Sylvester shrugged and continued walking.

                Several minutes later, they arrived at the massive cavern which once housed their ship and saw the dinky little raft that was their only remaining vessel. A swarm of the shrimps pooled into the area and Sylvester knelt down to greet them. He offered a few comforting words, patting them on the head and promising that he would return soon. Eventually, they were joined by Evie, who pointedly avoided her master’s gaze and hurriedly rushed towards the raft, parting the swarm as she ran through.

“You’re quite good with them,” Lady Jessica commented, ignoring her subordinate as Evie started up the ship.

“I…I wouldn’t really know,” he responded, moving onto the ship and sitting down.

                Lady Jessica sat down next to him, as close as she possibly could while her remaining guard stood straight and ready, not even shaking as the raft lifted off of from the cavern floor. As they flew through the air, Lady Jessica put her arm around his shoulder and Sylvester did his best to focus on his folded hands. Stitch climbed atop his head and glared at the old nun, clicking her claws together threateningly.

“Are you afraid of me young man?” she wondered.

“…I need your help ma’am,” he responded simply, “I don’t want to offend you, but…”

“Not interested in an old Hag like me?”

“I’m not into pushy women,” he corrected, and moved to the other side of the ship where he sat down, looking her in the eye, “What are you planning to do with me?”

                She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, ungratefully glaring back at him.

“Since you’ve so ‘graciously’ swept my bedroom fun off of the table…” she grumbled, “What I need is a figurehead.”

“A dancing chimp,” he corrected her again.

“In so many words,” she admitted with a shrug, “I won’t bore you overmuch with the details, but, you will go where I say, do what I say and the speeches you give…”

“Yours as well?”

“Well, they’ll be written by a scribe I employ, but I will be approving them for you.”

                Sylvester nodded, thinking it over.

“…we need a ship,” he insisted, “One that actually moves, and information.”

“Pertaining to…?”

“You’ve been talking to Evie,” he glanced over at their pilot, “You know what happened.”

“Indulge me,” she leaned forward, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her hand.

“A Devil,” he responded sternly, “Its name is Delmoth, and I need to know…anything…everything, myths legends, weaknesses, anything that can hurt, kill or capture, and I need it yesterday.”

“Would tomorrow do?”

“…I’ll accept it.”

“Anything else?”

“Time.”

“How much?”

                He said nothing, looking away self-consciously.

“You’ll need to be trained soon boy, trained in history, etiquette…”

“I know enough already.”

“Debatable,” Lady Jessica glared back, then sighed, “You’re looking for a blank check and free reign to pursue a personal vendetta.”

“I wouldn’t say it like that…”

“The answer is ‘no’!”

“Meaning that you want me to do it your way.”

“Meaning that I want to do it the RIGHT way!” she scoffed at his indignation, “Honestly, why send a handful of people when you can send an army?”

“…then why haven’t you?” he asked contemplatively.

“I…I’m not sure that I like your tone,” Lady Jessica looked away.

“No…wait,” he held up a hand, “You’ve already admitted that you’ve been talking to Evie, she knows about as much as I do about this, all I added was a name, and what the Hell have you been doing in the meanwhile?”

“We’ve been gathering intelligence…”

“Okay, so what do you know?”

“We…” Lady Jessica shifted nervously, “We have ascertained that the demon…was recently in Threnodide.”

“I could’ve told you that!” Sylvester snapped, pointing at the dreadnaught still hanging in the sky behind them, “Do you honestly not understand what’s happening right now?”

“A demon is loose, but our order has been dealing with them for centuries, you’re blowing the problem far out of proportion.”

“It SENT That Here!”

“You’re speculating…”

“People died!” he shouted at her, then paused, hit by a sudden realization, “That’s what you want isn’t it.”

“Is that even a question?” Lady Jessica demanded indignantly.

“You sick, sadistic…” he rose to his feet only for her attendant to level a spear at him, but he slapped it away continuing to loom dangerously over her, a misty fog rolling off of his shoulders, “You actually want that thing to cause havoc, because then you can swoop in and be the big fucking hero!”

                She gave no response, continuing to face her down as ice collected in a thin sheet across his knuckles.

“…I think you’re killing your friend,” Lady Jessica stated, indicating Stitch who was shuddering as a layer of frost began to form over her body.

                Sylvester saw his ward, twitching and shaking, and finally relented, pulling her from his shoulder and wrapping the creature in his tie before stuffing her into his jacket pocket to hopefully warm up.

“All actions have consequences,” Lady Jessica told him with a snide grin behind her veil, “You’re not always the one who has to pay the price for it.”

“…God…” he shook his head, “You really don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“You would be surprised, little boy.”

“You didn’t, didn’t ‘drop a milk jug on the floor’ your little brother didn’t ‘slip in it and break his leg’, Delmoth wants to End this world!”

“No, it only wishes to open a gateway to our preconceived notion of Hell and release a horde of demons to ravage the countryside,” Lady Jessica replied dismissively, “We’ve dealt with it before…”

“No!” Sylvester actually felt like laughing, “YOU damn sure didn’t!”

“Semantics,” she waved the comment away, then glared at him, “You’ve probably already figured this out by now, but we don’t actually need you for what you are, we don’t ‘need’ a representative of the old Gods, what we require is a figurehead.”

                Sylvester looked away, shaking his head and slowly beginning to realize who he was dealing with. A part of him had hoped for better, a diplomat, or even a politician, someone he could appeal to, perhaps even work with. Instead, he found himself on a rickety boat sailing into the unknown, with a spoiled brat. It didn’t matter what he said, he knew that she would force this through, Make this plan work come Hell or High Water.

“I understand your trepidation,” she insisted as he stared silently off into the distance, “Being a puppet, it never sounds too appealing, but there are various perks, wealth, comfortable living for you and your friends, within Seriquesse you will be treated as kings, more than that, as God himself.”

“With you as my faithful right hand,” Sylvester grumbled.

“Someone must meet the masses, ahem, to pass on your words of wisdom and glad tidings…”

“So you can throw me under the bus when things turn sour,” he surmised, “’No, it wasn’t me! It was that false prophet who claimed he was the voice of God!’”

“It’s a risk we all must take, especially when you run a manipulation at this high a level,” Lady Jessica stood up and touched his shoulder, “I know that you assume…”

“Rightly so!” he growled, brushing her hand away and leaning against the ship’s railing.

“But I truly do love our people, our Faith, I want nothing more than to see them prosper,” she insisted desperately, “And they will, under My…OUR guidance, but, to make them ripe, ready to accept our guidance, we must…yes, we must cull them, prune the tree, but only so that it may grow, Properly, in the light of our one true almighty.”

                Sylvester didn’t trust himself to speak, so he kept his mouth shut. In his mind he was mulling things over, reasoning out his options.

                He didn’t need them, at least, that’s what he wanted to say, to scream at the top of his lungs, but, he was not a complete fool. The dreadnaught was only the beginning, perhaps it was already happening, somewhere else, a new town, burning… and more…more deaths, every minute. He could persevere, struggle and fight, find his own way, but how much time, how many lives would it take? Was his pride truly worth it?

                Almost jumping when Lady Jessica put a hand on his shoulder, he considered brushing her away again, but thought better of it.

“You’ll see,” she spoke softly, almost whispering into his ear, “It’s for the best.”

“It could be better,” he muttered, scratching his chin, stricken by a sudden inspiration, “In fact…it should be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re thinking too small,” he grinned, “You want to be their savior, but how will they even know you saved them?”

“When we banish the ungodly hoards and set the world to right.”

“No, no, you honestly think anyone’s going to believe you did that?” he scoffed, to Lady Jessica’s incredulous surprise, “Every crackpot asshole and tinplated despot is going to be saying the same thing, it’ll be an endless uphill battle, your declaration will be considered heresy in every country not directly under your control, you’d be no better off than you are now.”

“…hmm,” she considered, “And, I suppose you have a solution?”

“Why intercept the ship in mid-flight when you can board it prior to take-off?” he offered then turned about to spread his arms invitingly, “Use us, a band of plucky heroes, fighting under your banner of course, and spreading word far and wide: ‘Demons’ we will declare, ‘Demons returned from the dark to claim your families, and only the church can keep you safe’.”

“…It sounds like you’re just asking for what I’ve already refused to give you.”

“Actually, what I wanted was information,” he shrugged, “Cards on the table, I’m still going to look for it, but what can I actually do to halt your plans?”

                The Lady Jessica grumbled at him, folding her arms.

“I never told you I was surrendering, ma’am,” he added with a slightly aggressive tone, “But you do have me in a stalemate at the moment, and I am literally pissing into the wind trying to find an angle, so, ask yourself what you want, a happy but devastated figurehead who has already defeated himself? Or a pissed off ice demon with a very personal grudge against you!”

“We’re nearing the dock,” Evie called out meekly over her shoulder.

                Lady Jessica chewed on her lower lip and waited while the ship sat down as she considered the offer.

“A ship,” she declared finally, “And supplies, but it will be crewed by MY people, THEY, will set the itinerary.”

“And I will work around it as best I can to subvert your designs,” he smirked.

“AND!” she snapped, “They will be under orders to leave you at the nearest port if they notice you doing anything stupid,” she then leaned in, whispering in a dangerous voice, “And they won’t be back, even after the world goes to Hell.”

“I’ll try my best,” he held out his hand, “Do we have a deal?”

                She stared at his hand before shaking it.

“Nothing ventured nothing gained,” she mused, “But, win lose or draw, I will have you boy, even if I have to pick your bones out of Satan’s teeth.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smiled then turned away, “I’ve got some errands to run, so, let me know how I goes with the magistrate.”

“You’re not coming?” Lady Jessica glared at him, “You were to be my escort.”

“And I escorted you to the docks, You have a guard and I will presume that you won’t be needing my help to finalize the airspace variance for the dreadnaught, and, if you’ll excuse me,” he spun about just long enough to bow before leaving, “I’ve other business to attend to.”

                Lady Jessica watched him leave, grinding her teeth in barely repressed rage.

“I told you he was a difficult one,” Evie mentioned softly.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Lady Jessica snapped before departing the raft.