Chapter LVII: The End Part I
November 11, 1583
Jakob shook his head while maintaining the low posture of his chin. For the most part, Jakob had always been the bulwark of strength throughout the heavy history of his tenure in the Silent Room and abroad and for the past few weeks there had been a great hope in his heart; a return to normalcy. When his friends had first arrived he was overjoyed to hear that Isabella had been found—albeit without her memories, but the bitterness of the current situation eventually set in during the important meeting which followed.
“He’s still missing and we have not heard back from Sweet yet,” he said as sternly as he could to Antonio.
For Jesca, who had been introduced—or reintroduced—to the Silent Room, the place gave her a strange pitted feeling in her gut. It was not so much fear, she thought, but a sense of history and gravity that interlaced through the earthen walls. It had not subsided even with all the other younger faces congregating together around the main wooden table of that chamber.
“I’m sorry,” Antonio said to his friend. Antonio’s return had been one of haste. Sailing across the world on the fastest ship that could carry them; the journey still took its worrisome toll on the already troubled administrator. The “Substitute” as his father and he had called the Cardinal was still nowhere to be found, and what’s worse was that a seemingly resurrected Duke Hernandez was inciting unrest in the realm. However, Sio-Pan was foremost on his mind and it was declared through the wrinkling his forehead undertook each time that name was mentioned.
“From what Jesca and I have gathered,” Nia interjected, “the Timepiece as well as Sio-Pan have left the Peninsula and set up camp across the Mediterranean in a remote Greek town.”
Nia was perhaps the most dispassionate about the whole emotional stasis that had affected the Silent Room. For her, the atmosphere of deep secrets buried in the earth was not unfamiliar to her. Despite her utility as a spy master, she had higher priorities in mind.
“News has reached us that the Key of St. Andrew is safe for now,” Renault added, “and this is probably why Sio-Pan and the Cult are moving. If what you’ve briefed me on is correct, then they’ve accelerated their plan and wish to forego any of the Keys.”
As usual, Renault’s analysis was an educated perception of the evidence but even his scientific nature was not affected by the urgency of this return to Spain. The Timepiece was in hands of those who seek to tap into its potential. Despite being a scientist himself, he knew well the limits of such human experimentation.
“Then we must move to stop them once and for all,” Antonio resolved rising from his position at the head of the table.
“With our men in the Far East, we cannot hope a military operation into Ottoman territory,” Jakob explained moving his eyes up to his friend’s.
“We’ll have to go in stealthily with only the Lions we have on hand,” Antonio replied. He surveyed the rest of the table and received the acquiescent nods. “Prepare the coach for Barcelona. Send word to ready a merchant vessel.”
As the residents of the Silent Room began to execute the directive despite the specter of missing comrades, there was one absence in particular that did not seem to garner too much suspicion.
---
December 2, 1583
The Mediterranean night felt heavier than usual for Juan de Guzman. Perhaps it was the lack of sunlight that hid the stifling humid air that rolled over the small seaside town which completed the deception of a calm and cool evening. Hiding the moonlight, the clouds arrested the nearly deserted villa in a choking and hungry overcast.
Juan looked up towards the lightless sky and could feel the dry wind passing through the large open area which he now stood. Ringing him in torch-lit grandeur rose a modest yet impressive ruin. White rain washed stones intermingling with the plaqued brown of weathered rock encircled him in intimidating strength. The old Roman arena of the city had not been used for centuries but now the torch flames which pulsated against the harsh weather gave it a menacing revival.
It was not the dizzying and imposing height of the surrounding seats which drew Juan’s attention. Instead, his focus was towards the head of the arena—the area which was now being nursed by countless dark figures. It was this area of the arena where a terrible apparition rose into the air. It was like a miniature tower—a cone of dark sheen which was supported at various ends by ropes and bulwarks. At the base of the cone was a hollow area with an opening the size of one’s head. The darkness within the towering contraption seemed to whistle a deathly gasp as the wind passed.
Watching over the cultists raising the device, Raypard Le Cheik leaned on his ornate staff like an unholy prelate beholding a mockery of the Tabernacle. As the spire rose into the air, Juan could feel a tense heat before a small spark amongst the clouds betrayed the tainted nature of the metal tower. “This is not what I agreed to help you for, Le Cheik,” Juan called out from the arena floor. In the heavy density of the air, his words seemed to be muffled by a tumultuous rancor in the friction of the wind.
There was a small pause, as if it took a few seconds for the hidden satisfied grin of Le Cheik to sour into his elderly cowl. “You should have stayed in Spain, Juan,” the figure replied with a kind of dismissive fatigue. “This does not concern you anymore.”
“It does indeed concern me, Le Cheik!” Juan yelled back taking a step forward closer towards that side of the arena where the work was progressing. “I handed you the Timepiece so that I could be the one to bring it back. The Cardinal is out of the way and we agreed you could have the second Timepiece!”
The older gentleman seemed to weigh more onto his staff before turning to face Juan down on the arena floor. “Must you really think so small?” Le Cheik asked with a curling insult tagged into his tone. “Your petty aims at fame and glory are nothing compared to what we will achieve here.”
At first, Juan was taken aback and his forehead ruffled as his eyes squinted at the insulting connotations. “You would not be here if it weren’t for my help!” he yelled. “We should be focusing on getting the other Timepiece and not fooling around with—”
“Fooling around?” Le Cheik hissed. As if on cue, a smaller hint of lightning temporarily whitened the wrinkled expression of that old man. “It’s true we had our deal, Juan; and it’s true that you brought us the Timepiece. But with the Ming’s help we now have the means to move forward with the plan without having to wait for you to have your glory and for us to have the second Timepiece!”
“Your plans, perhaps!” Juan retorted, “I wasn’t told this was part of our plan!” There was a grim tightening all over Juan’s body. Like the dammed energy that flowed through the sky, his body perched itself for the impending double cross. Regrets were no longer a question.
Le Cheik sighed and straightened himself from relying on his staff. The moments that passed between when that tall figure turned around and the acolytes in the arena approached Juan deviated between the darkness of the night and the budding illumination of the mutinous clouds. In those seconds, Juan drew his sword.
As if watching from a blinking observer, the interplay of light and dark created a sort of moving painting of the moving men. Juan cut through the approaching acolytes and already he approached the far end of the arena. Le Cheik would pay for his treachery.
The taller gentleman sighed again. The acolytes around him recoiled at the man approaching the stands, but their leader gently pressed his staff against the dark tower which now loomed and dominated that side of the open space. As soon as contact was made, it was as if a singing voice rang a tune through the cone and vibrated through the air. Lightning finally let loose and touched the tip of the black apex. Traveling through the metal body invisibly, another spark appeared at the other end of Le Cheik’s staff. Even before Juan could reach the tall groundwork which separated the stands from the arena floor, a bolt arced into his sword and it seized his heart.
Like a clock returning to its original pace, the slow approach of Juan had halted and the acolytes returned to their duties. “Take his body away,” Le Cheik simply commanded. Acolytes creeping in the shadowy recesses of the stands approached the scorched body and pulled it away. Their leader tapped his staff on the floor a few times before approaching the black spike once more. This time, he inverted his staff and placed it into the hollow opening directly above the small hole. With his other hand, the darkest of spheres emerged from his cloak. Placing the object into the circular socket, he sealed the contraption’s door shut and stepped back. The Timepiece was ready to be charged.
Like a strange obligation, another terrible emanation exited the sky and was pulled towards the cone. The harsh metallic vibration of Le Cheik’s staff could be heard even within the metal casing. “It’s working!” the old man said out loud.
“Congratulations,” a similarly aging voice greeted him. Turning without losing his sense of giddiness, Le Cheik—second of the Councilmen—now greeted the benefactor of this fine instrumentation.
“Congratulations to you as well, Monsieur Sio-Pan,” Le Cheik replied allowing his wretched teeth to show. “It was, after all, your money and designs to have this built. Now, even though you have not found one of the Keys; we will be able to active the Timepiece once it is charged.”
Sio-Pan, still in his Mandarin’s costume, meandered carefully towards the towering construction which housed the fated artifact. “And what do you call this weapon of yours that has polarized my construction?” was the curious question.
“My Thunder Halberd,” Le Cheik responded proudly. “We have not been idle,” he also added as if to rebuke any insulting implication.
The Chinese one gave a small chuckle and resisted the urge to reach out and touch the charged object. “I will be leaving soon to complete the true directive which I was sent here for,” the Lord of Acid mentioned as he turned to walk along the side of the stands.
“Killing the Emperor now would be superfluous,” Le Cheik said to him as he drifted away. “If this works, none of that will be necessary.”
“Perhaps; but I’m not nearly as optimistic as you are,” was the giggling response. The laughing madman in Sio-Pan was quite comfortable in being pragmatic as well.
Before the grandly costumed Mandarin could finish his chilling high pitched laugh, one of the acolytes calmly approached the European and leaned in a shaded face towards Le Cheik’s ear.
“Looks like we’ll have to delay your trip,” Le Cheik said before waving off the messenger. “Duke Antonio and his entourage have arrived at the docks.”
Sio-Pan did not bother turning around but merely nodded his head. “I had expected this to happen,” were the still half laughing words.
“I’m assuming, then,” Le Cheik curiously asked, “that you’ve prepared for this? Sending out one of your flesh puppets, perhaps?”
In the slouching posture of the old Easterner, he cradled a hidden grin. “I would not worry; the mightiest of my flesh puppets will take care of them. Her talents even under all that flesh are quite impressive.”
“Her?” Le Cheik couldn’t help but ask.
There was nothing but that bitter cackle from Sio-Pan.
---
“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” Lex asked with a raised voice as he stood up from his sofa.
“I’m sorry, sir. But Lady Jesca’s instructions lead us to the wrong place…” the reporting agent said with a lowered head, “We managed to get by using Lady Nia’s backup instructions but otherwise—”
Lex immediately turned to Grubby who was up until that point writing orders from his desk. “Bring in all the reports at once and double the operations using Nia’s backups,” Grubby decisively ordered. The reporting agents quickly acknowledged and quitted the room.
“It’s not like Jesca to make mistakes like this,” Lex said with a painful confusion as he passed the report papers onto Grubby’s desk. His troubled look was reflected in his military counterpart. “If we get this wrong, it could cost us Beijing.”
---
“Set up a perimeter immediately; we won’t be staying for too long so have the horses ready at once,” Renault commanded to the Lions around him. As the tumult of the landing began to shift into the stealth of infiltration, Antonio was helping Jakob out of the rickety boat which they had acquired for the expedition.
“Thank you,” Jakob said quickly before tugging on Antonio’s hand and landing foot onto the pier.
The short distance to their temporary headquarters at the warehouse was already being traversed by the various men along with them. As Antonio and Jakob watched over the work, the older one leaned in to his friend to ask him something. “When this is over, I want you to examine Isabella…”
“She still hasn’t remembered anything?” Jakob asked. It was a strange subject. Although the situation was explained to him, he still carried a kind of astonished reservation about Isabella’s current situation. The feeling, in the course of the tense circumstances, had not the chance to germinate in his brain.
“Not a thing… no matter how much I’ve tried. Even the mementos and images from the Silent Room where we all worked didn’t even seem to make any impression on her…”
Jakob nodded carefully and passed a glance towards Isabella. He fully understood what it meant to feel like you’ve lost someone and although Isabella was not blood family, she certainly felt that way nonetheless.
Jesca noticed the eyes touching her visage. It was probably best that this operation was being completed at night, she thought, for the blueness of those eyes was beginning to finally fade.
“I knew it! I knew she was a toaster!” one of the guards exulted as he leaned back in his seat and took a careful sip of his coffee while keeping his eyes on the portable television where his programme was running.
“Toaster? Now you’re starting to talk like them too...” his partner on the other side of the front desk of the Patriarchate’s Office Building Osaka Branch said while shaking his head. “Next thing I know, you’ll be saying ‘frak.’”
“Oh come on!” the first guard said again, “I mean that’s totally why they’re having her die, right? They wouldn’t kill her off unless she was going to come back as one of
them!”
As they were speaking, the small portable television was still rolling the end credits and displaying the preview for the next episode. “I don’t care what you say,” the second one interrupted, “Grace Park is still the hottest one of the twelve.”
“Well we haven’t seen the other four of the Final Five, yet,” the first one admonished, “for all we know they could be hotter!”
Both shared a casual laugh when the front doors of the building opened. The rushing individuals entering caught both mens’ attention and they stood up to ask the usual questions only to be stopped by Captain DeWitt’s ID card carrying the emblem of a Lion.
“Official business,” Captain DeWitt said before leaning over the table to press the door control open. “What floor is the Test Room in?”
“F… fifth basement,” the first guard said with a stutter. “At the very end of—”
With a thankful nod, the Lions’ captain ushered his young charges through the access elevator and ordered it to go to the fifth underground floor remember that their final destination would be at the very end of the hall.
Chapter LVIII: The End Part II (coming soon)
