The stranger studies Marsha again.
Sentinel: He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.
Marsha: Pardon?
Sentinel: You possess remarkable self-control. A trait seldom seen.
A hint of approval, odd and unspoken, leaves Marsha unsure how to react.
Marsha: My thanks. But I have a question.
Sentinel: As I have one for you.
Marsha: Why did you kill the colonel?
Sentinel: Answer me likewise: why did you protect him?
Marsha gestures toward the slope to the row of crude headstones filling the ridge.
Marsha: We're trying to end the war.
Sentinel: And I, as well.
Marsha: You seem to mourn the dead, but you don't realize how far you've set us back? We were nearing a ceasefire.
Petals from pale flowers tumble by in the dry wind.
Sentinel leans forward, gently shielding the flowers from the wind with her cloak.
Sentinel: 6 years, and the war rages still. Do you think ending bloodshed is as simple as to say: 'tis done? Have you any mind of the mission the Foundation pursues here?
Marsha: We know it won't be simple.
Marsha: Yet each side was open to negotiation. That's why they sent ...
Sentinel: Heh.
The chuckle is wry and dark.
Sentinel: You placed false hope on Hirschfelder. You invited a wolf into a bed of lambs.
Sentinel: You think his death to be the spark of a reignited war, but, even if I had stayed my hand from him, your plans would have been for naught.
Sentinel: The Manus scheme and the wicked prosper.
Marsha: ...!
Marsha: Manus Vindictae. You know of their plans? Then, you're claiming that Hirschfelder was a Manus?
She lets the question linger long enough to feel unanswered, then the sniper begins.
Sentinel: He is not one of those devils. He is only one tool of many.
Sentinel: The Manus offer the gifts of Mammon and Asmodeus: greed and destruction. Hirschfelder was tempted by their technologies and became a willing servant in their schemes.
A groan rises up from the horizon, the sound of distant artillery drumming, throbbing like the heartbeat of a wounded beast.
She raises a second finger.
Sentinel: But others serve them unknowing, affected by an arcane skill which clouds their eyes in red mists, driven to blood and glory as a starving dog is to the hunt.
Her eyes shift to the stiff outline of a soldier she knows as Charon.
Sentinel: Your commander, Eberhard Braun, bears that mist.
Charon: ...
It takes a moment for the words to find some impact. When he speaks again, there seems to be a change in his voice.
Charon: Then will you see that death comes to him, as you did Hirschfelder?
Sentinel: That is not yet certain. I do not kill without purpose.
Charon does not seem to find a reply, his mask concealing any trace of emotion.
Marsha: What you just said about the Manus ... Can you confirm any of it?
Marsha: The Foundation could make use of any intelligence you have. We may be able to save these peace talks.
Marsha: But we will need proof.
Sentinel: All is vain. There is nothing new under the sun.
Sentinel: When I told my commander about the Manus, all I received for my effort was scorn. Their eyes were not satisfied with seeing, nor their ears with hearing. Kings and generals yet still turn a blind eye to the suffering.
Sentinel: If they had a shred of the light of God within them, they would never have pursued this war.
Sentinel: As for the Foundation ... That which is crooked cannot be made straight, and what is wanting cannot be numbered. I have no faith in them.
She looks away, pulling her cloak tighter.
Sentinel: That is all I have to say.
Charon: Spare him.
Charon speaks, the change in his voice now more acute, more vivid, and more personal.
Charon: Eberhard Braun. I need you to spare his life.
Sentinel: Neither mercy nor vengeance is mine to give.
"It is officially 1920. I wonder at other people's impressions of this war; from what I've seen, there are two contrasting views—though in various forms—one of heroism and the other, sadness."
"There is one truth which I have found bridges both of these visions, despite how cruel it may sound—'This war is the prelude of a new era.'"
"I have to believe that ... Because if this death and destruction so unparalleled in history does not herald change, then there is no hope for humanity."
Creius: How bleak.
The leader of the "XII" stands on the streets of Montpaix, looking over where Colonel Hirschfelder was killed.
By the time he arrives, all other military forces have withdrawn. Only the Foundation remains on site to guard the ruins of the town.
"Officer": Blackbird, give me a hand.
Merel: As soon as I finish my bread, Beagle.
His team has already begun shoring up the town's defenses. Their line pulled back to just a corner of the street.
Foundation Security Staff : There are 122 armed personnel available at your disposal, sir. 23 of them are arcanists.
Foundation Security Staff : I've brought you their profiles.
He takes the personnel file from the security staff member, eyes shifting toward the makeshift HQ flying the Foundation flag.
Creius: Right then. I'll read through these. Now get back to your position. I need eyes on our command post.
Foundation Security Staff : Yes, sir.
The staff member walks away. And in the same moment, a curiously armored field medic approaches.
Creius: Marsha, is it?
Marsha: You recognize me, Mr. Creius?
Creius: I read your report on my way here. You're the one that encountered our sniper. Twice now, I hear.
Marsha: Correct. I have some additional details about my encounters. The first is that I appear to have been followed out into the forest the first time. I was warned on my device just after the shooting.
Creius: Never mind that. What about the other thing?
Marsha: That doesn't concern you? Fine. The other thing is that I have reason to believe our sniper is a Gargoyle.
Creius: A Gargoyle?
Marsha: There are records of Gargoyles participating in this war as part of arcane skill response units.
Marsha: They're able to petrify their bodies at will, making them immune to small-caliber arms, and I believe they're able to render themselves undetectable.
Creius: Sounds as if you've fought them before.
The assumption pierces her more cleanly than any bullet, but she forces the emotion down, giving an answer as truthful as she can bear.
Marsha: You could say that.
Creius: It would go far to explain how she managed to enter Montpaix without being noticed. I'll have to ask HQ to send us a counter-arcanum device.
Creius: She shot the colonel, but then slipped out, leaving our own agents unharmed. We can't be sure of anything, but we can't rule out that she may possess reliable intel about the Manus.
Rushed footsteps interrupt Creius's thoughts.
???: Mr. Creius?
The newcomer is obviously out of place—the sort of well-dressed that usually comes with fanfare.
Georg: I am Georg Kramer from the Inter-Factional Committee. I've come on behalf of the parliament to start another round of negotiation with the Foundation.
Creius: Didn't you get the message? The parley has been canceled, Mr. Kramer. Seems there's no more room for negotiations.
Creius: My job now is to investigate the possible involvement of Manus Vindictae.
The visitor steps forward. Though he lowers his voice, a trace of urgency and excitement leaks through.
Georg: Precisely what I'm here for, sir.
Georg: We received a warning from the Foundation that Manus Vindictae has infiltrated our armed forces and is attempting to usurp our rightful authority. I am worried this may be true.
Georg: I do not intend to lie, sir; Germany lies on the verge of total collapse. Both politically and rationally speaking, we have no reason to continue this war.
Georg: Yet it seems our army command is out of control; they are determined to drive this war to its bitter end regardless of the misery and death they're causing. And I have reason to believe the Manus are behind it.
Creius: I take it Army Command is not aware of your visit then, Mr. Kramer.
The observation is sharp, to the point, and, quite obviously, correct.
Perhaps to reassert some authority, the man arches his shoulders back, adopting an almost regal pose.
Georg: I represent the majority of the parliament, sir, as well as the office of the Imperial Chancellor.
Georg: We are united now. All we need is some hard evidence.
Georg: If it can be proven to His Imperial Majesty and to the chancellor that Army Command has been infiltrated by this Manus cult, I am certain we will have the authority to end this.
Creius: So, you're asking me to share the result of my investigation to root out the rotten apples in your army.
Georg: I am, sir. We'll do everything we can to restart the parley once we take control.
His head bows deep and serious, though the sudden winter wind tosses his hair and collar out of place.
He pulls in a deep breath.
Georg: And we're willing to reach a ceasefire on certain conditions. I assure you I'm not just saying this because of my stance ...
Georg: For the sake of my country and its people, this war must be stopped.
