Anneliese followed the man who called himself Pawn, descending into the sterile obsidian fortress belonging to the Alchemist. She thought for half a second that Argrave had been returning when this Pawn emerged from the home, but only a second’s scrutiny broke that illusion. She didn’t enjoy whatever game this thing was. It had emotions, true enough, but it could not be human given its resemblance to Argrave. It had to have been made.
When this seemingly endless stairway finally ended, Pawn stepped aside and held his arms out. “Welcome. This is my home. Plus my extended family. I live in that box up there.”
Anneliese looked past him and his ramblings, searching for Argrave. She saw the Alchemist, and she saw Argrave. He was sitting on a chair, his clothes folded neatly at his feet… and his skull was split open.
“You’re here!” Argrave called out.
“Quiet,” the Alchemist reprimanded, a familiar and sleek scalpel moving through his fingers.
Anneliese stepped closer in worried frenzy, coming upon Argrave. She looked upon him. He was smiling broadly like he’d discovered some secret. She feared for his health, but he showed no pain, no aversion… instead, the Alchemist peered inside his skull with eyes on his fingers, examining every nook and cranny of Argrave’s brain and skull.
After what was a brief yet insufferable time, the Alchemist closed shut his skull, leaving not a single wound. The hulking monstrosity said, “Lay on your back. You may talk. Better you than I.”
With that, the Alchemist enclosed his ears in a ward. Argrave obediently laid down on his back, staring up at Anneliese.
“First off—no danger. You look a little nauseous, so let’s get that out of the way,” Argrave assured her, holding up his hand. She held it with both hers. “As a matter of fact… I got the Alchemist to swear never to do us harm, so long as we never wittingly steal from or assault him or his various Pawns strewn throughout the world.”
“But what is he doing—what are you doing? This is far removed from our discussions,” she insisted, kneeling beside him.
“I decided to stop running from a question. That question being why I’m here on Berendar, what my purpose in arriving here is. I was too scared, and maybe too proud to confront it. But given all the things I’ve been through, and after some advice from Castro… I think I’m ready to tackle this question. And I cannot think of anyone better to do so than the Alchemist.” He squeezed her hand. “I have no idea where this will take us. But whatever the case, I’m resolved to get some answers. Whether that I’m insane, or a simple lead… this has to tell us more.”
Argrave’s torso was slowly split open, piece by piece… skin, muscle, bone, and then organ. Each part of him was taken out, scrutinized meticulously, measured, observed… and then placed back. It was perhaps the most stomach-turning thing Anneliese had ever seen, and her mind was reeling so quickly that questions escaped her mind as soon as she obtained them.
“But… why?” she asked, trying her best to focus only on his face lest she vomit.
“Why?” Argrave repeated. “Because… because I’m not as smart as I think I am. Even if I got Ingo’s blessing as he wanted, it wouldn’t change anything. Millions of others before me have gone through this—gods, even! —and still the cycle of judgment persists. But there is something unique about me, Anne. And I need to embrace it. Or at the very least, I need to rule out that it isn’t important.”
The Alchemist grasped Argrave’s arm, unfolding it bit by bit until Anneliese was forced to release her grip. She continued to stare as she said, “…and what if there is nothing?”
“Then there’s nothing,” Argrave said casually. “I lose nothing, and I finally deal with this… this burden. Talking with you about Earth has helped more than you know, but still my otherness weighs on me more than I can express.”
Anneliese sighed. “You do not need to express it. I know it. I see it in you.”
“See? This is why we work.” Argrave smiled, and when his arm was reconstructed held it back out for her to hold once again.
“We work for more reasons than simply that,” she chided him, but took his hand in hers once more. She almost feared to touch him, but his hand felt as firm and steady as before it had been taken apart. “But… what is he doing, exactly?” She spared a cautious glance at the Alchemist.
“Total diagnostic,” Argrave said. “He is completely and absolutely examining my body to see what he can learn of my situation. We can learn whether I’m right, mad, or beyond him.”
“And what about the mirror?” Anneliese pressed.
“I’m sure that will come in time. He is rather thorough, isn’t he?” Argrave marveled, looking upon the Alchemist as he worked. “For now, let’s sit and talk. I would very much like a distraction right now…”
#####
Argrave and Anneliese spoke of things mundane and not mundane as the Alchemist worked. Anneliese had to give him credit—this creature was very clearly the best imaginable person to do this. The way that he went about things possessed a certain detached logic to it that worked to codify every little bit of Argrave. She was uneased as the Alchemist wrote—the idea of her husband being so totally documented brought her great trepidation—but in the end, Argrave had made his choice.
When the Alchemist finished examining everything, even Argrave’s very soul, he took the mirror. He reached for every cabinet in the room, opening them all one after another. Various people climbed down out of their compartments—chimeras, Argrave explained, one and all named Pawn. Larger compartments went unopened, for they contained beasts of war.
The Alchemist and the Pawns worked together on constructing a sprawling archive of Argrave’s being. The mirror was scrutinized in great detail, though very delicately at the same time. The Alchemist sprouted thousands of arms to aid in him is writing, growing ever more feverish in his study by the second. Finally, like a hive come alive, all of the Pawns collected the vast sprawling paper, organizing them into piles and binding them into white-backed books. In no more than a few hours, there was an eleven-volume series about every detail of Argrave’s being.
All of the Pawns ascended back into their compartments, closing shut the door behind them. Anneliese and Argrave were left alone once again, and though she was happy to see him whole and healthy after his harrowing experimentation, the Alchemist’s inaction grew her suspense. The great figure leafed through the volumes, reading them one at a time. She had seen him read many books at once before, but this was different. It was the abstract side of the cold logic she’d seen—just as the scientist needed logic, so too did he need to dream, she felt. And perhaps it was her imagination… but Anneliese thought she detected some modicum of joy coming from the millennia-old creature.
And finally, after hours and hours of unease… the Alchemist set all of the books aside, and slowly walked back to Argrave and Anneliese. He looked down at them, saying nothing.
“My test results?” Argrave asked cheekily—Anneliese could tell he felt bolder now that his safety was guaranteed.
“I believe you came from somewhere else.” The Alchemist held out the mirror to Argrave.
“Really?!” Argrave said with more vigor than he’d had all day, taking the mirror back as he rose to his feet. “Then you’ve seen something? Observed something?”
“Silence,” the Alchemist waved his hand, stepping away in obvious dislike. “There is a trace in you. Not in body, but in soul. And the faintest amount of that trace exists in the mirror, binding you with the object. It is a subtler method than anything I have ever witnessed before.”
“A trace,” Argrave repeated. “Does that mean…?”
“Stop speaking,” the Alchemist rasped once more. “I have seen that trace before. Gerechtigkeit carries its like.”
Another question clearly rose to Argrave’s mind, but after being silenced twice, he held his tongue.
“All of it points to something more than what is here. Something beyond the mortal realm and the divine realm. Something different.” The Alchemist looked upon Argrave. “If I had Gerechtigkeit’s presence, it might be that something could come of it. But I do not. And we cannot afford to wait until his descent to advance down this path.”
The Alchemist grew silent, stepping away. Anneliese considered all of this mutely, looking at Argrave’s face distantly as he looked elated with validation. Finally, they had some lead on whatever had happened to him. It was only the vaguest hint, called only ‘a trace’ by the one who discovered it, but it was something.
“Georgina sought to bring King Felipe III to Mozzahr,” Anneliese finally lifted her head up as inspiration struck. “Felipe III, whose mind had been directly meddled with by Gerechtigkeit. And Mozzahr is interested in subverting the cycle of judgment, if in a different manner.” She focused on the Alchemist. “Would that suffice for what you need? A body, bearing Gerechtigkeit’s meddling?”
The Alchemist stared at a bookshelf silently, then turned his head. “Perhaps,” he said simply.
Anneliese continued, “Would you welcome a body that had been toyed with by Gerechtigkeit? Is that a way to continue this thread?”
The Alchemist walked closer to her. “I would retrieve it myself, even.”
Anneliese looked down at Argrave. “Congratulations. I believe we found your lead, my love.”
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