It was hard, but I stilled my face as best as I could and beheld the old man on the bed. He was gaunter than the last ti I'd seen him, yet his sunken eyes were bright despite the dark purple circles underscoring them. The dry lips partially hidden under the white ss covering his face were bent in a natural smile that didn't falter even when I maintained my silence.
It was a very familiar sight. Searching my mories, it didn't take long to find a match; it was the exact sa expression I'd seen on his face when I first t him in front of my house. The uncomplicated, jolly, grandfatherly smile of a lonely old man eting his distant family for the first ti in ages.
Yet, despite the brute fact that I could recognize it, there was sothing different about it. Was it because it didn't seem fake? No, that wasn't it. His smile from back then looked perfectly natural as well. It was sothing else. Sothing more fundantal.
And then, it finally clicked with . Or rather, it was . It wasn't his perception that fundantally changed, but my impression of him, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. Sothing was missing. Sothing I took for granted, and got so used to it, its absence made feel oddly uncomfortable.
I was naturally talking about the unexplainable, nearly instinctive irritation bordering on revulsion I felt whenever I was in the presence of Sir Percival. This peculiar gut feeling of mine was sothing I got so used to, it felt uncanny not to have it anymore. That raised two big questions though; what was it, and why was I no longer feeling it?
While I had a clearer understanding of many things, I could only speculate. It couldn't have been other-'s fault, because after our rger, I now knew everything he knew and did, and there was no sign of any interference on that front. For a while, I thought it was a kind of Narrative Influence unique to , but that didn't seem to be the case either. It made sense at the ti to speculate that the Narrative was trying to use it to set up against the various antagonists we would face in the Plot, but based on what I knew now, it was a bit far-fetched.
If anything, it might've been sothing of a bleed-through effect. Sort of. It's hard to explain, but let's consider this: , other-, and Narrative- (along with whatever other pan-Simulacrum or pan-cosmic versions of might or might not have existed) were all part of a greater, capital-M . That would an that the sa way Narrative- understood perfectly, and could use certain tropes to steer my attention, I might've been subconsciously aware of Narrative-'s Plot, and what role so people would be playing in it.
If so, it would've explained why I was feeling aversion towards certain people. People who would endanger my family, my friends, or just generally annoy with their antics. It was kind of like a premonition; based on the Plot, I subconsciously knew that I would hate these people in the future, and that manifested in a strong dislike in the present, which is now the past. Kind of like the whole Ergent non-linear experience of ti, just on a smaller scale, and dammit, I was getting too esoteric with this.
The point: I probably really disliked Sir Percival in the past because I was subconsciously aware that, as part of the Plot, he would threaten Snowy and cause endless headaches in the future. However, all of that was based on said Plot, which I broke, which stopped the subconscious premonitions, and that's why I wasn't irrationally irritated with Percival anymore. It was all very logical, so long as was thinking about it as a weird X-dinsional space-alien thing.
Anyhow, I'll get back to this topic the next ti I sit down with the girls. For now, let's focus on the source of my far less pronounced but infinitely more rational irritation, still grinning at from where he was lying. Percival maintained that saccharine-sweet grandfatherly face that made my stomach churn, but I also upheld my poker face quite admirably, if I do say so myself, and walked over to his bedside.
"It hasn't been that long," I pointed out a touch flatly, and his visage shifted at once as if waiting for to say that.
"What are you saying?" His face a painting of incomprehension, he glanced at the other man in the room. "I already told Roland, but the last ti we t was back in England, wasn't it?"
Seeing that I narrowed my eyes, Sir Griffon hastily cleared his throat to get my attention.
"Percival claims that he has lost his mories."
"Does he now?" I whispered, using all my willpower not to sound as incredulous as the claim deserved, and the old man let out a depressed sigh.
"It's the truth. Last I rember, I went to bed at ho after a long day investigating a lead about the long-lost equipnt left behind by the Kelpie Knight, and the next thing I know, I wake up in an unfamiliar room with my whole body feeling numb." He paused, and raised his left arm, accompanied by a tallic jingle as the links of the handcuff tying him to the bed rattled. "And this. I don't quite understand what's going on, to be honest."
Looking befuddled and entirely harmless, the old man was staring at with all the innocence of a lost puppy in the rain. It was giving the goosebumps, so I turned to Roland.
"Is he telling the truth?"
"That's what he claims, yes," he affird with a nod and glanced a Percival, his expression unusually difficult to read.
I focused on the old man again, and after locking eyes for a while, I turned around and gestured for Roland to follow after .
"Wait! Aren't you going to explain to what's going on?" Percival called after us, but I ignored him, and once we were outside, I closed the door behind and turned to Sir Griffon.
"Your take?"
"He's most likely lying," Roland answered without hesitation. "I don't know why he would do so at this stage, but it's too convenient."
"Took the words right out of my mouth," I hissed as I rubbed my face. "How are his injuries? He can't escape, right?"
"No." Roland's answer was so definitive, it made raise a brow by reflex, so he quickly elaborated. "We had three different professionals examine him while he was unconscious, including Sir Arpachshad himself." That made sense, considering Jaakobah was the closest thing to a dical expert I had on my payroll. And yes, I'm purposefully ignoring Peabody. But back to the explanation. "While there was a minor disagreent regarding the precise extent of the damage, the conclusion was that between seventy-two and eighty-six percent of his body suffered permanent mana-burns."
As much as I disliked the old bastard, that still made flinch. I knew first-hand (no pun intended) how much mana-burns sucked, and if he had that over the entirety of his body, it ant…
"He's crippled," Roland stated blandly; the sa level of enthusiasm he would show when striking out a line or delivering a signature of paperwork. It had an odd sense of finality to it.
"To what degree? Can he still fight?"
He looked at like I just asked sothing silly, but when I insisted, he categorically stated, "No. According to the healer hired by the Ordo Draconis, he'll be lucky if he can walk without assistance again. Sir Arpachshad's diagnosis was slightly more positive, but even he claid that it would take years of rehabilitation and multiple treatnts using expensive Celestial catalysts to fully cure him." He paused, his face hardening before adding, "It's not going to happen."
"Nope," I affird, and he nodded along. He looked almost relieved. "In your opinion, what should we do about him?"
Sir Griffon remained silent for much longer than expected and even used his thumb to rub his moustache, a gesture I'd rarely seen yet could easily recognize as a tic. The last ti it showed up as when I revealed myself as Bel, so it probably ant he was simultaneously stumped and vexed by the situation.
"I presu quietly removing him from the board is still not on the table."
Roland had been hard on Percival since the very beginning. From what I could gather, he just really hated traitors in general, and the old man especially earned his ire when he sold out. Chances are, if it was up to him, Percival would be dead already, but I already fully dedicated myself to a no-kill run, for better or worse. I was on a streak, and I wasn't going to quit until the credits rolled.
Putting the ga-analogies aside, while the threat of the Narrative shifting the tone of the Plot in response to soone getting offed was no longer a major consideration, I kind of felt that changing my stance on the issue this late would've been just a tad too hypocritical. Not to ntion, I went out of my way to preserve Percival's life at a critical juncture, whether he deserved it or not… but then he just had to complicate things, hadn't he?
I shook my head, both to express my exasperation and as an answer to Roland. His shoulders fell in a gesture that scread 'I don't even know why I asked'. It only lasted for a mont though, and then he imdiately assud his usual, straight-backed posture.
"Percival's claims of mory loss are irrelevant, and can safely be ignored for the ti being. His collusion with the enemies of the Ordo Draconis is proven beyond the shadow of a doubt, and his treason was made evident in front of multiple witnesses. Once able, he will have to answer for his cris in front of a tribunal of Entitled Knights, but with such overwhelming evidence arrayed against him, the laws of the Brotherhood would also allow summary judgent upon him without having to observe the full process."
"Let's say we declare him guilty on the spot right now. What are the options for his sentencing?"
Roland crossed his arms, and uttered, "Death penalty by summary execution." He narrowed his eyes at for a mont, and when I didn't react, he deflated a bit. "But since that's out of the question… if we follow the laws of the Ordo Draconis, based on the tenets of the Brotherhood, transgressions of this magnitude would require that we forcefully destroy his Oaths."
"Which I already did," I pointed out, and he nodded along.
"Which you already did," he echoed , sounding a touch more deadpan than usual. "Alternatively, we can follow the laws of the Draconic Federation, mainly based on the rules and traditions of Clan Feilong. Their punishnt for treason involves the permanent crippling of the individual."
"Which I… also did?"
"Yes, you did," Roland echoed once again, followed by a shallow groan. "With that taken into account, all that remains is exile, permanently striking the traitor from the registry of clan mbers. Translated to the Draconic Federation, the equivalent would be banning him from holding office or receiving any benefits from the organization for the rest of his life."
"How would that work in practice?"
"We kick him out, and lock him up under house arrest sowhere out of sight," he summarized, and while it sounded reasonable, I couldn't help but furrow my brows.
"No good."
"Why?" Roland sounded audibly baffled by my stray comnt, and it took a second to figure out how to explain it to him.
The main issue was that sweeping Percival under the rug was just anti-climactic. As much as I would've liked to just permanently get him out of my hair and move on with my life, just stashing him away in so nursing ho and trying to forget about him wasn't feasible. Not only because of the whole ta-taphysical thing with the Simulacrum and the Subrged Ones and the Plot and whatnot, but because it would've felt weird to effectively retire him and write him out of our story, so to speak. Especially after all that he had done. He was a major antagonist, after all.
But to answer Roland's question, I took a shallow breath and told him, "After I went through so much trouble to spare his life, I feel obligated to squeeze so drama—" Cutting myself short, I clicked my tongue and tried again. "I ant to say 'use out of him' first."
"What sort of use are we talking about?"
"I don't know yet." He didn't expect to freely admit that, but after coming this far, I decided to double down. "In any case, I'll give it a try."
Roland eyed for a while, alternating between deadpan stares and annoyed squints, but when I remained unflinching, he soon settled into sothing in-between and rubbed the spot between his brows with visible exasperation.
"If you're sure that's what you want, then I'll consult the Draconic Federation's leadership on the topic."
By that, I was fairly sure he ant he'd talk to Naoren and Abram to find a way to let the old bastard off the hook, even if temporarily, and allow to do my thing. Which, to be fair, even I wasn't entirely clear about yet. Fortunately, while I didn't have Roland's full confidence, I still had his support. That was good enough.
"Thanks." After a beat, I jerked my head towards the door. "In the anti, I'm going to give a crack to Percival and figure out what this whole amnesia business is about."
Sir Griffon nodded, and after waiting a bit to see if I had anything else to add, he gave a curt salute and walked down the hallway, leaving alone in front of the door. Not for long though, as once I steeled my nerves a bit, I reached out for the doorknob and swung it open, visibly startling the man on the bed.
"Leonard? What was this all about?" he asked, an expression of harmless confusion plastered on his face.
I openly disregarded it and walked over to his bedside with steady steps, coming to a halt with a sigh.
"All right, old man. What are you up to?"
"I… don't know…"
"Cut the crap. I seriously don't have the ti for any charades at the mont." Percival's eyes shook, but he still acted the confused elder. It was ti to step up the pressure. "I have a subordinate whose sword doubles as a lie detector. Do I seriously have to get her over here?" I paused for a beat, followed by a growling, "Just fess up already."
I could see the hesitation in his eyes, and after what felt like minutes, his expression slowly but surely morphed into a terrible grimace.
"Oh, for the love of god, Leonard!" His outburst was punctuated by his trying to throw his hands into the air, only to be stopped by the handcuffs. He let out a hiss, less pained and more annoyed, and turned a fiery glare at . "Why can't you just take what I offer and run with it!? What's wrong with you?!"
"Your 'offer' of pretending to be an amnesiac," I stated in a low, flat voice, and the old snake exhaled a groan.
"Yes." Seeing that I wasn't convinced, he made a vague gesture towards the room. "You had both the opportunity and the justification to kill , yet I'm still alive. I'm sure there's a reason for that, so I played along." He paused and made a motion across his lips as if closing a zipper. "I don't rember anything. I don't know anything about Bel of the Abyss, I don't know anything about you two working together, and I don't recall or hold any grudges over being locked up by you. I couldn't have signalled 'I don't pose any threat to you' any harder than that even if I said it out loud!"
I wanted to point out that he just did, and that the way he phrased things sounded like a vague threat along the lines of 'Play along or I will suddenly rember all of those things', but I kept my objections down moved on.
"Was that seriously your plan?"
"I'm not exactly swimming in options," he groused through clenched teeth and pulled on his handcuffs again for illustration. He must've been looking for empathy, but when I didn't show any, he quickly changed gears and adopted a more solemn deanour. "Listen, Leonard. Think about this rationally. I can't do anything right now. I don't have the ans to oppose you, and I have no reason to lie to you. I just… I know there has to be a reason you kept alive, so let's just make a deal, okay? Let bygones be bygones and move forward."
He put a hand forward, asking for a handshake, but I ignored him and let him sweat it out for a few silent seconds.
"You tried to poison my sister," I stated so coldly I surprised myself a bit. "That's not the kind of water under the bridge I will just forget about."
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Percival suddenly burst out, throwing his free hand into the air again and making the handcuffs jangle once more. "You have already taken my Oaths! I can't even feel my limbs anymore! Do you have any idea how that feels?!"
"I know. I had my own experience with mana-burns."
"Then what more do you want?! I can't even walk anymore! I can't even go to the loo by myself!" As if a dam was broken, indignation flowed out of Percival's mouth like a river, and I let it wash over . I didn't care, and I didn't let his words affect . He wasn't going to get any anger or pity out of , yet he continued to yell at anyway. "I'm a wreck, and I'll live the rest of my life as a cripple! You have crippled ! I've lost everything; my reputation, my station, even control over my own goddamn body! My life is already over, and you didn't even let go out on my own terms! What more do you want from ?!"
"I don't know yet," I answered him truthfully. "But I'll figure sothing out. Rest assured; I won't let you just quietly shirk away and avoid the consequences of your actions and the ss you caused."
"Consequences? What is this…" He paused, and vaguely gestured at himself and his bed. "… if not consequences?! Or what?" His face darkened, and his lips bent into an almost delirious grin directly clashing with the icy cold glare of his eyes. "Ha! Do you want to 'atone for my sins', maybe? Seriously? Has the word 'hypocrisy' lost all its aning to you? Or are you just drunk on being the great, righteous King of Knights?"
I waited for him to finish his tirade, and it happened sooner than expected. By this point, Percival was out of breath, and he was heaving as if he just ran a marathon.
"No." Crossing my arms, I levelled a dispassionate stare at him. "Atonent is for people who regret their actions."
"Bah!"
Ignoring his outburst, I shook my head and pointed at him.
"You wanted to make a deal, so here's one for you: I'm going to make use of you. I don't yet know how, but I will make sure of that, whether you want it or not. Sit tight, old man. Your life might be over, but your role in my story only ends when I say so."
Percival's eyes were wide open for a few seconds. Then, he blinked, followed by a strained laughter, interrupted by short coughing fits.
"Ha… Haha! Now… After all this ti, now you sound like yourself again!"
"Oh, shut up," I dismissed him with a wave of my hand, and his chortles soon died down, turning into a wolfish grin.
"Deal," he declared, as if he had a choice in the matter. "Should I keep pretending to be amnesiac, then?"
"… Why?"
"Wouldn't it be more convenient for you?" he asked, slowly returning to his calm, grandfatherly act. "It would be easier to keep around if I'm just a harmless old man without any idea about the current situation, wouldn't it?"
As much as I hated the fact, he did have a point there.
"Sure, let's go with that."
"Okay." He eyed for a while, and after a long beat, he suddenly asked, "Say, Leonard?"
"What?"
"Since I'm cooperating, can I receive so benefits?"
"No."
Following that instant reply, I let the dramatic pause linger for a while before I turned around and left the startled old man's side. When I reached for the doorknob, I could hear him mutter 'Well, it was worth a try' under his breath, but I fully disregarded him and left the impromptu sick room.
It was only once I was outside that I let out a long breath, closing my eyes to center myself again.
Without the instinctive irritation gnawing at my nerves, the discussion ended up a lot simpler than I feared, but also a lot less definitive than I hoped. Knowing the old bastard's personality, I was sure that as long as I offered him a way out, no matter how vague, he would leap for it to save his sorry skin, and he didn't disappoint. The only problem was that… how to put it? I was kind of flying by the seat of my pants there?
I an, we both knew I wasn't going to kill him. I already outlined my reasons for that, and those didn't even count the more Watsonian motivations I had in the back of my head, like how it would make Penny (and even Snowy, despite the way he threatened her) sad. I knew it, he knew, it, and it's why we ended up with this… well, not 'alliance'. Maybe not even 'cooperation'. More of a 'necessary evil' kind of deal.
In the end, I've figuratively locked myself into making him part of my Plot, and I had to figure out how to make good use of him. I needed to create a role for him. Sothing that fit his archetype and made sense in context. Getting him to atone, or make a sacrifice (or most of the other ways villains got redeed in stories) was so wildly out of character for him that they would never work. That ant I needed to figure out how to slot him into the plot in a way that both made sense, wasn't letting him off easy, wasn't too contrived, and he needed so kind of arc with a satisfying conclusion, all the while judging all the other things, and…
"Wow… Narrative- had it hard, didn't he?" I muttered, and suddenly I had a gripping urge to apologize to him for all the chaos I caused in the past. It only lasted for a second though, and I quickly shook the thought out of my head.
There was no point dwelling on this right now, so I got ready to leave, only to stop the mont a creaking noise sounded in the corridor. Turning to face the source, I found the sa servant-entrance linda used to lead here opening up, and a blonde head peeking through the gap.
"Ah, Leo!" Elly threw the door open and skipped over to my side. Her face was flushed, and she looked unusually excited. I an, even by her standards. "I was afraid I'd miss you! Thank goodness!"
"Easy there, princess," I told her even as she grabbed my hand in hers. I wanted to point out that we agreed to et in her room, but before I could get to it, she started pulling towards the open door. "Whoa! Why's the hurry!"
Pausing for a mont, she turned to and flashed a charming grin. The kind that was just a bit smug, and yet oddly attractive. Then, she let go of , put one hand on her hip and pointed a playful index finger at with her palm facing up before raising her voice with audible enthusiasm.
"I found you a hobby!"
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