Font of All Waters

And that was exactly what it did. One moment, he was running to the hilichurl camp. The next, he was thrown into a churning whirlpool of dark water, unable to tell up from down as he struggled to hold onto consciousness. Weapons and debris flew past him, and though the edges of his vision darkened, he witnessed how the water dissolved their enemies right before his eyes. Then through the foam and bubbles, something grabbed his arm, and before he could strike out with his other one thinking this was one of the monsters trying to find safe harbor, they were out.

Wriothesley staggered on his own two feet for a moment. He could handle this, especially when he'd gone to such lengths to make sure Neuvillette wouldn't worry about putting his life in danger. But the world still spun around him despite being free of the whirlpool, and despite his best effort to compose himself, he dropped to one knee, coughing and spitting out water.

"... Haven't been hit like that in a while," he finally said to test his own voice. It came out still somewhat strangled. Was he alright? He thought so, all things considered. He was alive, and although bedraggled and soaked to the bone, the worst he'd gotten was a nick across the face. And a cut across the arm from something that had hit him in the water, which he only noticed when he looked down at the hand he'd caught himself with and saw that his knuckles were drenched in filmy red. The gash was the worse between the two, but it was the water that was making it run blood down the length of his bicep, down his forearm and all the way to the ground, where it started staining the grass and dirt.

"I hope we got all of them. As much as I like a good swim, I don't think I can hold my own in rainstorm like that again anytime soon."

Delivered in his usual inappropriate levity, Wriothesley sought to use it to hide the way he winced when he finally managed to push himself back up to his feet. That was a bruise in the making, he was sure. Maybe he'd gotten knocked around a little more than he'd first thought, now that the adrenaline was ebbing away.

As he stood, wicking the blood-tinged water from his shoulder, he turned to admire the newly-formed lake shimmering beneath the setting sun. A few hilichurls bobbed in the water face-down, but there were no sign of the monsters they'd sought to drown. With that thought, Wriothesley frowned.

Of course, earlier today, the Duke saw him struggling as well. He supposed that, if one cared for such things, it made the two of them even.

"I hope to never have to expose you to something like this ever again," he admitted, extending his hand towards Wriothesley and calling the Hydro gathered on his skin and clothes towards himself. Like that, the man drenched to the bone a moment ago was suddenly dry, the water gathered instead in a bubble floating above Neuvillette's palm - before he, somewhat nonchalantly, dropped it to the ground next to him.

"Do you have anything to patch that up?" He asked, gesturing with his head towards the gash on the other's arm, before sighing quietly. "If Sigewinne finds out, I don't know which one will be in more trouble between the two of us."

It was an attempt, even if poor by Neuvillette's own evaluation, to lighten the mood a little with a pointed remark of his own to at least try and keep up with Wriothesley - even if he understood that he never could really match a human in the art; at the same time, he huffed at his own words as he came to realize that there might be more truth in them than he originally thought. Oh well. He had never received an earful from Sigewinne that was not deserved.

Finally, to the Duke's observation, he shook his head after a moment of silent deliberation.

"If any somehow survived, I would be able to sense it through Hydro. Right now, there is nothing living in that body of water. I'm also not sensing anything in the area."

Following Wriothesley's gaze towards his handiwork, for lack of a better term, he winced lightly. If the lake remains, then in time, life and nature will find proper ways to claim and fill it. As for them...

Neuvillette had selected a fine valley for their plans, and Wriothesley couldn't complain about the walk either. At the far end from the mountains that the Iudex had set up as his post, the hills rose up sharply to form the edges of a kind of natural basin. The place had probably been a lake once upon a time, or even a manmade pond, which meant that it would hold enough water to cover a full grown man standing at its lowest point. The key, of course, was to get their targets to the the deepest part before the flood, which just so conveniently happened to be marked by the curling black smoke of a hilichurl campfire.

So far though, there were no signs of rifts or destruction, or even the little balls of energy Neuvillette had called their scouts. Until, at last, Wriothesley's eyes caught the blue glow of something nestled within the branches of a bulle tree. He pivoted on his heel and ran his fingers through his hair as he approach its trunk.

"Hiding from someone?" he asked with the same kind of playful levity Neuvillette probably wouldn't have chided him for. His life was on the line; he should be more serious about that. But seriousness had a way of doubling as a tell for fear, or recognition for an opponent's strength, of which Wriothesley would give these creatures neither. Right on cue, the scout flashed and its silver parts expanded. Then the same beam as before, a vertical slice from the base of the tree skyward - Wriothesley expected it this time and sidestepped it.

"Same old tricks, huh?" he kept prodding, readjusting his tie. He didn't even know if these things had intelligence, or if there was even anything watching him from the other side, but then, just like before, a dark, jagged line ripped zigzagged through the air, ripping open space to a swirling abyss that spilled armor-clad humanoids out into the Fontainian sunset one after the other.

Wriothesley flashed them a cocky smile. "Now we have a party."

Crystalline ice shot up from the ground in front of them - three whole shots from his mitts on a warm day like this one, and even that wouldn't last very long. Still, it was enough for him to get some distance. That rift had opened too close to him for comfort, and now he hopped backwards step by step toward the sharp incline down into the valley basin with his gloves drawn up close to his chin. Neuvillette would have been able to see him the moment he reached the top, then he turned to take the rest of the slope down facing forward while the monsters followed after him like lemmings lead to their demise.

Suddenly another rift opened right in front of him and a silver blade shot out. Startled, Wriothesley's backstep sent gravel skittering down the hill, but he fired another icicle into the ground in the same motion. It shattered upon impact and the blade-armed humanoid crashed toward him with a fiery sputter of garbled fury.

"Oh? Looking for a rematch?" As much as Wriothesley forced the smirk to stay on his face, his words came out winded as he tried to regain his footing, dancing between thrusts from the creature's blades. Others crested the hilltop, these brandishing guns and blades of their own, and if there was a split second of doubt that he might have bitten off more than he could chew by playing the decoy, Wriothesley shut that thought right up.

"Alright, Neuvillette..." he muttered through his teeth as he horde drove him further down into the valley on the defensive. Gun blasts exploded near enough to singe the ends of his hair and splash slaps of red across the side of his face, but he dipped and dodged, albeit narrowly, around every attack thrown at him.

Then the hilichurls yowled out their hunting cries.

As such, the moment the figures came into his view, he abandoned it, closing his eyes instead to focus. The Duke went to great lengths and pains to carry out this plan - he had to ensure he fulfilled his part well to make that effort worth it. The timing had to be right, and the balance of elements, too, must be maintained; even that brief moment when the dragon's fury would reign over the area had to be controlled.

He did not move as the air danced and whistled anxiously, disturbed by the swirling foreign blades.

Not yet.

He did not move as the sound of the rushed steps reached further and further down into the valley.

Not yet...

He did not move - save from a light frown flashing through his face - as his emotions resonated with a distant, brief sensation of pain coming from Wriothesley, when the Duke took a light slash to his face.

Not yet—

And then his companion reached his destination, his pursuers still hot on his trail, and the hilichurls took the bait as well, yowling in fury—

and in that same moment, Neuvillette looked into the sky as though in a challenge, his eyes alight, and commanded his mental barriers to let go.

Within the blink of an eye, the warm sun vanished as though scared off, eclipsed by a thick layer of dark clouds manifesting out of thin air and covering the area in darkness. What fell from those clouds in the next instant was not rain. Not even a downpour. It was a river's worth of water slamming into the valley in a matter of seconds, snapping trees and drowning everything in its path. Immediately, the otherwordly noises went from fury to panic, the hilichurl yowls turned into disordered screams, and all heads vanished beneath the deluge.

It was a spectacle that would likely remind Fontaine's ancient tribes why they thought his kind to be ruthless monsters, had they been unlucky enough to witness it. It would go on to claim all lives in the valley, save for the heavens' - and the dragon's - chosen one.

Neuvillette watched the devastating outcome of his verdict in cold silence for a moment, before flying towards the newly born lake and diving in like a hunting bird. The bodies of the already dead hilichurls floated limp in the dark azure, while the hands and blades of some of the still living invaders from beyond reached towards the surface and him in vain desperation, but the Iudex paid attention to none of them. Almost immediately, he spotted Wriothesley and swam towards him; reaching out, he grabbed his arm, and warped them both out of the water and to the surface.

By the time they both stood again on solid ground, on the edge of one of the hills overlooking the area, the dark clouds had already vanished as though they had never been there to begin with, and the sun re-emerged, permitted to cast its warm rays over the area once more.

Were it not for the large body of water where there was dry ground only a minute or so ago, one would be excused for thinking it was all just a dream.

"I'll have you as backup, won't I?" he asked instead. Another trust fall, just like the one with the ruin guards. The Iudex - no, Neuvillette hadn't let him down then, Wriothesley trusted his judgement all the more now.

"A few hilichurls won't be a problem if the water comes down fast enough. I'll be able to hold them off for a little bit until our rift-hopping friends get into position. Might even hurry them along if they want my head for themselves." Despite his best effort hardening his expression, playfulness still colored his voice. It was a way to keep things feeling not as serious as they were, and that was the way Wriothesley often approached anything that put his life at risk. It helped with the nerves not to think about it too hard. He'd have to do it either way, because this was more than just a headache he and Neuvillette set out to dispatch of this afternoon - it affected all of Fontaine.

Resolutely, he held out his hand to help Neuvillette up to his feet again, sealing their plan to set it in motion.

Were someone to ask, the Iudex would have had to admit that he did not recall when he last received something like that. It was rare, and rather unusual for him. Of course, he was aware by now that he commanded a good amount of trust within Fontaine - or, at the very least, that was the opinion he had heard from others - but the mindset of an outsider died slowly and stubbornly, and within his heart, he never truly stopped believing that he was first and foremost seen as a means to an end.

Wriothesley did not even need to come here, he reminded himself. And he could not have received a clearer message that the Duke intended to stick through it until the very end.

Naturally, the spirit of justice and fairness dictated that he deserved the very same in return. But Neuvillette was fully intent on offering that even if they did not.

"Of course," he responded, a newfound stirring of resolve present again in his voice, as he took the hand held out to him.

---

The warm afternoon was slowly but surely giving way to a still warm evening, the sun moving beyond the horizon to make room for the moon. Or whatever that large sphere was that the Usurper put up there in its place, but he supposed it filled the spot well enough for humanity's purposes. This would normally be the kind of day Neuvillette would spend taking care of some duties ahead of time in his office, or at most, watching a play at the Opera. It was not to his satisfaction when it came to outdoor activities.

But today, he did not get to choose based on his frivolities. There was a task to focus on.

Concealed between two walls of the nearby mountain, he watched, eyes fixed on the valley ahead and below. Soft breeze passed through it, rows of flowers and tall grass swaying gently in response. Leafy branches, too, hummed a quiet song to Barbatos' tune. A group of four hilichurls idled in the area, cooking food over a fire; even they played into the calmness and serenity of the area.

Neuvillette knew, however, that it was merely a calm before the storm - a storm that he silently waited to unleash.

He glanced in the direction from which he expected the heralds of chaos to come, reminding himself of the words he spoke to Wriothesley in preparation.

The time we spent regrouping was most likely enough for them to return to patrols. Those monsters do not allow themselves long breaks from sowing destruction - it's their purpose.

The scout will probably be the first unit you run into again. I expect they will remember you - use that to anger them and draw them here.

She just barely took the first bite when her eyes met with an ever so familiar pair. Eyes that even she sometimes felt nervous looking into. Neuvillette. She almost thought she was seeing things. He had to be dragged out of the office most times. Yet here he stood, looking at Furina the same way she was looking at him. Quickly, she sat up straight and wiped a stray crumb from her lips.

The cake would just have to wait.

She almost wanted to giggle at the stiffness of his words. “I cannot believe my eyes! Fontaine’s Iudex, out of his office? I might faint!” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic manner.

Taking said hand off her face, she adjusted her hat. “Although I must say I’m disappointed you didn’t notify me of your day off. I would have bought you a glass of water to enjoy with me.” She sighed. “Another day perhaps. Regardless, what are you doing out of the office? I don't see a melusine with you. A pressing matter or did you finally realize that you need breaks like the rest of us?” Furina knew as well as anyone that Neuvillette would rarely, if ever, take a break on his own. But a little joke wouldn’t hurt, no?

“Ah! I can’t believe I didn’t ask if you wanted anything to eat! No, no. I insist you eat! Would you like a baguette or perhaps some cake? Their cake here is to die for. But again, isn’t all cake?” Furina giggled at her own words.

Once upon a time, he thought he found her energy overwhelming, maybe even annoying. That was, until that fateful day came - that one trial, and all that occurred after - and he found himself speaking to a broken shadow, which at that point was all that was left of her. In those five hundred years, that may have been the most unnerving conversation he had ever had, what with the way it felt like talking to a ghost.

"I'm glad you're in high spirits," was all he said out loud instead of all those disorganized thoughts, taking a seat by the same table. "I'll pass on the cake for now, thank you. I'll just have some water."

Behind them, the waiter - who had been staring at him just as intently as everyone else - already heard his request and rushed off to prepare it. Neuvillette shook his head lightly in faint amusement, but otherwise, paid it little mind. Before long, his cup arrived, and he took it up, also gesturing lightly to Furina, so that she would feel free to keep eating.

Her jesting, as ever, was met with an expression carved in stone and an even voice stating facts as if they were the most natural thing in the world. "Today's day off was not planned. Sedene came in, realized I'd worked through the night, and threw me out. I am not allowed to return for at least six hours."

Not that Sedene actually had the authority to order him around, and between her, Neuvillette and Furina, they all would know that. But, again, who was he to distress his daughter, so more often than not, she easily got him to relent. And if he tried to protest, a simple "I'm going to tell Sigewinne about this!" did the trick.

(He truly was hopeless before them, was he.)

... he frowned briefly to himself as he suddenly found himself forced to make calculations in his mind.

... months?

... Alright, so maybe a little longer than he had originally thought, then, but, still... not all that long. As far as he was concerned, anyway. Then again, the fourteen hours he worked without a break was also not long for his standards - he had all the time in the world, after all. Sedene was certainly not interested in hearing that, though, and he was not about to upset his daughter. So, there he was.

He was just about to pass by the Café Lutece when his attention was drawn by a very characteristic and very familiar blue hat. Indeed, there she was, Miss Furina, sitting in the café and enjoying her cake. Some things truly never changed.

... Come to think of it, when he last saw her, was she not doing the same thing?

In that moment, she raised her head from the plate, and Neuvillette felt their eyes met. He gave her a light smile and nod in greeting, and, well... it would be a little rude to simply leave now, would it. Even if he did not want to interrupt her. With that in mind, he walked past the hedges and into the café garden.

"Good morning. I hope you've been well."

Here, the nosy eyes of lawyers, journalists and other souls too curious for their own good can never reach him, for he has far more experience and practice in the art of vanishing from their sight than they can ever hope to have in their ways of snooping around.

Idle steps, taken with little consideration for the eventual destination - for it matters little to him in the end - lead him to Morte region, north of Poisson and, as he comes to slowly realize, towards the Statue of the Seven situated near the area where the Tower of Ipsissimus used to loom. The massive monument rests at the bottom of the sea now, serving a new role as an addition to his realm, and a home to creatures of the depths, big and small alike. Of course, its disappearance from the horizon has attracted some attention from the locals and adventurers alike, their curiosity sometimes healthy, sometimes less so; he silently allowed a few to explore and leave with empty hands, and had the Gardes chase away some others due to disturbance of peace. Over time, interest slowly but surely died down, and the thrill seekers moved on to other things, for human attention does not tend to stick around for long.

... Evidently, however, at least some interest has remained, and admittedly in a place Neuvillette did not exactly expect. For as he approaches the edge of the peninsula, he just so happens to meet eyes - or at least that is how it feels, for the other's face is covered by a mask - with a curious individual.

His senses immediately tug at him. He has heard of him. He recognizes something about his power. And he knows that outfit.

To be fair, he had a reason. To forget and mess up was only human, and he had grown to understand that long ago, but…

“… Please let Mr. Marquez know that I’m going to let him off the hook this one time – he is young and inexperienced, and this case was perhaps beyond him. But to neglect to check the defendant’s background and diplomacy status is a juvenile mistake that I sincerely hope to never see made again. The feedback notes I am sending him are to be analyzed and sent back to me with a signature, as confirmation that he has read them.”

Already while he was speaking, his fingers typed up a new form on the typewriter from memory. Once it was ready, he pulled it out of the machine, gave it a look, and with a nod to himself, signed and stamped it, before handing it over to one of the Gardes standing before him. The man took the paper, saluted and ran out. The other officer stood still before him, waiting for further instructions.

“Has Mr. Ragnvindr arrived yet?”

“Yes, Monsieur. He’s been escorted to the Palais, and is now waiting outside the office.”

Ah, that was efficient at least. Neuvillette nodded. “Bring him in.”

The woman nodded and stepped out of the office, already speaking with someone still invisible at the door. Before long, the Iudex stood up in greeting, as was only polite.