Let us come together to form trust as a tether,
Because broken your heart may be, that mend could make it all the more better.
***
Kal'tsit's eyes trailed elsewhere, expression unreadable. "Doctor, before we further this topic, I would preferably like to discuss something else. It would still be in relation to this... Schutzstaffel you've so intricately crafted."
Jugram, standing by the window, turned his head to regard her. "I have the patience to wait a thousand years. Speak."
"The examination prior to yesterday," Kal'tsit brought up, ignoring his "hyperbole."
"What does it concern?" Jugram asked.
"You omitted details that would have been important." She traced her thumb across the mug's handle. "Or, should I say you deliberately withheld information about the matter—when your input and knowledge would have been crucial."
"Important details such as...?"
"Your 'Arts' Unit Medallion. Usage of 'Arts' despite inexperience. Heart problems in the form of cardiac arrests."
"The results of your—and Warfarin's testing—didn't indicate such findings for cardiac issues, now did they?" Jugram boredly glanced to the side with a counterpoint.
"That's the complication, and you are absolutely cognizant of it, Doctor. Do not attempt to fool or deceive me." She glared. "Discrepancy between results and testimonies. There is something indubitably erroneous with how your supposed 'Arts' performs that wasn't shown during the examinations."
His gaze fixated itself back on her. "In relation to its abilities, or its side-effects?"
"Both," she declared. "They are not Arts. I will not entertain any assertion that claims otherwise. The debilitating effects pertaining—potentially pertaining—" she corrected "—to your health are also nothing to overlook. It doesn't help that the results are... skewed? Altered? In some unforeseen manner."
Jugram held himself back from sighing. "And you presume I know the root cause of such inconsistencies and discrepancies?"
"I never claimed as much."
"You certainly imply as much."
"You and I both know well enough that seeking answers from an amnesiac is counterproductive," Kal'tsit brought forth a piece of her rhetoric—logos.
He quickly understood it. "...Ah, continue where you left off before. I already see why you've wanted me to come here."
"That is, to shed light on your actions." A nasty look she gave him. "Nothing more. Nothing less. Please refrain from being silent in regards to withholding crucial information."
"..." Jugram slanted his head to the side, as if ushering the woman to continue.
"Rhodes Island necessitates trust. Especially given the diverse factions of Operators present on this very landship." Kal'tsit set down her coffee mug, crossing her arms. "From what I see, Doctor, this Schutzstaffel would not persist well under your command, as you are not a trustworthy individual."
Without hesitation, he spoke, "Neither are you."
She kept silent, furrowing her brows.
"Loyalty and trust are of great importance. Denying such a notion would be a fool's bargain." Jugram turned to the window, shifting back on topic. "They function well, but they are not a necessity, that is where you are incorrect, Dr. Kal'tsit. However, that does not mean I will haphazardly establish an elite force without begetting loyalty first. "
"How would you bring forth this loyalty, then?"
"There has to be a focus for this loyalty to be condensed into. A container of sorts, wherein a label fits this need. The Schutzstaffel is supposed to act as this label, and the greatest place to earn loyalty is amongst the blade-ridden sands of the battlefield, where camaraderie is born amongst shared endeavors. Forming the Schutzstaffel early would fill this mold the quickest."
Kal'tsit clicked her tongue—silently. "Where have I heard this before? Labels, titles..." Her thoughts ran back to his words, focusing on a single, centralized word: Battlefield.
Battlefield.
Battlefield.
Battlefield.
It was war where his detachment and apathy became the most prominent, sacrificing unneeded factors without a glance. To reap the end result of Her Majesty's victory, forged in steel and blood. Until he faltered.
Jugram side-eyed Kal'tsit, taking note of her brief pause. His mind dialed back in that brief lapse, to his time in the battlefield.
It was when he had become the most cruel to his subordinates, executing them on the basis of treason and treachery whether it was veracious or not. To reap the end result of His Majesty's satisfaction, forged in silver and blood. Until he faltered.
He shook his head, casting off those thoughts as mere husks. Before he could speak, the Feline had already beaten him to it.
"I am under the assumption..." Kal'tsit drew out "...That even if I were to deny your request, you would still proceed with this Schutzstaffel's establishment in an unofficial capacity—even if not in name." Her words held confidence, as if she were reading off a scholarly thesis or research paper.
"I will neither confirm nor deny such a claim."
"Your ambiguity is not comforting."
"Was it ever meant for comfort?" Jugram said, seeing the Feline stand up from her desk, meeting him closer to eye-level.
"Then tell me, what do you truly intend with this Schutzstaffel of yours?" Her direct confrontation, a guided blade with a foreseen path.
He had been waiting for this. "A specialized, superior force. One which can stand against entire armies wrought by the fires of war. Does that not sound tantalizing?"
Jugram remembered it. The Envoy of God morphed into something so utterly sublime it surpassed all mortal flesh and viscera. Lille Barro, The X-Axis, was one of the ultimate martial prowesses the Wandenreich possessed. He would see to it that another Masterpiece was made in such an image.
The Sternritter Grandmaster continued, "'The fortress falls before the soldiers do.' Have you ever heard of such a saying? That is the loyalty they will hold to our cause with the substantial stature they are bound—destined even—to achieve."
"...I will not condone militarized reverence, Doctor." A burning venom sizzled underneath her tongue.
"I am offering you a steel spine." Upon a silver platter, no less. The last part he left unsaid.
"A brittle one from what I am hearing.." Kal'tsit walked closer to Jugram who was beside the window with thumping steps. "Are you attempting to fashion extreme loyalists for Rhodes Island? Fanatics?" She was in front, glare prominent as she sized him up.
"..." For a moment, the blonde-haired man reconsidered his own intentions when hearing her words, staring her straight in the eye.
"Would this sort of structure not incite a degree of mindless self-abandon amongst the ranks? And will they be loyal to you, or to Rhodes Island?" she demanded.
"To the ideal of Rhodes Island which aligns with my own."
"Another conveniently vague answer. I've already expected as much," she said flatly. "You are playing with something utterly volatile. Do you even realize this?"
Jugram kept himself plain. "Volatility is a component I can confidently control."
Kal'tsit breathed out, exasperated. "My stance has already become clear enough to you, and to me." Unceremoniously, and bluntly, she said, "I reject this proposal, Doctor."
Jugram watched her turn around, away from his face, and move back to the desk. She sat on the office chair once more, reaching for something inside one of her cabinets—an object which he discerned to be a stamp. Most likely one for denial. Or, in fact, it was guaranteed to be one of denial. Any predictions otherwise would be foolish.
Taking in a deep breath, he attempted one last maneuver. It was a make or break situation.
"Before you formally deny it with a physical mark." Jugram's words caused Kal'tsit to pause. "What changes to the proposal would incentivize you to assent?"
Kal'tsit stared at him unnervingly. "What do you think?"
The blonde-haired man hummed. "Your denial over the proposition stems from the fact I hold authority over the Schutzstaffel. Is that correct?"
She didn't object. Underneath that non-objection, was enough to tell Jugram everything that he needed to know, and hold full faith in what he was about to suggest.
"As you were before—you hold not even a candle of trust my way. Then, If you're so fretful in respect to the power structure, and my potential influence to it, then you could hold a portion of authority over the Schutzstaffel."
Kal'tsit sighed, setting the stamp down in its place before crossing her arms. "I believe I should bring up that Elite Operators are already an existing concept and professional rank within Rhodes Island. I would much rather reinforce walls that we currently have rather than reconstruct new ones with... pebbles."
Jugram was already aware. "Do the Elite Operators serve a specific need?"
"Of course they do—"
"A specific singular need that can be distinguished, rather than one that holds them in a position that can be interpreted in broader senses."
"They serve their purpose." Kal'tsit kept herself firm. "A purpose I doubt your Schutzstaffel would be able to replace or trample over with their supposed 'superiority'."
Jugram's eyes half-lidded. "...Did that purpose they uphold stop Rhodes Island's predecessor from falling?"
The Feline paused, barely reining in wide eyes.
A stagnant air overtook the office, wrapped and closed by steel wires, to the point where it was almost choking. For the two adamant figures present, it didn't matter much. It never did.
"How did you come to know this?" Kal'tsit demanded, glare thinner, a dash of emotion conceivable.
"I'm sure the informant would desire to keep their anonymity." Jugram rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
A list of names ran through Kal'tsit's head of who could have informed the 'amnesiac' of such a thing, along with the fact the Doctor could not possess amnesia in the first place. Second: implausible, first: potentially Ace.
Jugram cleared his throat to bring the woman out of her intense rumination. "Based on this facet of information, lack of security is indeed a concern that is not misconstrued."
The Feline took in a slow and measured breath, letting all vices fade away and dispel for the necessary moment. "We have learned from our mistakes. I can assure you, whole-heartedly, that I have ample means of keeping security in Rhodes Island—"
"Is that why you've had a shadow trail me in recent times?"
"..." Kal'tsit grew irritated like a budding sprout with the many times she had been cut off.
"I'm willing to swiftly let the matter go. It's a good reminder to keep my senses keen." Jugram waved her off, unabashed—something Kal'tsit did not like. "But we're drifting from the topic, Dr. Kal'tsit. So let us conclude this..." His voice grew thin, eyes peering from the shroud of his blonde silks "...I will present my ultimatum. If you deny the proposal I have presented you, then I will put no effort in honing the Operator of Rhodes Island's skills."
She—for a fraction of a second—instantaneously discerned the meaning from his conviction. "Are you implying you have some infallible means of honing them in the first place?" His attitude certainly worked well in stoking the flames of conflict, enough for the heat to blister her nerves.
Jugram smiled. "Of course. What do you think my Arts—"
"They're not Arts," she interrupted, unwanting of his lies.
"...Ability, pertains to?" He shut his eyes, almost peeved. "Certainly, the report you received from Dobermann, Nearl, and Ace should have touched on the matter." He reopened them, and clarity returned.
"Balance between misfortune and fortune." Kal'tsit thinned her eyes into disks. She hadn't decided to call the blonde-haired Doctor to her office yesterday as she scoured through databases relating to the Sarcophagus and the Doctor. It all happened when she learnt he had developed a form of power that was completely unexpected—and she had briefly entertained the idea of sending herself or Ascalon to the confines of Chernobog to investigate the Sarcophagus more in detail.
I should have known there was something truly amiss when he waltzed into the landship with a sword in tow. The Feline bitterly thought. Too focused on unnecessary details such as his attire. What kind of new personality did you develop over your amnesia, Doctor? She mentally scowled at him.
Jugram responded, "Indeed, that is what my ability is, and what do you believe that entails?" He kept himself as vague as possible, leading Kal'tsit to form her own conclusions. You are a smart woman, Dr. Kal'tsit, so tell me.
"...You can redistribute fortune and misfortune to bolster the capabilities of our Operators," Kal'tsit concluded. "Enhancement, if you will." She didn't know in full how it could work, but the fact it was able to split a Catastrophe was enough for her to not make light of the idea.
"A permanent one to boot, my ability possessing the potency to turn floundering fish into bright geniuses." A smirk almost broke way across his lips when the Feline reacted with skepticism. It didn't matter, she had been diverted enough.
"Evidence?" She remained skeptical, knowing the Doctor had only possessed the ability for at most a day or two, and with very limited time to experiment with it.
"Operator Jessica. Check the Training Room records."
Kal'tsit scrunched her brows, rummaging through her cabinets once more, pulling out a tablet which she pressed a few times. Scrolling through the device a few more times, her eyes narrowed as her eyes swiftly dashed over text, pupils dilating when she had come to see what the blonde-haired man had been implying.
With a tinge of hesitance, the Feline read it out. "...Operator Jessica, first place in public rankings for ranged accuracy by a sizable margin." A testimony had been given to her. "Did you do this, Doctor?" She turned his way, but would not receive a response—for he was already aware she knew it was from his results.
At that very moment, the Sternritter Grandmaster pressed, "Answer me. Would you wish for me to sit upon an office chair, issue orders as incompetent Operators die on the battlefield, sacrificed as pawns would?"
Kal'tsit could see the faint aggression burning from his eyes, causing her to grow wary. "What are you attempting to say?" She creased her forehead, annoyed. "That you won't utilize this ability of yours to create 'competent' Operators as per your standards if this proposal is refused?"
"You've guessed correctly, Dr. Kal'tsit." That was the dealbreaker for him. "There is an incentive and drive for everything. If you do not trust in me to create this elite squadron—with you as an overseer—then there is no need for me to reciprocate anything. The scales, simply, are not Balanced."
She resisted the urge to pinch her nose. "...Does this stem from spite?"
"Please, I am not so impudent as to hold spite as a motive," Jugram scoffed. "The Schutzstaffel is nothing redundant in the grand scheme of Rhodes Island's paramilitary structure. It will bring results. It will grant this organization the fighting force it needs without compromising its mask nor purpose." He took in a short breath. "I am performing all the arduous labor in its establishment, purpose, and need. By all means, you lose nothing from this. "
Kal'tsit remained silent, letting him continue as she crossed her arms and closed her eyes, a contemplative demeanor held. You set this so I would potentially lose something from my refusal. Her eyes grew grim. No matter who you are, you remain the same.
"My competence shouldn't be in question either. I spearheaded the Operation in Chernobog to its best conclusion, even with not a modicum of awareness of the situation at first. From that, you can see I am capable of mitigating losses, and in tandem, bolster results. If you do not trust me, then trust in the results, Dr. Kal'tsit."
Her index finger tapped her desk restlessly. My choice still—
"I had already promised to Amiya I would act in accordance with Rhodes Island's needs."
She paused, eyes peering open as she looked at him.
Jugram recalled the paperwork he had read over yesterday, using its contents to further his message. "And as it stands, Rhodes Island's needs—as it is stepping into the domain of war to uphold its purpose—necessitates my involvement. This Schutzstaffel is all I ask for to realize this need most efficaciously."
Kal'tsit's jaw tensed, bones tight. "Insufferable." Whether it was before his supposed or amnesia, or after, the damnable Doctor was insufferable.
On instinctual etiquette, he responded, "Thank you." It granted him a deadpan from Kal'tsit, before she sighed—putting it behind her.
"As you have brought Amiya up... Loathe as I am to concede, Amiya holds you closer to her heart." Kal'tsit blankly said, not a hint of emotion crack through. "She is most impressionable towards you. That which you do not pursue or choose not to address, Amiya will wordlessly follow it, believing you to hold a most salient purpose underneath it all."
Jugram tilted his head, neutral, wondering what she was attempting to convey.
"You have already disappointed me many times, Doctor." Kal'tsit bit. "Don't disappoint Amiya." She closed her eyes, finally coming to a decision.
"...I will take such a revelation into account." Jugram kept her words in mind. All of them. "Have you made your choice, then?"
"I have. You've convinced me," she confirmed, albeit with an undertone of sarcasm. "If you do not manifest acceptable results with your Schutzstaffel, then don't be astonished if it is abolished." Kal'tsit—resignedly—placed the denial stamp back in its place, reaching for a differently labeled one. "I expect many things, Doctor."
"Acknowledged." For a thousand years, he had not disappointed God. Failure was never an option, so he would not fail now amongst mortal affairs.
Another stamp was brought out. "When the time comes where I look back to this, I pray it won't be one of disappointment." She glanced up at him for a brief moment, before she pressed the stamp down firmly. It met with the paper firmly, a sticking sound being heard, before she lifted up. Green, faded text in a broken-lined box was seen.
'APPROVED'
A gamble on the cosmos.
"Schutzstaffel, hm?" Kal'tsit placed the stamp back in its place. "Leithanian for Protection Squadron. You've always held a penchant for Leithanian culture, holding it close to your heart."
Jugram raised an eyebrow. He attributed her words to this body's previous inhabitant's interests in culture. Leithanian. I assume it is this world's variant of German.
She pulled out a pen, writing her signature on one of the boxes and setting it down with a thump. "Perhaps it is because of your name and surname. But it does not matter." A folder was then brought out, her hands placing the pale sheets inside. "I will bring this up to the HR Department to see it formally instituted, and a message will be sent to all active Operators of its establishment. The rest is up to you, Doctor."
Jugram nodded, listening to her words. Though he should feel satisfied with the results, it simply felt as if it were a usual business dealing. Nothing to be overtly celebratory about.
"You may begin preparations for recruitment, training, and integration. I expect reports weekly, fortnightly at most." Kal'tsit's tone remained steady. "And I will be the filter that accepts or denies who is allowed in the Schutzstaffel amongst the individuals you choose. No exceptions."
He finally spoke, "You drive a hard bargain, but that does not matter at this moment. I won't be troublesome over those trivialities."
"Good. Be troublesome, and the leash tightens." She moved across the room after stepping up from her chair, going to one of the walls which held cabinets meant for files. "You have access to all Operator Files. Whether they be public or private—your authority covers both portions. Amongst them, you can find potential candidates, but of course, not everybody would fit your needs."
He blinked. "You're quite prepared, no?" The sudden turn the Feline took had almost baffled even him. Weren't you supposedly adamant with your refusal before?
"Everything was prepared in advance when Amiya had decided to wring you out of the confines of Chernobog as the deciding vote. I just didn't expect it would be provided for your—our—Schutzstaffel." Kal'tsit set the file she signed into its rightful place, shutting the cabinet before drifting way back to her desk.
"...I believe this conversation is not over yet."
"Then let's segue into our next topic." Kal'tsit cleared her throat. "We've already discussed a small portion of why I had brought you here, which pertained to your ability and your examination results. Now, I wish to talk about what the former has done."
Jugram would not mince words. "Yes, it split a Catastrophe."
"So you admit it."
"What use is there in denying it? You were already informed by either Operators present in Chernobog."
Kal'tsit's finger drummed the desk. "Then we have much to discuss. Let's begin with the potential consequences, Doctor." She watched as he saw her with the same attitude and energy as he had when he first entered the room, not one bit mitigated in his patience. "To start off, you were lucky nobody else other than Reunion—a now formally designated terrorist organization by the international—were the witnesses of your reckless act." Kal'tsit shook her head, tapping her desk almost restlessly. "Rhodes Island would be subjected to intense scrutiny from nations should any major powers discover that we harbor a unit capable of decimating entire Catastrophes."
Jugram had almost felt the urge to demand the Feline to have them come their way, so he could deal with them all prematurely in a "diplomatic" setting. The same true and tried method His Majesty had once put to use and perfected. But—he kept himself restrained, reining in the urge, too many factors were at play for him to comfortably pull off such a feat without it being impunity.
"In light of such developments, they would seek to target you specifically, Doctor." She pointed his way, her index finger almost a blunt steel blade. "There, two possibilities lie. Either they desire to latch a leash on you, or eliminate both you and this organization in its entirety."
"...Paranoia." Jugram scoffed. He couldn't wholly blame them anyway, for he and His Majesty possessed paranoia of grand proportions as well.
Kal'tsit gestured agreement. "Their paranoia bleeds and seeps into ours. Into my own, admittedly. Rhodes Island would teeter on the precipice of annihilation should this information so much as leak a droplet anywhere. You should be thankful nobody would lend credence to the words of a designated terrorist organization."
"Hm." He let out a noise of agreement. "I doubt such an event went entirely unnoticed, either, but the death of a Catastrophe by a human's hands is unheard of—as Dobermann and Nearl had preemptively informed me once—so they must have brushed it to the side."
"Precisely as you indicate. They do not attribute anything to you, to Rhodes Island, or even Reunion, as majority researchers have deemed it to be an abnormality in relation to atmospheric conditions."
Jugram found himself seldom mirthful. "How favorable the circumstances are."
"As I've been insinuating. You were blessed by fortune."
Jugram huffed in hardly-veiled amusement. "An appreciable insight. But I've already become sensitive to such a fact the moment I awoke from that Sarcophagus alive."
"...Hm." Kal'tsit nodded. "We've discussed this long enough. I would rather conclude it with one last thing." She reached into her desk again, Jugram watching her as he always had done.
It was a small device which produced a holographic scene, and inside that scene which displayed colors in perfect detail to the world's own, was a distorted terrain doused in deathly ash.
She began, "This was captured by an advanced drone brought for the Chernobog Rescue Operation as we had already anticipated the Catastrophe to arrive, and was meant to record any strange phenomenon that would spring form the Catastrophe—as they occur amongst these calamities more frequently than you can imagine."
"Did it capture anything?"
"Yes, but not from the Catastrophe. It was from you, the moment you activated your ability." Kal'tsit watched the screen with him, narrowing her eyes as the gigantic scale appeared. "How unsubtle."
He ignored the remark.
"Anyways, look. This is the reason why I am even showing you this." She pointed to the second holographic screen. "The data fluctuations and recording shows that you had ruptured tectonic veins filled with Originium across the land."
"...Pardon?" Jugram raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected this.
"You heard me. If you desire it in simple terms, it is akin to a scar across the planet's flesh. This sort of disruption you had caused with your ability—uncontrolled and unrefined in its usage I presume—would risk further Catastrophe activity across the land from the irritated Originium veins in line with the disruption."
...Uncontrolled, unrefined? Had I miscalculated? For once, Jugram felt bothered at the prospect. I have put to use The Balance for centuries, how could I have tumbled so terribly?
"I stipulate you not to use this ability again on such a large scale again, not just for health complications, but also for the health of Terra."
"I will be sure to consider your behest with great gravity pertaining to the situation."
Kal'tsit responded, "I'm glad you understand." She turned off the holograms, putting the device securely away. "I will not question how you attained such absurd abilities beyond even my understanding because of your amnesia. I will research this matter thoroughly on my own."
"Understood."
"Any concerns?"
"No further concerns."
"Then I suggest you proceed with your preparations, the Schutzstaffel won't form itself, Doctor." Kal'tsit waved him off with a turn of her wrist. "You are dismissed."
Wordlessly, Jugram turned around with his eyes closed, moving away from the window he had stuck to and moved to the door.
"And Doctor, one last thing." Kal'tsit sipped her coffee mug. It had gone cold. "Will you ever don your old uniform?" She narrowed her eyes at his double-breasted cloak, with furred lining on one side of the chest.
He turned back for a second, already underneath the automatic door's frame. "I don't believe I will."
...Kal'tsit hoped so.
When the door closed, the Feline heaved a sigh, guising her shaking body.
The "Doctor" had become formidable in a way she hadn't expected.
***
In the hallways...
"You are sullen," Jugram pointed out the obvious, turning to the silent ghost who hadn't said anything since he had proposed his plan to Kal'tsit.
Theresa, who was trailing behind him, glanced up. "My, what could have brought you to such an assumption?" The soft, playful air she usually possessed seemed to have seldom faded.
Jugram stopped walking. "Your back is arched six degrees over more than normal, your neck cranes ever-so-slightly across the ground, despondent—"
She raised a hand, signaling him to stop. "...Fine, fine. You made your point stupendously. I understand." A nearly exasperated sigh flew from her lips. "You said that on purpose, didn't you?"
"It serves its motive," he dryly said.
"In bringing my attention? Certainly so." Theresa's voice lacked its previous inflections. "I'm sure you've come to notice my attitude, it's as clear as a crystal under sunlight."
"...The proposal I presented to Dr. Kal'tsit was not to your liking," he stated as a matter of fact, peering through her disappointments. "You were against it." He would've presented the wider plan for the Sternritter as a whole, but he settled with going for a smaller scale.
"Against it? Maybe so. But that isn't my main concern." She shook her head. "It was how you had approached the ordeal."
Jugram huffed. "Pray tell." He was already growing weary of these.
"Are you not aware? You had barged into her office and expected the results to fall into place because of what you deem to pay the greatest results. Not an ounce of consideration was given to Dr. Kal'tsit. A harsh act."
"Kal'tsit is as much as a brick wall as I am," Jugram admitted. "That woman won't budge from the stance she holds from what I have seen. In my eyes, a strategic confrontation is needed to push against that opposing wall. What else would you have me do?"
"Opposing wall?" Theresa was exasperated and whisked in front of him, causing the blonde-haired man to pause in the middle of the hallway. "She was right on one part. This strategic way you approach things... it doesn't build trust between you and others well. It's almost as if you treat them as tools to meet your end."
He met different eyes this time, far removed from Kal'tsit's stubborn coldness. A softly chiding one.
"You also view Dr. Kal'tsit as an opposing wall." Theresa lowered her head. "That isn't the right way of approaching it, Jugram. She may be standoffish, bear frost across her lips, but she seeks the best for Terra. With the attitude you approach and reproach her with, you won't ever bring her to your side. You have to earn her trust."
"...Trust. The same word, again and again." Jugram shut his eyes with a tired sigh. "She will fall in line eventually."
"With how much she would dig her heels?" Theresa crossed her arms, almost challengingly. "In a way, I believe you underestimate her. I hope, for your sake, you don't discover just how much she can hold back."
He walked past her, sparing only a glance. "You hold her in high regard."
"How could I not? Our time together—"
"Whatever history you have with the Feline, I am unaware," Jugram said, walking down the hallways once more. "Nor do I care to figure it out."
Theresa was taken aback, watching him saunter across with hallways without another look of recognition to her presence.
***
An automatic door shut behind him. Jugram let out a sigh, bathing in the silence, letting his thoughts wander about before he set his sword to the side, leaning it to the side of the wall—delicately. He then made way to the chair by his study desk, sitting down on it and extending a palm forward, concentrating his Reiatsu.
A fiery aura emerged, dark-blue in color, before it compressed and turned into a bright luscious orb. Threads emerged from it, spanning across the room in an astronomical-like display. A hue reminding Jugram of Silbern was now ever present.
Theresa, who followed him silently in slight frustration, now found it suppressed by piqued curiosity. "...Might I ask what you are attempting to do?" She watched the ebb and cascade of azure strings dancing in a flamboyant manner. Nerves unmatched to a body.
Jugram didn't bat an eye, too concentrated. "Creating physical matter with Reiatsu." The blue orb was between his finger tips, as large as an apple where all threads converged.
"Reiatsu? I don't quite understand, but perhaps I could extrapolate that is the source of your abilities?" For a person heralded from a different world, Theresa could discern about as much.
"Yes, yes, it is..." Jugram thinned his lips. "Insignificant with its potency in this state, I must include. Reiatsu pales in comparison to Reishi when it comes to creating matter and fueling my abilities. It is unfortunate that this world comprises naught of it."
She continued to match as the blonde-haired man attempted to squish the ball, to malleate its shape with his fingertips. It proved fruitless. "This Reiatsu stems as a product from your body, that much I can tell. Then you brought up this Reishi, an unfamiliar but I'd assume connected term to what you spoke of before. Please elaborate." Her interest grew.
"...Reishi originates from all matter apparent back in my world," Jugram elaborated. "This world functions upon different laws and different structures compared to it. Because Reishi is the spiritual matter of physical composition, it is more effective than Reiatsu when it comes to creation."
Theresa's eyes dotted around as she hummed. "I understand." The Reiatsu as she sensed it, came from a well of energy stored in Jugram Haschwalth's body, while Reishi, nonexistent in this world, stemmed from the environment. "Then, I could help you shape this ball of Reiatsu currently exerted," she suggested.
Jugram, for the first time since entering his room, granted her a glance. "How so?"
Theresa clasped her hands together. "Do I have your attention now?"
"You do," he neutrally said
"Hm..." She took on a thoughtful postulation. "First of all, what are you attempting to create?" She already knew Jugram was attempting to create something based on the previous topic of matter and shaping it, but not the specific item.
"My previous white cloak. It was burnt to ash."
The Sarkaz snapped her fingers lightly. "I see." A smile graced her lips. "A form of tailorship is required for this task—it just so happens that it is in the realm of my capabilities."
Jugram raised an eyebrow. "...Then may I ask for your expertise?"
"Well..." Theresa glanced to the side, bringing her clasped hands down. "Then could I ask you a favor for this?"
"A favor?" Jugram didn't take even a second to consider. "If it bears sufficient weight to Balance—"
"Balance, Balance, Balance... I just so happen to waltz into it. Now isn't that so?" Theresa mirthlessly smiled. "Apologies, I just so happened to fall into a tangent."
He silently nodded, still grasping the ball of Reiatsu.
"Where was I? Ah, yes. Could you do me a favor and be more... considerate of other people?"
"...Does this relate to my approach to Dr. Kal'tsit?"
"Maybe," she responded vaguely. "Some parts, perhaps, and it was through that I was able to recognize your demeanor may complicate matters with others. So please, may you be more considerate of others when the time comes?"
Jugram ruminated over her request for a moment in time, before responding. "...Feasible. I can accept such a request."
She twinkled brighter from the lips. "Promise?"
"You would find I adhere strictly to my principles," he replied.
"A promise, then."
With that, Theresa smoothly glided her hands across the back of Jugram's own, her fingers delicately leading them to the strings. He complied, slightly brows slightly twitching when he felt her body press against his back, before she brought his hands to the vast array of strings spread across the room.
She began her explanation, never once breaking her attention away from the process. "The control you have over your own energy, your Reiatsu, is rather haphazard at the moment. Though, it is in a way which is beneficial to what we desire."
"How so?"
"These threads, strings—a myriad of them formed from this delicate loss of control—is perfect for the purpose we are attempting to achieve." She continued to lead his hands across them, gathering each and every sapphire silk across his fingertips. "How were you attempting to control them?"
"By bending them to my will, the same method I had always utilized for Reishi."
"Mayhaps that isn't the correct way of proceeding with things." Theresa skillfully gathered the last of the strings, eyes dancing across each silk. "Though I do lack understanding in the fundamentals, Reishi and Reiatsu are different to each other in vast proportions when considered on a more... precise level?"
"You would not be wrong."
The Sarkaz hummed, calmly escorting his hands in a motion she was familiar with, threading each and every string. All into the shape of his cloak she remembered. "The control you have over your own Reiatsu does not help matters either, from the looks of it. So... let us attempt to utilize the strings as one would with a physical object, rather than a... spiritual one?"
"A valuable insight you hold. " Jugram said, feeling the woman's eyes close as she continued with her work. "I sorely lack the skills that come with this sort of... profession, so the rest is in your hands." He kept his body as still as possible while his arms and hands were moved.
"Oh? Is 'The Almighty' Jugram admitting a shortcoming?" she teased, stretching the strings and rebounding them, intersecting them across one another and weaving them together.
"You are well aware a matter of that sort is not below me," Jugram dryly said. He watched the scene, the monomers becoming polymers, the forthcoming creation of a beautiful image.
"If only you could extend such attitude to other people."
"Other people? If you mean Dr. Kal'tsit—"
"Exactly."
"..."
"Oh, there's no need to be so silent now." Theresa continued with her eyes closed, threading the rest of the silken blues with Jugram's hand. "Think of it like... how I am weaving your cloak right now. Think of it as weaving, gently guiding the strings together, forming the ideal shape and pattern which you desire. However, apply too much force, and you may distort what you create, even break it." She paused for a movement. "And not by 'bending them to your will' as you had described before."
"A creative way to describe it, I must applaud you." Jugram saw the article of clothing come together, the drapes drifting across his lap. "Yet, unconvinced as I find myself by your words, I will still follow through with the agreement we've had."
A deflection. Aren't you quite skilled at them? Theresa mused.
"Always so strict. Can't you be a least bit foolhardy for once? A little joy brings you a long way, especially when it comes to other people," she suggested. "Or would you rather uphold your effigy of power in place of that?"
"Foolhardiness is the last thing you should expect of me." The mere thought disgusted him. Jugram Haschwalth, Sternritter Grandmaster, a foolhardy commander? What would the Sternritter see of him? What would the Schutzstaffel see of him? None would ever take such a visage seriously.
Theresa hummed, opening her eyes. "Stern as ever. It's almost as if you've come to learn of this sternness to protect your image."
He paused, before reflecting back his own response "I—"
"Oh, the cloak is coming together," Theresa interrupted before he could get a sentence out, bringing his hands up to get a better view of the item being formed. "Please, you could learn a thing or two about trust. Maybe then, this would fit you well when you wear it."
Jugram remained still, watching her complete the rest of the clothing. His thoughts continued to cycle back to the words she had thrown his way, a turmoil of thoughts swelling up his head and his already bloated heart (no thanks to a certain object embedded inside). He still needed to figure out what it was, for even the advanced technology of Rhodes Island couldn't detect it. The only thing that could, was his own sense of self—of his own body.
"There's no need to be stressed over my words." Theresa leaned closer to his ear, concentration unbreaking. "Kal'tsit had always told me stress would strain the heart. It wouldn't bode well for your circumstances."
...Jugram had to wonder if the action was necessary.
"Just a few more touches, and..." Her voice drew out, a brief pause coming over her hands.
He had almost felt the need to question why she had stopped in the middle of her actions, but the Sarkaz had returned from her... stupor. He assumed it to be a stupor. The pink-haired woman shook her head for a moment before she chuckled nervously, proceeding once more with her threading actions.
"Apologies, a lapse in thought," Theresa reassured. However, her fingers trembled slightly, her thoughts almost coming to a blur with what she had done. No, no, I didn't meant to—
Thoughts flashed through her head, painting images and scenes that weren't her own. Wait—! She remembered how she had promised not to invade his thoughts, and she hadn't done anything to initiate a reading. So then why—?
***
She stood at an outlook, underneath a roof supported by steadfast gray pillars made of sturdy rocks. It was a tall structure stabbing high into the sky, overlooking an entire city in perpetual night, an eternity lost in time and shadows, a different reality altogether.
"You understand the plight of the Quincies more than even His Majesty, Your Highness."
Theresa blinked, hearing words that did not sound like, or come from Jugram. She glanced to where it was spoken, and saw a blonde-haired woman with a white cap atop her head, black eyes covering even her sclera, and an ivory uniform matching the same palette as Jugram's own. The unknown woman's hands were professionally placed behind her back.
"...I wouldn't make such a claim so hastily," Jugram reprimanded. "Besides. I am not declaratively the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich in any formal manner, do not refer to me as 'Your Highness'."
Speaking of Jugram, there he stood not too far from the woman, blonde hair, his white cloak still intact with the five-pronged star on its back. He regarded the other woman with a distant gaze, blue eyes despondent—far more than she had ever seen. She heard the words, a 'Your Highness,' a high title of succession that the Sarkaz couldn't help but feel clarity over.
"...Yes, Grandmaster Haschwalth. I just believe your counsel to His Majesty would be invaluable." The woman with blonde hair lowered her head, apologetic. "With what is about to occur, as the Kaiser Gesang has foretold in its implications, then..."
Grandmaster. Another title of great merit, less so than the Crown Prince he had denied, but Theresa could intricately measure each weight they held. She had already come to deduce ages ago this was an occurrence in the past, and guilt continued to settle in her stomach like heavy coal.
"My aide," Jugram said, snapping her out of her ruminations. "What His Majesty believes, and shall carry out, far precedes any of my own unneeded opinions. The Kaiser Gesang is a gospel spoken amongst the Quincies, a decree passed by God. What could I ever say, to spare the lives of those he deems unnecessary?"
His emotions were complicated, tangled in thorny vines. There was submission, regret, and something he kept buried underneath. He was pushing against his emotions, attempting to keep them restrained as if he were battling with a rabid animal.
Theresa felt a pang in her chest. His words were suffocating, as if he had surrendered all hope to an inevitable future about to occur. She knew his abilities of The Almighty, a form of foresight, yet she still didn't know the implications of what could have him abandoning all hope, to be left in such a state of inaction and... despair.
The aide looked hesitant, before bearing a restrained look. "Grandmaster Haschwalth..." She halted there, glancing to the sky as a low rumble was heard beneath them, coming from inside the superstructure they were standing atop. "It's..." her breath was bated "...ah, it's happening."
Jugram stared up alongside her, eyes peering into the inverted sky. "There is no salvation for those chosen." He resigned them to their fates.
Theresa had contemplated breaking away from the memory forcefully, but she found herself stopping mid-thought when a crack of light filled the sky. She turned upward along the other two, watching as a tiara of blue light ripple across the sky, floating like a crown or halo above the colossal structure they stood upon. Captivating in all its glory, immense power filled the phenomenon.
The aide who stood by the side lowered her head, the shining hues of the intense light caressing her face. An item—a five-pronged star hanging by a small chain—was clasped in her right hand as she brought it close to her lips, closing her eyes. While the empyrean lights raged and glittering rain ebbed ceaselessly from the halo, she whispered:
"Vater unser im Himmel, (Our Father, who art in Heaven),"
Circuit-like veins extended from the Circular Path Buried in Light, the sound of tolling bells filling the horizon all across, the azure stormhead floating above them reaching the peak of its illumination.
"Geheiligt werde dein Name (Hallowed be Thy name)."
Some veins shot toward the ground, toward the thousands of buildings filling the city, while some extended beyond the skies, reaching to dimensions separate from where they stood. Everything was illuminated.
"Und vergib uns unsere Schuld (Forgive us for our trespasses),"
Theresa watched with bated breaths, turning to Jugram who held his eyes closed, a soul-drained solemn prayer whispered from his lips.
"Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung (And lead us not into temptation),"
Then, she heard it, the cries of countless souls, the fear of death prominent in each and every single one of them. The begotten sons continued to scream, wail, and thrash as their souls were siphoned through the veins in a deluge, entombed into the Coffin of Adnyeus, sealed into nothing but power.
A vanishing point for the flocks brought to 'Paradise.'
"Sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen (But deliver us from evil)."
The Lord of Fiends had come to realize, however, she was not the one bearing the emotions ladened in the divine Consecration. Her eyes never left Jugram, the one who heard and listened to the cries of the reaped souls, a sense of... understanding coming across her features. To bear the woes of the myriad whisked away, something she was far too intimately familiar with.
"Amen."
***
Theresa blinked.
The congregation of chosen and "impure" souls had vanished. The flashing blue lights once permeating across the scenery were no longer present, neither in the memory or the room she stood in. Blinking another time, she found that Jugram was still sitting on his chair, two hands stretched forward staring at the white cloak oscillating underneath them.
"You were dazed for about a second or two," he commented, not turning back. "What possessed you to become so?"
"Ah, ehm..." Theresa glanced around, the corporeal reality fully returning. "Sorry..." A low whisper escaped her lips, already knowing the blonde-haired man would know the implications.
A word wasn't spoken for a small lapse in time, the Grandmaster as he had once been called in the past, gauging the regalia in his hands. That was until he had spoken once more.
"What did you see?" Jugram said.
"Hm?" Theresa almost jolted from his abrupt words.
"What did you see?" he repeated, side-eye loaded and executed.
She glanced down, guilt still crossing her features in a plaster as she admitted, "A... memory of the past. A halo in the sky, deafening bells—"
"Stop."
She stopped mid-speech, mouth still somewhat open as she looked back up at him
"Pursue the matter no further, for it's no longer to my interest." His jaw was tense, and Theresa could tell he was biting the interior of his mouth, restraint across his face. Heavy restraint.
At that moment, Theresa knew he did care, furthering her own self-admonishment. "I hadn't meant to enter them, it was just, without my volition—"
"It was my fault. You are free of guilt," he deftly said. "I utilized my Soul Distribution in order to have you complete the garment tailoring much quicker. Suffice to say, it brought unnecessary complications."
"Soul Distribution? Was that the same blue thread you..."
"Indeed." He let all clouds of the past discontinue themselves from fogging his mind. "As I said. Leave the matter as it is."
"Hm..." The Sarkaz nodded, a faint guilt still lingering, and the Consecration she had in his memories did not help. A flock of souls singing their own elegies with pained bellows. There was a faint inquiry deep inside her veins, but she kept it from flowing.
"This cloak you've created—"
"We created." Theresa was the one to interrupt him this time, crossing her arms when he had sent her a forlorn gaze bordering a glare. "Is something wrong?" She mischievously asked, attempting to break away from the memory.
"...Nothing. Nothing at all." He shifted the white mantle around his shoulders as he stood up, donning it. "I meant to say it fits my needs." His gaze traveled downward, glancing at the hem of it. It was an inch or two shorter compared to what he was accustomed to.
Theresa noticed it too. "It might be unfinished."
"It doesn't matter. It holds together."
Jugram glanced to the side of his white Sternritter cloak, the unblemished white filled with faint yet distinct ruffles when he held it out. Smoothening it out, he turned it around, glancing at the insignia embedded to its back, spotting something far different than what he had grown accustomed to. Instead of the Quincy Zeichen, it was the Rhodes Island's symbol, a chess piece—rook—black in color, standing as an imposing monolith. His attention briefly waned the more he focused on it, before shaking his head and donning the piece of his attire, completing his ivory image no less resplendent than marble.
"You tend to hold an impeccable image," Theresa said. "How do you like the new addition I added to it?" She stood closer to him, clasping her hands behind her back as she glanced at the Rhodes Island symbol etched onto the cloak.
He tilted his head, icy exterior still covering his face like a sheen. "I don't mind."
"Is that it?" She looked rather disappointed at his reaction. "No other thoughts? Amiya would be ecstatic to see you bearing Rhodes Island's logo."
"Surely she would," he despondently replied.
"No fun."
"You've had your fun back in the Medical Bay." Jugram walked to the other side of the room, where a mirror was placed. "And I'm afraid we'll have to cut this discussion short."
Theresa noticed the change of inflection in his voice. "Planning to move?"
"In a way." He stared at the mirror, rolling his shoulders to adjust his cloak's position. "While you had unknowingly trespassed upon my memories, I had received an email regarding a meeting."
"A meeting? Were any details provided?" Theresa asked, doing her best to ignore his mention over his memories.. "And... Hadn't you already discussed with Dr. Kal'tsit not too long ago?"
"Details relate to discussing Rhodes Island's next course of action and a mission debriefing," he explained. "For the allotted time frame, I am not surprised. This is only to be expected." The finishing touches to his outfit was finished, before he was satisfied with his current display.
"I hope you don't hold the same attitude toward everyone else as you have with her."
Jugram almost rolled his eyes. "Of course, of course. You need not remind me."