"Bang—!"
J: Urgh!
He falls to one knee, lifting the long-wrapped shaft that has been on his back, as spells continue to strike him, forcing him into a step-by-step retreat.
Team Member I: Mr. Brown, we have need of your cooperation. We do not wanna hurt you or your friends, but should you continue to resist, we'll be forced to take necessary action.
Matilda: Unbelievable, so rude! Even as an arcanist, all he does is this vulgar hand-to-hand combat.
Matilda: Still, that long stick he carries most certainly isn't a toy.
Matilda: Ahem. Gentlemen, if you would be willing to come quietly and play nice, I will consider lowering your risk rating in our report.
She tries to reason with them, keeping in mind her desire to search for the man who mentioned the Manus Vindictae.
But he is already gone, and the dagger lies undamaged on the ground.
Her teammates gain ground on the would-be warrior, who has sunken to his knees.
J: coughs I gotta say sometimes I wish I could take a knee and surrender.
J: But ... spit
He smiles through bloodied teeth.
J: Sadly, even after all those hard-knock lessons, I never learned once how to raise the white flag.
He reaches into his pocket, ready to grasp the handle of his small and agile Bowie knife.
Mercuria: Put it down, J. Your fight is over.
Team Member I: ?!
Team Member I: This-This is the smoke of burning Mandrake! Cover your nose and your mouth!
Team Member II: Ms. Bouanich, hold your breath. Stay away from the smoke.
But the smoke is already too thick. One by one, they give way, collapsing harmlessly to the ground.
Matilda: Oh, no!
The situation changes in the blink of an eye.
She moves automatically, falling back to the entrance, only to find that the tent has been shut tight.
Matilda: Umm!
J: Hmph.
The bound girl and her "kidnapper" look at each other with disdain, like two squirrels fighting over a chestnut.
Matilda: You should know that kidnapping a Foundation investigator and interfering with an official investigation is a serious crime, especially when you've kidnapped the one and only Matilda Bouanich, a pivotal figure in the St. Pavlov Foundation we're talking about!
J: Pivotal, eh? Ha. A whiny little pup happens to stay standing from a little smoke. Yeah, I don't see anything worth being proud of.
He extends a finger to give the girl's forehead a sharp flick.
As the first approach to an interrogation, it proves surprisingly effective.
Matilda: Hey!
Matilda: Stop it! This is rude and-and indecent!
J: Tell me, did Paulina send you to ask us to sign this bogus confidentiality agreement? Let me guess. She's probably still hiding in the Foundation office, right? Too scared to see her own flesh and blood.
Matilda: What are you talking about? Who's hiding in our office? We're here to bring you and that mannequin back to the Foundation. This is a serious violation of the Visitor's Advisory!
Pioneer: J, I think we should ask this another way: Ms. Bouanich, what proof do you have that Paulina Lesage is dead, as your receptionist claimed?
Pioneer: The photo on the box isn't hers, just some lookalike or airbrush job. So how can we believe anything else you say?
Matilda: ...!
Matilda: You're saying the Paulina you know isn't the same as the one in this photo?
Matilda: ...
J seems so nonchalant, yet his eyes are filled with concern—a gravity reserved only for great love.
Matilda: How can I explain this to you? Please be assured that we have no reason to lie to you at this juncture.
Matilda: Actually, you shouldn't have found out about any of this in the first place.
She falls silent for a long time, pondering how to best express herself.
Matilda: Maybe, I'm not familiar with your Paulina. But I do know that there was a woman at St. Pavlov's named "Paulina Lesage," and I know that she died.
Matilda: As far as the claims of "different photos, mementos," it's complicated, and there is, eh, little I can say freely, but headquarters is working on it and many other similar cases.
Matilda: I don't have the kind of clearance to know what's really going on, and even if I did, I couldn't tell you, for everyone's safety.
He looks entirely unmoved.
J: Ha. So our little prize investigator is also in the dark.
J: Maybe we can just go ahead and jot all these questions down and send them back to the Foundation.
J: Or maybe we set up shop here, just let any old passerby take a good look at them!
He lifts the chair.
Matilda: Hey, wait! Wait a second!
After a moment, the "hostage" looks up reluctantly.
Matilda: I-If I could prove this Paulina of yours is, in fact, deceased ...
Matilda: Then will you come back with us, do the proper paperwork, yes? Then we can be getting out of your hair for good.
With a light tone, she proposes a deal.
Yet all involved suddenly grow hesitant and quiet.
J: ...
Pioneer: The burden of proof lies with you, Special Investigator.
Matilda: Alright. But I will hold you to your word, mannequin. Before we begin, I should say, I don't do this lightly, but if you need to know, don't say I didn't warn you.
She is released from her ropes.
She pushes the others aside, smoothing out the black velvet cloth on the table, before placing a crystal ball in its center.
Matilda: I am a diviner, one that uses crystals. I suspect that sort of practice may already be familiar to you.
Matilda: I'll need an object that symbolizes Ms. Lesa-, Paulina, or something related to her. It must have a deep connection to her, something she once owned or often used.
Matilda: I will then begin my scrying using this object to the fog in my crystal orb and reveal to us her current existence.
Matilda: But if we find nothing beneath the fog, I am quite sure you understand what this means.
Matilda: And then, I will be needing you to return with me.
Matilda: And as I've heard that energy healers are able to detect the flow of pneuma ...
Matilda: The madame here will be able to prove the authenticity of my divination, no?
Mercuria: I'll see it. Yeah, like I saw the arcane energy flowing from your little friend's hand to their wand just now.
Pioneer: J, what do you think of all this?
J leans against the edge of a nearby cabinet, keeping his distance and responding from afar.
J: My sister's little minion back at the Foundation already exposed the lie. Still, seems only fair I get to spy on her back. We'll see who's laughing now, sis.
J: Alright, Frenchie. This is hers. Take it.
A plush teddy bear, its fur now well-worn and patchy.
It is the last thing she had from their parents, and one of the last things he has of hers.
Everything is in place. Matilda eases the tension in her chest with a deep breath.
Matilda: Then let us commence.
Her hands scour the crystal ball as she closes her eyes.
Absent moonlight and tides, her regular breathing becomes erratic under the stress.
But all that is no matter to her. The only thing she has to do is find one person, and she does not even need to find her. Only prove that she exists, or that she does not.
Matilda: Thread that binds all, show me the trace of the one to whom this belongs. I bid you to respond!
The crystal ball emits a faint glow through her fingers.
A heavy mist rises, obscuring the inside of the ball.
J: ...!
Matilda: Lift the fog. Reveal what existence lies hidden from us.
Matilda: Give us your vision. Sight beyond sight!
Matilda: ...
Time passes as the swirling mist slowly, achingly dissipates.
Matilda withdraws her hand from the crystal ball. She silently shifts her eyes away.
The little bear beside her appears to have its eyes fixed on the ball.
J: What, all that and you just stop? This thing busted or something? Nothing happened.
Mercuria: J ...
Mercuria: The divination is over. The energy is gone, just like she said.
J feigns ignorance.
Still, he is far calmer than any thought he should be.
J: You come all this way, for what? Just another Foundation trick?
J: So, what is it this time? Did you mess around with the orb? Some kind of protection skill? I don't have time for these games.
Pioneer: J!
The mannequin's voice is deafening.
Pioneer: It means she's really gone.
Mercuria: Sorry, J.
J: ...
He keeps up his stone-calm face, giving no sign of anger or astonishment.
There is no change in his expression at all.
It is both emotional and emotionless at the same time.
Pioneer: J, are you still with us?
J: Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.
The words hang stiffly on his lips.
J: So I guess it's legit.
He looks into the crystal ball again.
His lips parting, as if wanting to speak, but nothing comes out.
As if wanting to ask a thousand questions at the same time.
He turns his head again, his eyes drifting out to the crowded market, to a girl dancing in the midst of the crowd, a girl adorned with a crown of flowers.
She twirls gracefully.
The crowd applauds, their faces joyful—happy.
He wants to cry, or scream, or even to take that ball in his hands and smash it to pieces.
But he does nothing.
In a swirling storm of grief, despair, and rage, he finds his center.
Unnoticed by any present, a faint crack appears at the base of the crystal ball.
