The sound of scraping metal brings an end to the pumping rock music, painting a look of solemnity and fear on the faces of every guest.
A lithe figure steps gracefully onto the stage.
Ms. Grace: We should raise a toast. One and all.
Ms. Grace: For we're in luck's good graces to be aboard this ship.
Ms. Grace: A ship, hmm, perhaps one ought to think of it more as an ark.
The guests exchange uneasy glances. After a long silence, one guest hesitantly breaks the silence with a question.
Guest I: Just what are you getting at?
Guest II: Oh, I get it! Is this some kind of surprise theme party, like a murder mystery?! Is that right, Ms. Barcarola?
Barcarola looks bewildered. The captain's sudden and strange appearance on the stage was certainly not part of any performance. At least, not one she had prepared.
Barcarola: No, I didn't plan for any of this.
Ms. Grace: You aren't entirely wrong though, Mr. Matthews, for this is certainly a surprise, if not so much a party as a ceremony.
Ms. Grace: Allow me to congratulate you, our honored guests. Each of you, with your unique talents, resources, and powerful connections, have earned a chance to join Manus Vindictae.
Guest II: If this is some kind of joke, Captain, I don't find it funny! So how about you knock it off!
Ms. Grace: There's no joke at all. Unless you plan on throwing away your precious opportunity to join us in the new era.
Guest II: What the hell is that supposed to mean? Have you gone insane!?
In their fear and anger, the guests make to leave, but a young man in a mask swiftly blocks the doorway.
Toa: How dare you blaspheme our savior?!
Selone: Toa, ever since you put on that mask, you've been acting strangely, like a different person.
She can hardly recognize her dear friend at all.
Toa: You're wrong, Selone! I was lost after we left Meli. But now, I've never felt so certain of myself.
Toa: You must ready yourself for the mask trial, too. We must all be willing to sacrifice to bring our people into the new era!
He proudly pounds his chest as he glares disdainfully at the trembling crowd before him.
Toa: As for these ignorant outsiders, hmph, they will never understand the depth of the crimes they've committed or the punishment they deserve!
Kamuta: Calm down, Toa. Don't bother with these outsiders. They only care about themselves.
Kamuta: Only the "Storm" can bring the change we need.
With bizarre masks, fervent prophecies, and the clinking of misshapen shells, they perform their unannounced stage play.
Its "audience" cowers together in fear.
Guest I: Lunatics!
Sonetto: Timekeeper, it seems as though the islanders aboard are working with Manus Vindictae!
Vertin: There's no telling what else the Manus have up their sleeve. We need to call for support as soon as possible.
Sonetto: But our communications are jammed.
Vertin: Regulus, are you able to reach Mr. Ulrich?
Regulus: I should be. I've got no clue where he's at now. He dashed off with the roaring machine, mumbling something about "sound wave frequency" and "nuclide R."
Regulus: Still, I might as well give it a shot, if I can still recall Laplace's internal frequency, that is.
Vertin: Sonetto, we must calm the situation before things escalate further.
Sonetto: On it!
Orders are issued methodically.
Grace watches with interest as a navy top hat moves through the crowd. A gentle smile creeps across her face.
Ms. Grace: Ladies and gentlemen.
Ms. Grace: Perhaps you have yet to understand what the "Storm" really is.
Guest I: No, perhaps we don't. Because I remember what you wrote in all the flyers!
Guest I: The "Free Breeze" is equipped with a double-hull and the most advanced communication systems available, capable of contacting rescue and support under any circumstances.
Guest II: Yeah, and something about a stabilizing system. Why should we be worried about some heavy weather?
Guest II: Or were you lying to us?
Ms. Grace: Oh, the specifications of the ship are all very much true. No natural weather phenomenon could endanger us here.
Ms. Grace: However, the "Storm" I speak of is not a mere matter of churning wind and thunder. And no double-hull nor stabilizing system could stand against it.
Guest I: So, what the hell is this "Storm"?
Ms. Grace: It is a cleansingâa deluge that will come to eradicate all the sickness of this world.
Guests: ...!
Ms. Grace: And an opportunity, a chance to reverse our course. All that is asked of you is an insignificant price.
Guest II: Reverse? Price? What are you talking about?
Ms. Grace: In the '90s, veins turned into wires. In the '80s, skulls turned into geometric shapes. Oh, and the '60s, what fun we had then!
Ms. Grace: The entire world became a pop art spectacle!
Ms. Grace: And Manus Vindictae have seen us through each one, for all these many years.
The crowd's murmuring grows louder and more chaotic.
Guest I: So, you're saying that the world is going to be transformed?
Guest I: And something weird will happen to our bodies, too?
Ms. Grace: You're exactly right.
Guest II: And the Manus were behind all of this? Why?!
Ms. Grace: Now, now, don't be so harsh on us. We've made heroic efforts to cleanse this world of its sickness.
Ms. Grace: But each generation keeps making the same mistakes: economic collapse, environmental crisis, endless wars and bloodshed ...
Ms. Grace: We had no choice. The wounds of this world must be cleansed. One deluge at a time. Now, we are welcoming a new "Storm."
Ms. Grace: One that will reverse us to an even more distant past.
Fear and anger intertwine. The crowd is like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
Guest III: You're a lunatic, Captain. You need your head examined.
Guest III: Lady, you need a psychiatrist!
Guest IV: ...
Guest IV: But these things you're showing us ... they really happened?
Ms. Grace: No need to take my word for it. You will all bear witness to it soon.
The crowd descends into a hushed panic. Every lapping of the waves can be heard amid their almost ghostly murmurs.
This is the perfect moment to calm the crowd.
Vertin: The "Storm" is NOT coming.
Vertin: We are from the St. Pavlov Foundationâ
Vertin: An organization dedicated to the protection and rights of humans and arcanists.
Ms. Grace: Huh.
Guest I: Ah, thank goodness!
Vertin: As the Timekeeper of the St. Pavlov Foundation, I can assure you:
Vertin: What she showed you won't happen here. Manus Vindictae are just trying to manipulate you into buying into their deception and hatred. Don't give in to this false fear!
Vertin: Please, everyone, remain calm.
Another bamboo arrow shoots through the air.
Toa: Protect us? You? Don't make me laugh!
Fatutu doesn't hesitate to stop him.
Fatutu: Toa, wait!
Fatutu: She seems trustworthy. Maybe we should listen to what they have to say.
Toa: Really? You think these people care about rebuilding our home?
Toa: Were they there when Nukutaeao was hit by the great waves? Where was their protection then?
Fatutu: I'm not sure, but I just can't bear the thought that we might make a decision we'll regret later. I don't wanna see any more cracks and scratches on our shells.
Her cries cannot overpower the murmuring of the guests, nor can they quell the rising fury of her kin.
And they certainly cannot stop another poison arrow.
Sonetto: *Ed è sĂźbito seraââďź
Sonetto: This is getting out of hand. Be careful, Timekeeper. They're coming for us!
COMBAT
The hall is in utter disarray.
Labored breathing, sighs, and sobbing blend together like a sickly pot of thick stew.
Fatutu: No. This isn't right.
She wants to say more, but the familiar scent of herbal incense suddenly overwhelms her.
Sleepy Reedsâa herbal anesthetic used by Nukutai priests during surgeries.
Kamuta: I think you need some rest, sister.
Fatutu: ...!
Selone: I'm sorry, Fatutu. This needs to be done.
Selone catches her as she falls unconscious.
The ongoing confrontation on the other side of the hall is evidently far more intense.
Ms. Grace: A fine speech, Ms. Vertin, such delectable righteous indignation.
Vertin: Surrender, Ms. Grace. Your lies will not succeed here.
Ms. Grace: Why, of course. To tell a lie brings the harshest of consequences, even a kindergartener knows that.
Grace surveys the hall. Countless eyes are fixed on her.
Anger, hostility, confusion, disdainâshe has walked through it all before and never left a trace.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Everyone, whenever there's an imminent "Storm," my watch here starts a countdown, but there have been no signs ofâ
Grace places a delicate hand on her raised arm, interrupting her speech.
Ms. Grace: What a coincidence, Ms. Vertin. I so happen to have a similar device myself.
Ms. Grace: ...
Ms. Grace: Three.
Ms. Grace: Two.
Vertin: ...!
Ms. Grace: One.
Vertin: Impossible!
Ms. Grace: Ms. Vertin.
Ms. Grace: As you said, lies will not succeed here. The question is, who here is the liar?
Ms. Grace: Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to relish the sight before you.
Ms. Grace: Here we are ...
Ms. Grace: The last evening on earth.