Scene #7857: It's Cutest When They Resist

Owner	Pose
Undivided Queens	The Democratic Republic of Pharsei has been under siege for weeks. It has been under siege in a different sense for years. Of modest size, yet previously wealthy and secure, and certainly prideful, the recent military action hasn't been news in any more sense than word of mouth beyond this world's borders yet. The sudden resort to desperate Multiversal pleading is, thus, rather abrupt and inexplicable. As these things go, the request leads straight to the heart of the nation; the capital of Arsiene has a population of just under a million people, is densely built up with architecture more colourfully equivalent to a picturebook of the colonial age of sail, spread over the end of a sharp peninsula that goes far out into the southeastern sea, and the only city that still technically is Pharseian. Warm weather even in winter, rocky shores and lush semi-tropical forests, lightly paved but heavily used roads through the countryside, and leagues of glittering silver ocean, surround the venerable clay walls and iron palisades outside. The streets are narrow and winding and usually clustered between tall buildings, whether stacks of wooden shanty or baroquely sculpted quartzite towers. The sound of the waves and gulls and the racket of the dense forests far away pervades everywhere, and little else is to be heard. Most people are quietly indoors on a beautiful day, and those outside are more often bronze-garbed soldiers than the errand boys that scurry past and stubborn elders that persist in public spaces. No one is out in the fields or markets. The only signs of families are those returning home, inexplicably, with identically wrapped up boxes and sacks, covered in rough green cloth; presumably some kind of rationing, perhaps. It takes a minute to realize that none of the ships on the sea are local. Those that aren't still anchored in scorched drydock are simply listing wrecks in the shallows, where the tide doesn't get high enough to fully submerge them. The screen of red sails and silver hulls that lims the horizon all around the peninsula is rather overwhelming even compared to what an ostensible port capital seems to have originally had. Looking from somewhere high, out over the walls and down the main roads to the bowl of lowland beyond, a sprawling army camp --rather, an entire belt of them-- easily blocks off all the dry land. Even here, the sound from the camp is far greater than that within the city; music of drum and flute and stringed zither, yelling and singing and laughing and barked orders, the crackle of wood fires and boiling of water and hammering of steel and creaking of timbers. The colours are bright and vibrant, the smells of food and oil and herbs carry for miles, and a multitude of standards appear to exist under the same common banner, in dense clusters here and there. By all accounts, the occupying force appears to be having a much better time, even all the way out here, in a clearcut fell of their own making. Other than bristling rows of what look somewhat like silver cannons, and ungainly tall wooden towers built far in advance, flying different flags, what stands out most is the festival of tiny glowing lights floating above the entire encampment, like so many paper lanterns let off to float away, mainly visible in the day by being shades of silver and blue. It may have something to do with the fact that the wall defenders seem to have an easy shot into the camp, but haven't fired. Lastly a long procession of heavy wagons are trundling back down the main roads from what seems to have been the city's very gates, returning to the war camp from whence they came. Sort of opposite SOP for a siege.
Tamamo	Though this is presumably still a formal occasion, Tamamo has accounted for both the likely result of her own formal wear being unknown in this area, and the tropical climate. Or, possibly, she's just taking that as her excuse to dress down. Technically, bikinis are perfectly decent. Therefore! A rather simple, oversized white shirt over top of a bikini is practically conservative. QED! It's only with that kind of outfit that one can get away with wearing an overly broad straw hat (with spaces for her ears to pass through), a tote bag, and seastar-decorated sandals as a complete look. "Are the stars too much?" Oh, that's right, Lilian isn't here to ask. She'll just assume she looks wonderful until proven otherwise. Arriving by whatever means of transport was most convenient to run(?) the blockade(?), Tamamo follows the given(?) directions to find the one who sent out a call to aid. Surely they'll shed some light on just what it is they're looking for, and what the present problems faced happen to be. She can tell that there's a siege going on, but there are also people passing back and forth. "Hello~ Might someone give me directions? I am looking for the ones in charge."
Darren	High above the coastal city's skyline, a man stands on nothing but empty air. A blue zip-up hoodie hangs comfortably upon him, one hand simultaneously shading his green eyes and keeping the medium locs from obscuring them. "Damn," he utters. The sounds coming from the camp he's obscuring are not encouraging. Music, laughter, singing. These are the noises of victors, or those who believe they soon will be victors. Who could blame them? Those gleaming ships along the coast certainly aren't local, and they're quite numerous. His phone, hovering beside him, floats lazily back into the pocket of his black track pants. Darren smiles, gently touching down after a brief descent. "You're down three TDs," he says to no one in particular. "You got the ball right now, but what you gonna do with two minutes left in the fourth quarter?" He sighs, hands in his pockets. "Some coaches don't ever take a knee, huh?" "Hey old man!" Darren flags down one of the elders in the aforementioned public spaces. "What you make of this? You gotta feel some type of way, if you're still out here while everybody else is cooped up. When's the last time something like this happened?" It's important to get a feel for how this occupation--because that's very quickly what it's going to be--is going to be seen by the oldest, most set in their ways.
Staren	Staren approaches by broom, looking to see what the situation is before working out how to run the blockade so she can ask the locals for an explanation of the situation... Wait a minute. Oh, it's the queens. So, she can either go talk to the locals, or get a sitrep from allied forces... She actually has to think about this for a bit as she hovers high in the air, before she hits her forehead with the heel of her hand. duh. If there was any talking to be done, Seilatiya already tried it and did a way better job than Staren could ever do. She flies down towards the encampment, asking on radio if the Queens happen to be listening, and if not directed otherwise, just... realizing she doesn't need to bug the two of them, the basic situation she can get from anyone, right? So she'll just ask the first person she finds that's part of the occupying force (and if they're busy, ask the next person, etc) "Hi there! I'm from the Concord. So what's the situation here? Who are these folks, and..." Staren looks at the city in the distance, then back to whoever she's talking to. "Frankly, how come they're still fighting after Seilatiya did her usual 'start fixing all of their problems and just generally be really nice and friendly' thing?"
Rita Ma	Naval blockades generally do not extend far underwater. Out in the shallows of the port, someone walks out of the ocean who hadn't stepped in. She wrings the seawater out of her hair, but it's already sliding off of her with hydrophobic ease. By the time she reaches the city proper, there's no evidence of her origin except a bit of seaweed stuck to her leg. "Errand girl" is a good descriptor for Rita's appearance now. She's dressed less colorfully than the fantasy architecture; her old worn sundress, bleached tan by years of sunlight and a little ragged at the edges, is good enough for blending in with the piled-high shanties. The real sundress, she lost a couple years ago. This is just the memory of it. But thinking about that conjures up feelings that could only get in the way, and so she shoves the thoughts back down again. Her interest is in the poorest parts of town; the disadvantaged, those least likely to have their voices heard by anyone else even in a purported democracy. Where are people talking that she can listen to? What is the general 'vibe'? Are they quietly hoping that the city will fall, are they chafing under the evident rationing, are they scared of an uncertain future? For further information, she finds a moment to duck into a quiet alleyway, pull out the little phone that she's acquired since living with Liza, and call up the local Watch contacts. There always are local Watch contacts. What do they see as the city's problems? Is its imminent fall likely to solve them, or exacerbate them?
Undivided Queens	Being a major city (in this world), Asiene has its own warpgate. Technically, it has a few, but only the centermost shimmering nexus, deep in the densely populated old town, still has anything near it; the others appear to have had their surroundings arranged for trade and travel before, and now glimmer serenely amidst scorched wreckage, indicating the enemy has zeroed them pretty damn well by now. Darren finding the frankly inevitable man old and stubborn enough to smoke outdoors as he has every day since retiring isn't difficult; he has his pick. He's ostensibly ignored for the length of a single pipe drag and thoughtful reminiscence by a salt-skinned elder with a brittle white beard. "Not since m'own father's time." he grumbles disinterestedly. "And his grandfather's. And some times before that. It skips a generation, but someone always gets the idea to try and sack the wealth of Pharsei for themselves. Never did work out for 'em either. Used to be that y'couldn't simply knock down the doors to the center of everything that moves by wheel or sea in the east and get away with it. But, y'know, men back then were made of different stuff." He shakes his head disapprovingly. "Now? Boys don't have the spine for fighting. They don't have the stomach for hard work. The whole load of'em. Half those hiding away are hoping we lose. Pathetic isn't it?" Tamamo is Very Important (and so exotically dressed! wow!) and so has no real difficulty in finding her way around the old town district to a messenger posted to bring word of 'actual reinforcements' from the Warpgate (apparently even told to hope for Paladins), who runs off and brings her back exactly the person who'd posted him there; a woman of dignified older age and proudly severe bearing, hair coiled up close around her head and layers of colourful and breathable robes bound up in gold pins and chains and links; one Senator Haevinti. Rather than discuss anything out in public, Tamamo is invited up to a forum that is currently vacant to talk in the privacy of a one on one plus four burly bodyguards setting.
Darren	"-Half?-" asks Darren, brow as incredulous as his tone of voice. "Mm mm mm. You hate to see the home team throw in the towel so easy." He doesn't hate it. This isn't his home team. But he understands the sentiment. He steps closer to the old man, sea breeze blowing his hoodie lightly behind him like a cloak, revealing an athletic physique not well concealed by the white tee beneath. "What'd make somebody -hope- y'all lose?" asks Darren, extending his hand to grasp a water bottle floated from his drawstring backpack. "They got money riding on it?" A little joke.
Undivided Queens	Rita, poking around the poorer, more heavily wood-built areas further west, finds even fewer people on the streets. Most of what she can hear indoors that isn't stiff and awkward chatter and children asking parents when they can go back outside or if things will be okay is multiple kinds of vehement argument. There's no shortage of voices she can hear that blame their current destitution on the intentional long-term schemes of the invading empire, but there are those equally fed up with this long period of restless waiting, without work, for something terrible to happen, while more important people go above their heads and clutch their pearls. There's arguments in every few households about whether the pride of the nation is worth this, whether they even have any future economically if they don't give up, whether this that and the other neighbour might be a traitor, and even ample sentiment that they just get it over with and surrender. The most common agreement seems to be that, regardless of how unconvinced any given house is that resisting is a good option, none of them are eager to listen to 'an empress', and give up 'their vote and their work', often 'their rights', sometimes 'their gods'. A pervasive fear of cultural obliteration mixes in with something that is harder for Rita to grasp, but the fear of survival is nowhere in the mix; despite the cold dread over many tables, nobody really seems to suffer that same terror as they would of pirates or sea monsters; that they may be simply pillaged and left to die. The Watch network is actually fairly well informed about this one right now. The country she's in has been a small but very rich sea-state for a very long time, with a commanding hold of trade routes and colonial exports all around the coast and across the near ocean. It's been founded on a caste-based work system and reaping windfall after windfall from overseas explorations and taking advantage of major resource booms, and there's so much money invested in it from other nations, that rely on it for so many staple exports, that someone always gets the idea to attack it, and then gets their asses beat by someone else for trying. In the past years, it has suffered a precipitous economic decline, as the empire to the west --Algywlll-- underwent a massive economic revolution, leveraging its specific magic resources and overturning its entire economic model to flood the continent with cheap alternatives to things everyone wants, which has gradually gutted the country. With the trade economy collapsed from under it, there's been mass unrest and dissention in the ranks, as various towns and villages vote their way out of their problems and willingly joined a rolling eastward annexation; Algwyll has committed, apparently to a well-timed campaign across the country to 'buy out' failing towns, and isolate them from repeated military actions to try and reclaim them. Nobody is really interested in coming to Pharsei's aid this time; Algywll has become a much cheaper trade titan to deal with, and also increased its military strength by triple in less than the past decade, and old allies are just sort of waiting to see what happens. The locals feel abandoned and betrayed by fellow nations that were once the backbone of their livelihood and safety; the future staring them in the face is that of giving up everything they know now and being absorbed into a monotheistic non-representative imperial monolith. There are two major standout concerns: One is a widepsread belief that the Holy Empress uses a form of mind control magic to keep her subjects in line, which would explain the rash of surrenders and has people generally terrified, and the other is her alliance with western barbarians whom are generally considered to be 'probably just waiting for the go ahead to rape and pillage and commit cannibalism.'
Tamamo	You can clearly tell that Tamamo is Very Important because she's the one with, despite them otherwise looking like beach sandals, the insanely high-platformed shoes. That's how it works in most worlds. Naturally, she goes along with the senator while politely ignoring the bodyguards. "Senator Haevinti, is it? Know that I am Tamamo-no-mae. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." It takes a special level of skill to have such total control over one's social expression to make rote responses feel genuine without going so far as to violate the understood ritual of being 'merely, expectedly polite.' "I am here of the Paladins, in response to your summons, though I am without a great deal of knowledge in the particulars. Might you illuminate these points? To be more specific, I wish to know the nature of the forces that place your fair city under siege, and what it is you wish for another to do in response."
Undivided Queens	Staren is intercepted the second she mentions Seilatiya's name, as is her luck, by a seven foot tall, tanned and ridiculously built soldier in 'the lower half of his battle rattle' and red tattoos (and little black scales around his joints?), who all but drags her off to a space set up on the green under a smaller and more unique banner where the rest of his unit are cooking and playing dice games. Given that she is 'clearly a friend of the Alliance', she's insistently offered her own share of expertly seared steak and stew about six times too many before any talking gets done. She is informed, quite quickly, that "The fighting hasn't even begun! Not really! Not yet!" and that "They'll get to it when the banks run dry." A short discussion of 'the strategy' follows. Seilatiya is not actually overseeing this campaign; Isahane is, as is her calling, and is probably somewhere in the camp. Isahane had all of the ships sunk and redoubts levelled along the way here to close everything in, and then has the Imperial Artillery ranged on all the Warpgates but the one that is too close to too many civilians, and has her best Ilenjeh scouts in the area to intercept anyone leaving the city and to spy on the internal condition of it. The usual process for the siege is starving them out and allowing disease to spread until it breaks the defender's will and they surrender. However, Seilatiya has specified a collaborative strategy: after allowing them to buy supplies Multiversally, at massive markup, for as long as the coffers held out, she advised Isahane to wait until the biggest trading companies and political clans would have to start footing the bill themselves, and take advantage of the opportunity. 'Enough' Runecipher-produced food and medicine (and even things like tobacco) surplus is being sent up into the city every day, where the administration has no real choice but to accept and ration it unless they want to spend their own money, and months of functionally 'already being on the Empire for life support' should convince the regular people of who is actually on their side. The moment it becomes a violent civil revolt, Isahane is prepared to sweep in and support the commoners by crushing the garrisoned military, and appointing whichever populists were able to spark it as the replacement politicians. The reason why this is still ongoing is very simple: 'Because the Empress says it's normal. Of course they wouldn't want to end their old lives and bend knee to a stranger. Just because they're a democracy doesn't mean everyone gets what they want; if their public figures don't vote to give up, they won't give up, no matter how much they might want it.' It's a rather ruthless sort of exploit.
Undivided Queens	The old man Darren finds grumbles his acknowledgement. "Probably. Maybe more. Who knows. Little more every day I think. I'm too old to be fighting or working, so whatever I decide doesn't matter. I just shake my head for 'em and shed a tear for every m'own father built up for us." Removing his pipe to waggle in Darren's direction as he explains, he says "Of course they got money riding on it! Who doesn't? Ten years ago any man could make an honest living here! Five years ago half of 'em ended up working useless jobs for the other half just to find something to put their hands to! Now it's ten to one! Nobody appreciates the blood and sweat our forefathers went into building up our nation! All the risks they took overseas, all the talents and knowledge they passed down, all the hard labour and expert crafts; what's that to some fascist who can snap their fingers and make 'almost as good' for half the price, eh?! They're so broken down that all they want now is to go back to work, even if it's shining an imperial boot! Instead of building back up to what things were like before, they'd all rather give up and get in line to take hand-outs and get stepped on!" He is, definitively, an old man. "'course it doesn't help our boys are useless. Anyone can see what the sides look like. Ours are only going to fight as long as it's the only way to still get paid. Theirs are fighting because they think they're really following some kind of goddess. Like they're going to 'save us'. Not right is what it is. The young ones here especially are too vulnerable to those people's big promises and stage debauchery. They think that's what it's gonna be like. All fun and games, and not having their brains melted out their ears by a witch queen and put to work."
Undivided Queens	Tamamo's sit-in with the senator, in plushly upholstered seats before polished desks in a cavernous, empty room, tells her much the same story as being pieced together elsewhere. However, her conversational partner, perhaps in her fifties and perfectly shrewd, is significantly more frank with Tamamo than she necessarily would have to be. "--and so after staging the deliberate economic ruin of our nation, the destruction of our way of life, and the gutting of our coffers and silos with which to care for our people, the last step of the trap is sprung, as you can see. Making the people believe that anything is better than clinging to the sinking ship of their history. Giving up their gods, their homes, their democracy, selling their souls, to the foreign invader, to escape the inequality that they've manufactured." "I'll tell you right now that if it were a stand-up fight, we wouldn't have a chance. Our historical allies have refused to come to our aid. The Empire was plunged into civil war for years, and we all expected to be able to take advantage of it, but the rate they've grown again has been unprecedented, as has their dissolution of all of their isolationist policies, and the alliance with the western barbarians. Now even our allies are too reluctant to risk war with the unknown, and may as well bet on our failure for as little as it will dent their pockets." "It's grim, to say the least. This isn't a matter of men and gold; the balance of power has been this badly upset by, gods forgive me for saying so, the intervention of divinity. The Empire's power is unnatural. They claim it the work of a goddess, and I'm inclined to believe there's a reason for it. Their absurd adoration of their empress. Their suicidal loyalty and zealotry. The way they talk and act and go about their work. It's unnatural. They're under a spell. And the flow of goods with which they've destroyed trade across the continent could only be called a 'miracle'." "I believe this is definitively the concern of the Paladins, no? That a witch woman, or gods forbid, an Elder Deity, might have us, and the rest of the continent, in her sights. Overturning generations of blood and sweat and gold with a snap of her fingers. 'Gently' drowning our future and our independence under a single totalitarian rule, where people are controlled and coerced by unnatural power 'for their own good'. This is exactly why people like that aren't permitted to lead in the civilized Multiverse, no?"
Staren	Staren looks uuuup. Somehow, it feels vaguely weird to be faced with someone that tall who isn't female or a robot. She shoos that thought away to focus on where she's being led to and what's being explained. Oh hey, food! "That smells good." She tucks her scarf out of the way and retrieves a napkin from her bag to cover her shirt, happy to take a share... maybe even part of a second, if it's tasty enough, but she can only eat so much before politely declining and packaging the rest of serving 2 up in a sample container for later. She can listen while she eats. Staren frowns slightly at the bit about disease, concerned for the civilians... oh. She nods after the plan is explained. "Really clever... The sort of thing we need people like Seilatiya to think up." She sits and looks thoughtfully at nothing for a bit as she turns the plan over in her head, wrapping her brain around the situation. She also imagines what would happen if the Queens came for Lazlo, for perspective. Yeah, people probably wouldn't vote for it. Even if Plato said he'd divined it was for the best, that would probably be the thing that finally ends his getting endlessly re-elected. "I wish there were a way to convince the people faster... but I'm sure if there were, Seilatiya would have tried it." Still, she'll try forwarding that question to her AI back at the lab anyway. "So... you're basically hanging around here doing, well, whatever you normally do when not at war, while making sure to be a visible military presence?" She looks out over the camp. "You get to live well, the people of the city are cared for, and it all works out for the best..." Staren shakes her head. "The Queens really do have it all worked out..." Staren looks up at whichever soldier was most recently talking with her. "So is there anything you need any help with, here?"
Undivided Queens	Staren is eagerly greeted by the others, whom she can presume are some of Isahane's Ilenjeh war host integrated with the Imperial military, who begin talking up a storm about the genius of the idea, and their own theories. A mere two of the ten are female. She's told that their orders here are 'to eat well, sleep well, play well, train well, pray well, and make merry where the misguided idiots can see and hear you', and 'await the moment that we crush the lapdogs of another nation'. They appear to be supremely confident in their prospects, to have absolute faith in Isahane, and appreciate the wisdom they believe is shown by Seilatiya too. They do tell her something rather curious, though. Staren's predictive modelling shows that this could just be over, if Seilatiya or her 'apostles' were to simply 'bless' the capital as they have the Holy City, make some speeches, give out luxuries that the common people don't get, and do some riling and convincing; especially if Isahane's scouts were simply to harass and terrify the army into deserting, or even sabotage their fortifications and arms stockpiles. They have the means to discourage the soldiers from still looking tough to keep their paycheque, and they have the means to subvert the people, but they're specifically waiting for the capital city to boil until something cracks on its own. Specifically, 'Seilatiya thinks it's right that they be allowed to resist her'. Isahane won't allow them to win, but she has put her weight in behind the idea that it is important for these people to wrestle through it on their own, lose on their own, and decide to change on their own, rather than having the objectively correct decision made for them. The way they attempt to convey it to Staren is deeply rooted in a lot of cultural idioms and local philosophies she isn't familiar with. For whatever reason, it is considered important to have 'the enemy' stew themselves and suffer until they make the first move to change things, otherwise what they want to bring them into 'won't stick'.
Tamamo	Tamamo listens, nodding seriously, and managing not to look any paler by the end only because she is (and continues to be, despite her beachside exposure) pale enough, already. "A nation, that is, an empire ruled by right of divinity, is not so strange at all, in the histories of my knowledge, though those were rarely so directly supported as you suggest, true divinities being rarely so personally caring." Yes, she would know. "This is certainly just the sort of thing as the Paladins do forbid, and as some others, by contrast, do encourage." Though she's never been very idealogically motivated, herself, she does have at least some opinion on the issue, and would have leaned toward the Paladin side of thing, under... at least half of imaginable circumstances. "It does not seem, however, that there is a path of victory that remains open to you, should this empire have such resources to so freely expend, that even to make their conquest costly is a viable method. It is a grim situation, to be sure, and whether my own aid would suffice to resolve your worries is doubtful. I may go and request a greater effort, but whether it would be swift or slow, I could not be certain. Whether witch-queen or deity descended, the dangers are great." She thinks back. Has she ever heard of Algwyll...? No, it has not been spoken by any voice she's had occasion to hear. "In the grimmest of situations, fleeing by your remaining warpgate remains one possibility, though it would be to never return to this place. Before the threat of ensorcelment, I would take this route, were I to stand in your place. Arranging for the care of refugees would be a simpler matter for me, compared to convincing a divine empire to turn away, and allow independence to be retained." Tamamo spreads her hands in a helpless gesture. "With the plan in mind that I should request greater aid than I can offer, myself, and the assumption that they should arrive in time, it remains to ask what else you know of the besiegers, now, that would be useful to those seeking to fight them." She adds to that, "Beyond this, I may look to take what measure of their forces that I can, and though there is much I could do to halt an army, this would be a solution to your problems only if they should also see fit to leave, once halted, and then not to return, and it is the unlikelihood of this that requires I caution no expectation of a swift solution. The momentum of nations is not easily reversed."
Darren	"Oh, damn, y'all reached that stage this quickly?" Again, Darren is surprised. He takes a 'seat' on the empty air, his posture that of someone sitting backwards in the chair. His arms are even propped up, as if there were a back upon which to rest them. "The commodification of labor--this place pre-industrial?" he ponders. After a pause, he chuckles. "Y'all must've been better at the shell game than most places." "Gold's a psyop invented by psychic vampires, by the way," Darren boldly explains, gesturing with both hands. "Currency in general is a psyop. The best players accumulate most of it and then buy labor from the worse players, for cheaper than it's worth. Then they use the rest of that wealth to sit pretty. It's persistent, too--try to make rules and it always flows 'round 'em." Pointing behind him, eyes still on the old man, "You don't have to believe me," he says. "That's just what always happens once this societal model progresses to this stage." Standing up from the 'chair' with a sigh, "Yeah... the Paladins'd be worried about the Empire, prolly," admits Darren, doing a few warm-up stretches. "Divinities too, I guess. Gotta defend 'civilization,' keep the peace and all that ish. 'Peace' is a funny thing, feel me? Bet people thought it was 'peaceful' before the Empire rolled up. But 'happy...' funny how that one doesn't always go with 'peaceful.'" Bouncing lightly on his feet, Darren chuckles. "You said yourself people don't wanna fight. Maybe it's not the players, is all I'm saying. Maybe it's the game. Dudes outside the walls sound like they're havin' a good one." He shrugs. "Something to think about." "Who's in charge of y'all, anyway--I mean, you and me know it's the gold drones, but, I'm talkin' de jure. Not de facto."
Rita Ma	Having soaked up the local ambiance from the shanties, and gotten off the phone with her Watch contacts, Rita is left with her head swimming with ideas. She finds her way to someplace quiet- a park, she decides; any kind of inn or restaurant is likely to be closed with all the rationing- and finds someplace nice to sit down, maybe near a fountain or a pond. She tries not to think about why the sound of water makes her feel comfortable. She's got too many thoughts on the pile already. Rita rummages a little aqua-blue notebook with a cute 'stars and planets' design on the cover out from her satchel. A pink glittery pen follows it a moment later. The former is spread open in her lap; the end of the latter taps against her teeth. Western barbarians Undemocratic "Buyouts" Gunpoint negotiation Mind control magic The first one she squints at with rising mistrust. 'Barbarians'. Is that really a way that a whole civilization actually is? Or is it just a kind of story people tell? I've heard it a lot of times, and I've met a lot of people who were really foreign and strange. But I've never really met a whole people that just want to hurt others 'because'. Tentatively, she scratches that one through. The second one is more abstract to her. Workers' councils and votes and everything make sense to me. When the Union Busan did that, it worked out great, didn't it? But there's other places where it hasn't been as good. Where somehow, even though the people are supposed to make decisions, some of them are still un-cared-for and poor. She spares a glance back over her shoulder, at the high-piled shanties next door to palatial crystal towers, and grimaces. If it's not solving the people's problems anymore, is it really a good in itself? ... I don't know. She starts to mark that one through, too, but stops halfway. On to the third and fourth, then. If the people of a town want to leave a country, it's wrong to make them stay. That's obvious, isn't it? So the 'buyouts' are fine. But then, why are they laying siege to this place? Isn't it good enough to buy up everywhere that wants to join them, and stop them from sending armies to take those places back? Instead, they're blockading them to make them cave. Isn't that a kind of violence? "Buyouts" are struck through. "Gunpoint" remains. The last one is the most severe. Her body tenses up just looking at it. Is that really true? It sounds like a story that could be made up, just like 'barbarians'. But unlike barbarians... I really have seen mind control magic. Like in that temple, with Bercilak and Hibiki. If they're really mind-controlled, we'd have to fight them- no, we'd have to free them somehow. But how can I tell? Rita takes in a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and closes the notebook. It, and the pen, go back in her satchel. "There's nothing else I can do for it," she murmurs, finding her way back to one of the city's gates. The wagons are leaving. She turns invisible for just a moment, hops into the last one, and slips into one of the empty boxes with her Imouto Stealth Powers. Then there's nothing to do but wait until they bring her into the camp. It feels nostalgic somehow.
Undivided Queens	The senator has to massage her temples at the difficult but predictable news from Tamamo. "I'd worried it might be so. I'm sure we can continue to hold out here for a time while our case crosses many desks and arrives before foreign crowns, as has been the way of our nation for centuries. Fleeing, though . . . Some might take that, but I doubt many. Only those that fear the foreign goddess too greatly to stay." "They have no work here. The food they eat is the enemy's. Their childrens' sandals were delivered to us and we had to take them. We've done nothing to earn their loyalty; most of the clans and companies are hoping for someone else to solve everything while they keep what they own, and the rest are waiting to see how they can land a high position in the new order they see coming; rehearsing their parts to climb higher. If we were to beg the people to flee with us, who couldn't protect them, who wouldn't feed them, who accepted the enemy's mercy, then where would we go? Unless there is work and food and freedom somewhere we can promise they will land, they'd simply be running into the arms of more of the same, but without the enemy's mercy to feed them." "I'm sure most would consider that surrender enough, and rather defect and keep their homes, rather than face that uncertainty. Where will you put so many souls? If that is the best the Paladins can guarantee, when all is said and done, we will have no choice but to accept it, but I cannot simply convince the people to flee into nowhere and hope. They've already run out of that. They're angry enough that many even question whether the enemy's dominion of the mind is even real, and not just some fantastical fabrication of their leaders." (Un?)fortunately, after Darren gets stared at like a crazy person by some old sailor who has worked his entire life and never heard of a psychic vampire, and mainly the response "What good's happy if it's not your choice? How good's happy if you didn't earn it?", he is ultimately, well-meaningly, ignorantly, guided to the exact same place Tamamo was taken, as per orders of 'when Multiversal people come looking for whoever's in charge to talk to' previously established.
Staren	Staren ends up talking to the big cheese herself about her plans over the radio. "It seems like there's nothing to do, then, but to keep doing what you're doing. Eventually, the people who are opressed in the current order will probably realize it's not worth fighting for... and those doing the opressing will run like the cowards they are when they can no longer pay people to fight for them, one way or another." "We can't hurry it, like the Queen said. Seems like it's all in hand if we just wait. Beat. Staren sighs. "Why do I have a feeling it won't be that simple..." She rests her chin on her hand, and her elbow on the table or her knee. "There's gonna be a complication. If only I had a way to see it coming and do something..." Beat. Staren groans and facepalms. "Right. If I saw that job posting, plenty of others will have too... and those outside the Concord won't get what you're trying to do here. What was it Arthur said, about how heroes always end up manipulated by shady folks? Well there's shady folks running the show in there, and the call has been sent out..." Staren stands up and stretches, hands together over her head. Her tail stretches out straight behind her, too, as she does so, then drops back into a relaxed stance. "Right. So. We're probably going to have to deal with incoming heroes. Do you have any sort of 'meddling heroes' protocol? Come to think of it... Some must have shown up before, right? If not at previous conquests, then to stop the Queen and the Empress from upending the old order, right? What did your people do to counter them, then?"
Undivided Queens	Rita has no real issue climbing aboard the last of the departing wagons. The most there really is to notice is that every box is stamped red with a very noticeable imperial family emblem, and there is no green cloth to be found anywhere; they've probably been picked up by the city, divided up and rationed out as the government sees fit, and homes have picked them up individually like that so the emblem isn't ever shown on the streets and everyone can pretend the government is still in control of the situation. The imoutomobile trundles downhill, getting closer to all of those sounds and smells from an army told to fuck around and show off how great it is to be them. It's like she's at a carnival. It's impossible to feel any tension in the air. The only blood is from freshly slaughtered meat. She can scarcely hear so much as an argument anywhere. Staren's answer is terribly simple: "If that happens, then we crush them. That's what happens in a fight; one of you wins. The line between pointlessly cruel and stupidly forgiving isn't thin. The Empress' 'protocol' is a good one-- we don't honour those who fight for bad reasons. Our Queen's 'protocol' is even simpler! Crush them with our full strength and keep moving forward! Let them grieve about their loss and accept their new place with the dignity of a warrior!"
Tamamo	"It is so, I could guarantee a people care for a time, but it is a great undertaking, and yours would not even be the only city's worth of people to whom I would need offer aid in a pair of months. This is only to say of my own, personal guarantees, and not that I am aware, as of this moment, as to the full extent of Paladin resources. Still, should you fear mental dominion, it is a risk that I would take." She gives a sad, sympathetic smile at the mention of 'loyalty.' "Yes, I can see how the pieces have been played. Should there be no true danger, it would be their safest choice -- indeed, their only reasonable choice -- to consider only that they surrendered under favorable terms. I cannot give my approval to the force of arms, but the turning of history more rarely cares for 'that which should be.' That is to say, the reality of war is an unkind one."
Staren	Staren nods to the warrior, thoughtfully. "Sensible." She doesn't say that something doesn't sound quite right, though. This part of the plan is entirely reasonable. But... the shape of the world isn't always reasonable. And changing it by force doesn't... sound... if it were that straightforward, the world would look different... The visiting catgirl furrows her brow and strokes her chin, not even sure if she's onto something or just seeing patterns that aren't there. The Queens are writing history here. And they have ample experience doing so. Could there really be anything they've overlooked this time...?
Staren	The radio is dumb and knocks Staren out of her thoughts. She tries to get back to them. Hmm. "Why are... you here?" She asks the soldier who was talking the most. "You specifically, here specifically. And... who else here, is... The most... Is there like a rising star here in the army looking to prove herself? Himself, themself. Who will no doubt end up facing the heroes personally and... so getting involved in how the chips fall? Besides the Empress herself." Staren paces back and forth. "Gah. Maybe I'm just overthinking things." Her muttering gets less sensible. "Trying to find the linchpins the future will balance on... Maybe I've just seen too much craziness... time travelers, destinies, heroes..." "I just wonder if there's a way to get ahead of things and shape what's coming, rather than just running around in the shape someone else made... I trust Isahane to make a good shape, but others are going to come and warp it... Maybe it can be warped the other way...?"
Undivided Queens	The account given of the imperials to Tamamo is, of course, lensed through the realities of 'what someone on the other side can know', but complete enough to be intimidating. Despite the empire having been plunged into a succession crisis and civil war within the same decade, still within semi-recent memories, its military capacity has exploded rather than dwindled. The empire has always been especially powerful for its ethnic magic involving the creation of complex physical things out of raw mana, but previously it was an art mostly restricted to the nobility and those of means and status. The new empress has somehow proliferated it out into practically the entire empire's hands, and is herself the most powerful user of it in an age, said to possess the blood of a goddess, a holy relic, and beauty that brings men to tears and drives them to murder. She has allegedly ensorcelled a 'barbarian queen' of the 'western tribes' in the near-uninhabitable lands beyond, and used their combined armies to push herself up to the throne over the bodies of her sisters who exiled her. The barbarians are said to be giants who have turned to dark gods and profane rituals to strengthen themselves against the terrors of the west, and generally have a fearful reputation as warriors on the battlefield. Otherwise the issue is that the army is vast, incredibly well-equipped with magically produced and powered arms of 'the latest technology', and its soldiers seem to feel no fear, have perfect morale, heal swiftly and die seldom. Since the soldiers themselves have a mass-produced version of the Imperial Art, they need no supply chains in particular either; it's impossible to cut them off, starve them, or impede their progress meaningfully. People are genuinely scared that some forgotten deity really is backing them, or that the Empress has struck some bargain with a darker thing in her exile to the west, and nobody looks forward to being bombed into the ground by nearly immortal soldiers and bloodthirsty superhuman savages, who are ostensibly having a good time 'saving the world' by making everyone obey their rulers. The campaigns themselves are headed only by the 'barbarian queen', who is allegedly either cursed, possessed, half-dragon, a demon in disguise, or patronized by one or the other or both, who is considerably less merciful.
Rita Ma	Even curled up in a little box, Rita processes the significance of that symbol and its being covered up with green cloth. That explains the 'gunpoint negotiation' a little bit better. They want to show that they care about Pharsei's citizens than its rulers and wealthy people do. Poking her head out of the crate, she steals one last glance back at the high-walled city and its crystal spires. And they're right, aren't they? Unless it's all a show of some kind... the wealthy still won't give up their wealth to support their neighbors. More important to come out on top than to make it all together. The scales of her opinion tip just a little further. The sheer absence of tension in the war-camp is a little unsettling, given that "possible mind control" is one of the things she's here to investigate. There's an intimidating amount of noise all around, but most of it is joyous, and none of it angry. It's disorienting, is what it is. For several long moments she stays in the cart, tempted to just cover her ears with her hands and shut her eyes. This was definitely a bad idea. And what if they mind-control her too?? ... It's the scent of blood (not human, unfortunately- no, fortunately!!) that finally lures her out. She looks exactly like she could be a poor urchin girl from the city already, so if the soldiers really are nice, she won't have any trouble, right? Fingers crossed. She follows that smell to wherever it leads- a fire, a kitchen, maybe an animal pen- being sneaky but not invisible. If they saw me decloak, it could be bad. Once there, she presents as "a poor orphan refugee girl" who's found her way into camp, and hasn't eaten in tragically long, and please could they spare some meat? That should be a nice gateway into seeing how they plan to treat the people of Pharsei, and whether they behave in an obviously 'brainwashed' manner in general. It's all true, only leaving out the parts about being a Multiversal and a horrifying monster.
Undivided Queens	The soldier laughs when Staren even asks that question. "I am here because War Queen Dragon-Eater has never once lead us astray! I will be first through the gates when the war in the streets begins! I will run down the dogs who have chosen to be remembered the last, blind guardians of the the Perverse Way, and I will bathe in their blood as their own people sing our praises! And then I will follow our Queen to the next conquest! And the next! Slaying greater worms! Toppling greater graves! I will watch from the frontlines as the Ilenjeh run free through the ancestral lands, and far into the east, and be remembered as the saviours of men! Hahaha!" "You have a most amusing idea of who the heroes are! But rest easy. Though we all wish for that glory, our battle-thirst cannot compare to War Queen Dragon-Eater! If worthy foes should show themselves, it will be she who destroys them! With Ilenjeh skill and spirit and Imperial tactics and steel!"
Undivided Queens	More than anything, when Rita is tactically 'caught' sneaking around, she is greeted with astonishment that she's out here at all. One soldier calls out more, and then soon a small crowd has formed, the first one crouching down asking her a lot of questions about if she has siblings nearby, if her family came with her, if she needs to go back for them, and then looking rather sad (and forcing a smile anyways) when she purports to be a starving orphan. She is led along to an outdoor mess, where a crew of those taller and darker (and slightly, semi-randomly, mutated(?)) people are butchering the carcasses of some large game animals they've clearly hunted and hauled back (somehow) from nearby, passing it all along to a kitchen line of ordinary (and unusually skilled) army cooks under a flashy silk tentrow, or else to some of their kinsmen who are more interested in direct grilling and broiling and stews. The imperial soldiers and the huntsmen have very different builds, appearances, customs, and apparently different languages, but get along eerily well. Better than brothers. There's no order of call to get fed; people simply wander in and help themselves to pots and trays heated by little magical fires, trying out the things that grow locally, getting midday buzzed, and relaxing. The main thing that seems to unify them, other than their unit emblems and imperial patch, is the fact that all of them possess a geometric crystal, usually a tetrahedron or cube, attached to a small array of folding metal pieces, that follows them around everywhere like a trained sparrow. They apparently use these crystals to cause little things --forks, knives, mugs, cushions, dice, boards, books-- to appear and disappear at whim, treating possessions and resources with no particular care. Rita is of course immediately heaped with affection by the cooks --a mix of men and women of expert age and young apprenticeship both-- who make a group effort to lavish her with a comfortable place to rest and foist food and hydration on her, and begin the same battery of questions all over. A couple of the huntsmen are very interested in how she escaped, as that'd indicate a hole in their surveillance, or possibly a way in. It definitely feels strange. The total absence of suspicion, fear, tension, homesickness. They all really, really believe in being here. They aren't just paid, or this is simply the way they know how to live; they treat this all as if it's personally important to them. They might argue a little, but never fight. They don't seem to notice each other's differences in a meaningfully frictionable way. They have none of that mental 'cloud of death' over them that a soldier on a battlefield should feel. It's definitely unnatural. The way they communicate is too open, too free, too understanding, too absence of stress and subtext, to feel right. But this army camp is undoubtedly a happier household than the ones she'd passed to get here.
Staren	The soldier's attitude is infectious, and Staren smiles, dropping her hands and nodding. "Yeah. Maybe I'm just overthinking things." "So, is there anything you need help with, or shall I just... relax, and see what festivities are afoot?" Absent a specific thing to investigate, she may just... wander around and take in the atmosphere. There was that time that the Empress told Concord visitors about her past and her history, but... maybe it helps to get a feel for the culture from seeing it at play? Even if it's not Staren's particular style, she should probably try to become a little more aware of it.
Darren	"Thanks, man," Darren genuinely offers to the old sailor. Met with Tamamo and the senator, he greets the former first. "Hey, what's good?" he says, moving in for a cool kid handshake that's entirely at odds with someone as formal as Tamamo. In from the side, hook the thumbs--no chestbump, though, that's for friends, and they're just acquaintances. "Darren Spears," he greets them both, snapping the 'lapels' of his hoodie. "Concord Partner, enlightened scientist." he says. "I've been apprised of the situation--by your request, by our own intelligence, and from some legwork on my end." "Senator--you're elected. But financiers, lenders, 'captains of industry,' they're not. That class is arguably responsible for the continued failure of this socioeconomic model, throughout numerous worlds and histories." He steeples his fingers, angling his head back towards the entrance. "There's two minutes left in the fourth quarter and you barely got any points on the board. You're not gonna win, but maybe you can score. That's not nothing." "Put forth a challenge to 'em. I know you got lines of contact," he says, holding up a hand. "Tell 'em if they wanna keep living the good life, then they--not the soldiers--gotta come out and fight for it. I know the people in that camp'll give 'em a fair shot. I'd give 'em a fair shot." "If any of 'em actually take you up, maybe that inspires the soldiers to do it too. And if not, you can act like they were the problem the whole time, cut 'em, and look good for the fans." He shrugs. "Just a suggestion."