Vertin: ...
Vertin: Nothing's happening?
The Hall of Truth is as crowded as ever.
Ideas, noises, and arguments are all crammed into one space.
???: Ms. Vertin, your attention, please!
???: This is a public inquiry, and your answer determines the fate of you and your friends.
???: There will be a vote on your punishment, considering the leak of the island's coordinates and the damages caused by you and Manus Vindictae.
???: Yet, in the past two hours, you've looked at your watch ten times. Forgive me for being blunt. What could possibly bother you more than your sentence?
Vertin: My apologies.
A mocking click of the tongue can be heard from the crowd.
210: Let her look, 888. Doesn't it occur to you that time is also in the form of numbers?
210: Perhaps she's waiting for her lucky number to come.
His words cause a ripple of chuckles throughout the hall.
Clearly, after hours of debate and discussion, this lighthearted moment brings a much-needed sense of relief.
210: Besides, what conclusions have the good people here made?
210: We were brought together in this great hall today, for misfortunes have struck us in the past week: Manus followers were found dead in our sacred place, the Gorgon Current was cut off, and a human army has invaded our land.
210: There were also the territorial disputes, the threats from external powers, and the conflicts between our guests.
210: As you can see, our guests have brought us quite the unexpected "gifts."
210: They will give us their explanations. But whose words should we trust—those of the Foundation, or Manus Vindictae?
He bows slightly, gesturing to the left of the stage.
Vertin: I swear on the Stone of Truth that I have no knowledge of the leak.
Vertin: We never gave any information to the humans. As we speak, the St. Pavlov Foundation is taking measures to mediate the territorial disputes from outside the island.
888: But you did report everything here to the Foundation.
888: And you don't know what they did with the information, do you?
Vertin: Right.
210: A questionable defense, a doubtful explanation. Why should we trust her? We all know that the Foundation is closely associated with the humans.
210: They are the false friends of the arcanists, with their crocodile tears and broken vows. While many may have changed over time, their nefarious human taint lingers.
210: Besides, why should we seek collaboration and assistance from an organization that's seven years behind us on the study of the "Emanation"?
His words evoke a murmur of agreement.
210: But rush not, brothers and sisters! The moment of decision has not yet arrived. Let's give our old friend Manus Vindictae a fair and equal hearing before casting our pebbles into the pot.
He stretches out his right hand, directing the audience's attention across the stage.
On the right, there sits a quiet figure in black and blue.
Arcana: ...
210: Indeed, the Foundation's understanding of the "Emanation" is seven years behind ours.
210: However, our Manus friends here are unable to speak at all, let alone understand complex mathematical principles.
210: Please enlighten us, Ms. Arcana. Why were swaths of your followers found dead at the door of our sacred place?
210: Did our math lessons drive them to madness, causing them to bash their heads against the gate of Truth like martyrs?
Arcana: So it would seem.
Believer II: What?
Her quick and straight answer causes a commotion in the crowd.
Yet she only gently closes the book on her lap, uncaring of the suspicious stares around her.
Arcana: One must confess that our followers were ill-prepared to take on the wisdom of the island.
Arcana: But we didst come seek mutual development with sincerity.
Arcana: I trust you are aware of the assistance we have provided o'er the years in this World of Matters, which you, though reluctantly, relied upon.
Arcana: As to this debate,
Arcana: I was once told a story that now seems fitting to recount.
Her gaze falls on the bench.
The fair-haired judge has not spoken a word since the debate began.
6: Pray, share with us.
Arcana: Thank you kindly.
Arcana: 'Tis the story of the "circle." A young artist told it to me before I arrived on this island.
Arcana: In the ancient past, amid a world of primitive instincts and ignorance, the first intelligent mind awaken'd.
Arcana: Overwhelmed by the enormity of nature and dismayed by its own insignificance, the creature was shaken to its core.
Arcana: In an act of defiance, it drew a magick circle, shielding its powerless self from the formidable world beyond.
Arcana: This was the first magick, when the primitive man mastered the pneuma within and wielded it against the relentless forces of nature.
Arcana: In that process, man hath gained a deeper understanding of the boundaries and limitations of its power.
Arcana: This is the tale of the first "circle."
Arcana: The "circle" shielded us, and its protection benefits thee to this day.
Arcana: What I find intriguing in this story:
Arcana: Man hath established its existence, recognized its boundaries, and learned the purpose of life, all by relying upon this very circle.
Bang!
The hall gate bursts open. The intruder with a small figure leans weakly against the doorframe.
37: panting
Vertin: 37?
All eyes are fixed on the young girl; some have even risen to their feet in surprise.
The leader on the bench breaks the silence.
6: What's wrong, 37?
37: The island ...
Her pale lips tremble, struggling to get the words out.
37: Our island has fallen ill.
Even the slightest sound is gone. An eerie silence descends upon the hall.
Thud!
Another dull, muffled thump, as if something's struck a hard surface.
But it's enough to get the rest of the crowd to their feet. They look up at the roof—the thud came from up there.
Thud, thud thud thud!
More thumps follow.
It's as if the hall has turned into a drum, with an out-of-control drummer playing frantically on the dome.
Believer IV: Argh, what is going on?!
Believer IV: Is that a hailstorm?
Sophia: No, I don't think so.
Standing outside the gate, the numberless Corrector looks up at the sky.
Being barred from entering the hall, she can see better from where she stands.
Sophia: Those are Abraxases,
Sophia: falling from the sky.
Vertin: ...!
Another look at the watch—it's become something of a habit over the last few hours.
This is it. The long-anticipated moment has finally arrived.
Vertin: It's the "Storm."
Vertin: The "Storm" of this era is here.
