12 August 1642
“The Spanish Empire is as fragile as it is vast,” the man said while pressing his hands against the rough canvas that kept the map of the known world hovering along the grand wall of the dim Room.
“This is true,” another man clad in scarlet with an Italian spin to his Spanish smiled alongside the grand representation of the world, “and if we had left it up to your Kings and petty politicians, they would probably squander it all in two or three generations.”
“If the Dutch break free,” the one communing his hand with the canvas sighed bitterly without heeding what the one next to him had just remarked, “then we could expect entire populations to rise in revolt.”
“There is nothing without Flanders,” the Italian pointed out. “It is our headquarters for the entire Northern administration...”
“Indeed... England would be the first to rise up... and then it will spread to France,” the layman lamented as he reached up with his fingers to the height he could accomplish but barely touched the fringes of Libya without the aid of a ladder or stool. “Austria will most likely remain with us for a while because of the blood relation... but Germany and the Greeks--”
“You're starting to talk like an old man with all this pessimism,” the man in the vermilion robes chuckled.
“Well... It
has been a while since I was a young man storming the dungeons of Constantinople.”
“And now you spend your days locked up in this room fretting over the future and growing on in years more than you already are,” the Italian smirked.
“And you're not worried, Your Eminence?” the man asked while retreating his hand to his side.
The clergyman sighed through his nose and flashed his teeth grimly. “My son,” he spoke with a sudden elderly croak in his voice as if an old tree was bending in the wind, “whatever happens will happen. Even if this world falls apart, God's plan will be fulfilled. All he asks of us is to try; not to succeed.”
The man next to the prelate forced a smile. “I really must be getting old, then,” he admitted, “I'm already worrying over things the controllers of this Room before me would dive into without a second thought.”
“Perhaps,” the prelate replied while continuing his smile. He looked up towards the various flags pinned onto the aging canvas. “I'm sure this is not even the same map they've used when my predecessors were here. Every generation requires a new group of men and women to carry the mission forward, Alvaro.”
“That principle seems like it's been forced on us each time... your last two predecessors, for example, were taken by the Timepiece...”
There was a moment of silence and both of the elderly mens' eyes were scanning where the candlelight was putting on a show of shadow and light along the intricately charted borders of the powers of the world. “We must trust that wherever they are... it has been for a reason. Without the Keys the Timepiece is volatile and one might say it is random.”
“I'm guessing you don't share those sentiments? That the Timepiece's destinations without the control of the keys is a matter of chance?” the one named Alvaro slowly edged his eyes to look at the Italian Cardinal's expressions.
The prelate's smile widened into a chuckle before receding back into a serious smirk. He leaned his head forward onto the painted canvas in front of him and closed one eye. “If I were to look at our map like this and see the strange dots and lines of gold, black, or red, I could have the wisest mind in the world and still be fooled into thinking that these are random occurrences of colour and hue.” He pulled his head back and opened his other eye. “Only God can see all of time spread out in front of him like we can see the grandness of this map, Alvaro. In fact, this analogy fails so miserably considering His omniscience compared to our weakness at merely 'looking'.” The Cardinal took a breath to collect his thoughts. “The Timepieces came from heaven and whatever their mechanics, whatever seems random will surely make sense in the consummation of all things: even if we cannot see it now.”
“I suppose those who were in this room before us understood this well,” Alvaro touched the canvas again as if the imagery His Eminence mentioned would become more real if he could tangibly connect with the map. Alvaro slowly nodded. “I will trust then that however this will play out, it will be what will happen just like we've always had faith that wherever those who came before us are, there is a plan to it and a purpose for them for being there.”
---
1984
When Jakob was summoned by the nurse that he had a “call” waiting for him, he was a bit confused by her diction. Being quite intrepid anyway, he followed the nurse into the little station near the waiting room without asking too many questions. It would make no use attempting to get anyone from this time to speak like they did, Jakob wisely thought, so he would have to learn the language from scratch. When he reached the counter where the young ladies were giggling amongst themselves and apparently chatting away the evening while patients hurried back and forth around them, all he saw on the countertop was a banana shaped object that resembled one of those exotic meadhorns one might buy from a Norwegian merchant. Attached to it was a cord that wound down past the edge of the counter like a stretched out pig's tail.
He eyed the device curiously and looked up at the nurse who looked back at him with an awkward smile. “Go ahead, honey, it's for you,” she said while looking at him from above the rim of her glasses. Jakob reached out for the object timidly and the nurse furrowed her eyebrows as he picked up the object without breaking eye contact with her. “You... have it up-side-down, dear,” she said flatly. Jakob broke out a small laugh and turned the object over in his hand.
“Jakob?” he suddenly heard: he shot his eyes to the small holes in the device with a start.
“Uncle?” he asked in return although the voice he heard seemed strange somehow as if he was hearing his uncle from behind a closed door.
“Jakob, place your ear where my voice is coming from and speak into the other end,” were the instructions. Jakob immediately complied.
“Uncle-- how--”
“Don't bother with silly questions right now,” was the terse interruption, “I've just spoken to the canon lawyer here. He's verified my ring and he's told me the bishop wants to see all of us immediately. How is Isabella? Can you all be ready to leave?”
Jakob had no time to be surprised. “She's fine, uncle, we can be ready at any time-- we were just waiting from word from either your or Sweet.” The idea of getting a 'word' from them now seemed slightly ironic to the young German. “I'm still trying to get through all of these forms--”
“The lawyer said the See will take care of it; meeting with the bishop is our highest priority right now.”
“I understand... I'll tell them right away.”
“Good... I'll be there shortly; we'll meet you at the entrance.”
Jakob heard a short click and the noise from the other side ceased altogether. He intuited the end of the communication and then carefully pulled the object from his ear and moved it forward. The nurse who had been watching him calmly took the object back from him and he gave her a customary “thank you” while nodding. She grinned awkwardly and nodded in return.
Jakob turned around and found Nia quietly hovering over him. Her taller frame surprised him a little. “Your uncle, hm?” she asked with a small smile. Jakob squirmed slightly under her imposing gaze. Nia's leather outfit seemed to tighten as she leaned in to inspect him and he noticed the clarity of her skin ever since they were able to shower again. She was an intimidating pillar of a woman despite her lithe frame.
“The bishop has agreed to see us,” Jakob replied, “They'll be here shortly, I'll go get the others--”
“No,” Nia said calmly looking off to the side, “I'll get them.” Before Jakob could object, Nia already started walking towards the rooms.
---
Isabella hadn't felt like laying back down: she had already been doing so much of that the past few hours. Antonio had kept his respectful distance and the two ended up sitting next to each other on either side of the cushioned couch. Antonio, at first, was looking at that young lady's visage, but he could tell it made her a little bit uncomfortable so he pulled his eyes away and looked at the empty hospital bed instead.
They had spoken here and there and they had “caught up” as best as they could. Antonio had recapitulated everything in case she missed any small detail since their initial separation. It had been done in muted tones. Anyone else might have been put off by Isabella's contemplative silence, but Antonio could tell with every small glance the young lady passed in his direction and the calm way she leaned along her side of the couch that there were words inside of her welling up waiting to burst forward. But he did not blame her for not saying anything: they were far away from anywhere “safe” or “familiar.” There was a feeling inside of him, however. Something was pushing him off the couch.
He made a step and then another in her direction and, just when it seemed like he was about to pass her by, he turned right at her. The next moment he was kneeling down in front of her and his hand reached out to clasp her shoulder. The other hand found the other shoulder. His eyes caught hers and his grip became easy and light. “It's going to be alright,” he said quietly.
Isabella looked at that tired face for a moment. Despite his youth, Antonio already had a hint of a wrinkle underneath his right eye: he was already aging from the desperate hardships that had taken their toll on his short existence. Nonetheless, he had that rugged handsomeness and it was already showing in the small stubble attempting to forge a trail along his chin and upper lip. His dark eyes and his subtle tan was embraced by his ebony hair on either side. She did not know when it was in those moments of watching his comforting gaze that she bent in and kissed his cheek. She could immediately feel the warmth of his face flowing onto hers and the temperature must have rose a whole degree as her lips grazed his skin.
There was a moment of closed eyes and in the silence of that room, a small click of lips parting from lips followed not shortly behind. Nia had watched from the edge of the doorway quietly enough not to interrupt the two, but the small picture in front of her now, seemed to paralyze her. She even stopped breathing.
---
2004
Renault was shaking Madeleine as his knees sank into the moist sand underneath. The young lady had not taken a breath ever since he had pulled her out of the water. Already, panic was setting in and Renault placed his niece on the sandy floor and applied quick pressure to her chest (a technique he had learned from his training in the Academy). In an instant, the young lady coughed up salt water and Renault's heart nearly burst out of his chest. “Madeleine!” he cried out as he cradled his niece and pulled her up to let the water out easier.
The waterlogged girl coughed violently and held onto her uncle while adjusting her blue eyes to the sun-bathed scenery around her. The first thing she noticed was the vast ocean in front of her shimmering a neptunian hue in brilliant tones. The only thing that marred the majestic sight was a massive rock that steamed against the crystal blue water only a few dozen yards off the beachline. Already, the massive bowl shaped apparition was forcing massive clouds of steam into the sky.
It took her a moment longer of recognition to realise that her aunt Carmen was similarly clinging to her body and releasing tears of exultation. Looking to her right she could see the familiar faces of Raul and Riku aiding a limping Willem onto the sands. She sank back into the hold of her family as she tried to remember what had happened ever since her vision was overtaken by darkness. The next thing she could remember after that was the water rushing into the tunnels.
She wasn't able to understand at first... For days they had been stuck in the heated dungeons of her uncle's version of the
Inferno and now they were out in the open along the breeze kissed shores of a beach watching a massive rock heat the water up in front of them. She moved her eyes now to her left and nearly gasped at the sight. Like some dead carcass, a massive wreckage of material she had never seen before arrested her gaze.
“Uncle...” she tried to say though her voice was weakened by the inundation of the salt water. “Where... are we?”
“I don't know...” Renault responded to her while continuing to hold her and Carmen together. “I'm just as lost as you are...”
Trey was wandering aimlessly lost in thought and, somehow, had now passed the same classroom for the third time. “Have I been walking in circles?” he asked himself almost incredulously. He didn't blame himself. Indeed, after what had happened the other day, he was surprised he could stomach going about his classes (although that was becoming more and more of something he was failing at) much less that the police let him go after only the afternoon of questioning.
He had told them about the strange voice, too... and that face-- a face that he was not yet ready to remember. In fact, the only thing he could remember of that face was the dark hair... as if whatever it was had no face at all or was perhaps too hideous to look at directly... It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up just thinking about it.
By the time he walked into the lab room, he was greeted by an empty classroom. His eyes dizzily tried to find the clock at the top of the whiteboard: it was already 10:55. His class had been over for five minutes now.
“Trey?” a voice called out from behind one of the lab stations. Turning to the other end of the classroom, Trey saw Dr. Braun sitting behind one of the lab desks.
“Professor-- I'm sorry I--” he stammered, but already Dr. Braun was getting up and pulling her lab coat off the back of the chair she was sitting on.
“It's alright,” she smiled at him. “I heard about it from your room mate. Apparently you were given quite a scare the other day: I would have thought you'd be in the counselor's office instead of trying to get to class; I've been watching you make rounds in the science hall three times now.” She was obviously holding back a giggle.
“It's been a rough few days,” Trey admitted with a halfway smile.
“Are you going to be late for your next class?” the professor questioned almost with a tease as she crossed towards the front of the classroom.
“No, ma'am,” Trey replied promptly, “this was my only class for today.”
“In that case,” Dr. Braun said while shuffling through her desk. She paused to find the proper folder before placing it neatly on the front of her bureau, “I'll excuse your absence if you drop these papers off to the new student. I'd forgotten to give it to him when he arrived today and he really should have these before next time we meet.”
“A new student?” Trey asked off-hand while approaching Dr. Braun's desk. He pulled the folder up to read the title of “transfer papers” typed out on the front.
“Just some coursework and the syllabus. The young man's transcripts also came back and I filled out where his classes transferred. It was such a hassle,” Dr. Braun went on, “he transferred from the University of California in Irvine and they're on a quarter system so Dr. Lewis and I had to go through his previous work and see how many credits each he would get.”
Some of the papers-- specifically the one about the transcript was sticking out from the top of the hefty folder. “Jim Orson Edinger,” he read to himself. There was a picture attached, but Trey could only see the top half of the young man's visage. For some reason, Trey thought, he had seen the face before, but he could not place it. “Which room would he be in?” Trey asked looking up at Dr. Braun.
“It should be listed in on the back of the folder,” she said casually before turning around to erase the notes on the board. It was fortunate she had turned her attention to the whiteboard: she did not notice the look of surprise on Trey's face. Apparently, this new transfer student was going to live right next door to Trey.
Chapter CXXVI: New Neighbors (coming soon)