hadriel | ✤ One. (voice;)

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✤ One. (voice;)

[The Network. As useful as it may be, Regis is quite hesitant to use it. Why? Well, there's plenty of reasons 'why' but none any better than the fact there's depraved criminals lurking about. How depraved? Those twisted enough to devour the corpse of their victims for all to behold. His brief conversation with one of these killers completely stamped out all of Regis' desire to converse with others in his realm.

That is until now.

After speaking with Faith regarding this sinful realm and the deities who rule it, Regis decided now was the time to seek an audience with the alleged "Gods". Though, how is he to speak with them? It's not as if they broadcast themselves on here often. Since Regis has arrived, these so-called deities been silent, oddly so. Still quite anxious about using this Network as a means of contacting these False Gods, Regis eventually does speak after a moment of deep contemplation.]

I humbly beseech any and all who knows of the "Gods" to speak plain and true.

[His voice is quiet but not without certainty. He's a king after all. Hesitation isn't permitted even in strange matters such as this.]

The last several weeks have been quite daunting to plenty and many who've endured great hardships. Bonds have been broken and friendships lead askew by murderous endeavors of those who perverted the good image of many. With this known to all of us here, I think now would be the time for the Gods to speak.

Is it in hubris alone that 'Fear' and 'Hope' would steal others away from their rightful worlds for the sake of this war of attrition? If so, there's much to discuss and I'm willing to do so in private if the public channels ill-suits any who speaks.

[He ends the recording with that for now. It seems as good a place to end it. Now the wait begins...]

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[Tardiness isn't allowed. Maketh huffs. Who does he think she is?

It occurs to her then that Regis truly does not know. The double will have left him with doubts. Some of them, at least, must be corrected. He's connected to more than a few people in Hadriel and a man with his background will doubtless seize some influence, given enough time. Better to have him as an ally than a hinderance or - even worse - an enemy. Thus, she must make a good impression.

Or at least a passible one.

She arrives promptly, her new uniform (hunting jacket, armored chest-plate and boots) shining and ironed into submission. Though she doesn't carry the sword, she has a knife and pistol holstered at her side. Everything looks as it ought to. She checked.

She knocks on the door once, twice, and stands at attention when it opens.]

Hello, Regis.

[Truth be told, even Regis is shocked by how far his words have reached. He had hoped to reach the ears of the Gods but they've chosen to ignore him. Contacting them in private is the next step but that is a task for another day and a task he given to Noctis. His son is anxious to assist him and Regis won't spurn his aid. This is why he haven't gone through the task of contacting the deities himself.]

Ah, Maketh! [He greets the woman with such a smile once he opens the door.] I'm truly grateful to see you unharmed before me. Oh, please come in!

[Regis quickly shuffles out of the threshold so the guardswoman could enter. He'll even reach for her coat if she has one. The King of Light is a hospitable host.]

Does all bode well, Maketh? I...I do realize that we meet upon a somber note now that the shadows have passed. [He speaks of the doppelganger.] Believe when I say that I wish not to presume too much but I'm concerned.

[Maketh inclines her head politely and steps inside. Inside, the apartment is neatly maintained and clean. Regis either takes pride in how things look or simply can't stand a mess. Curious.

She doesn't remove her coat and clasps her hands behind her back, watching him.]

What concerns you, then?

[The question makes him frown somewhat as he ushers the woman towards the livingroom. Just a few weeks ago, there was blood on these floors and medical equipment laid askew as Regis stitched up Lunafreya upon that very same taupe colored couch. Now there's not even a hint of the chaos that once plagued this room. It's neat and orderly with charming royal blue curtains covering the tall windows and each oak mini table meticulously cleansed for every speck of dust. Regis did his best to push away any thoughts about that nightmarish evening.]

It comes as no surprise that the shadow that took your form said some rather--

[A pause.]

Disturbing things. One of which mentions you aligning yourself with Imperial edicts.

[The look he gives Maketh borderlines upon worry and slight fear. He barely knows anything about the guardswoman other than her name. That he's quite aware of but he didn't think to label her on the same imperialistic rhetoric as the Niflheim Empire.

That's a bit much for Regis to take.]

Maketh. [His voice is gentle.] Who are you really?

[That's a bold thing to ask. But at the end, Regis is still a king. One's nature does not abandon them easily, even when tangled in Hadriel's madness. A king would believe he is entitled to the information, that it should be offered promptly and arranged in the most effective way possible, that--

Stop that. Straighten your shoulders. Do not glare.

Maketh thins her mouth, unsmiling. Regis has been polite to her. What needles her is his title and - perhaps - how well he carries is. A sentiment entirely unsuitable for a guardswoman, regardless of what she was before.

But he does deserve the truth. She owes him that much.]

I am Maketh Tua. Apparently I am the captain of the Guard now.

[She shrugs.]

That is who I am now. I don't hide what I was, nor do I make excuses for what was done, so I will answer your questions freely.

[A pause. She meets his eyes briefly, expression serious.]

Yes. I was an officer of the Imperial Court. I was recruited as a child and I served until it was determined that I--had not shown sufficient conviction in fulfilling my duties. I suppose it's easy to see things clearly in moments like that. Not that it mattered. I was executed regardless, along with my lieutenants. Gestures must be made, Regis.

You're the Captain now? Well that's a great honor!

[There's undoubtedly a certain level of entitlement that lingers within Regis' mannerisms. He's a royal. Regis was born into a great privilege despite the burdens he faced. That's certainly why he's insufferable on some level. Regis definitely has his moments where he seems like a pompous bastard but now isn't that time.]

An officer of the Imperial Court...

[A tense sigh escapes him. He knew it. Regis just knew it.]

I cannot say this surprises me. [Regis admits as his gaze briefly meets with Maketh's. Those serene green eyes give away nothing and his demeanor is even more difficult to understand.] Although, I grieve at knowing there's yet another here in Hadriel who has died in their respective world.

[He halts the conversation momentarily as he heads into the kitchen to fetch the coffee.]

Tell me, do you prefer a hint of milk in your coffee? Cream or just plain?

It was hardly your doing.

[Maketh just watches him, eyes level and mouth thinned into a line. It's unclear what she's done to earn this level of---enthusiasm. Possibly it's a trick.]

Cream, if you would.

[She tips her head to the side.]

Your world has an Empire as well, does it?

[It could be a trick or possibly be that Regis is far too trusting for his own good sometimes. Either answer could suffice since Regis seems overjoyed a the chance to humor his "guest". The king stays quiet for a moment as he adds a hint of cream to Maketh's coffee. Just the rhythmical tinkering of the silver spoon against porcelain cuts through the silence as Regis ponders his answer.

How much should he tell? Regis frowns some. There's certainly some things about his past he wish to keep private and certain thoughts he wouldn't dare utter to a stranger. That's why it takes him a moment to find the best way to answer Maketh without revealing too much.]

The Empire of Niflheim; remnants of their ancestors of Solheim, has been the enemies of Lucis since forever. In centuries past, Lucis stood against the abomination of Niflheim once the Infernian set the pyre. We claimed our glory from the Dawn and used its Heart to banish the Darkness that claimed our world of Eos but in doing so, Niflheim's lust for power grew great.

[He turns to Maketh and offers the white mug with a smile.]

Here, as promised.

[So it's not just Regis who has power, but others as well - possibly his entire kingdom. Maketh listens carefully, hands clasped behind her back. She can't help but wonder how much of what he says is true and how much is propaganda designed to keep his subjects loyal and aimed at an enemy. She doesn't believe in extremes when it comes to good and evil. In the end there are people and their ambitions, and what those ambitions compel them to do. Occasionally those things are cruel. Rarely are they evil. So where do the Niflheim fall?

There's no way to know for sure in Hadriel. Perhaps it doesn't matter.

Maketh accepts the mug with a nod. A clever enemy would have poisoned it, or at least dosed it with something to dull her senses, make her slip up. She doesn't count Regis as an enemy just yet. Only a king - and by necessity, a king must be a clever man.

She drinks, regardless. Appearances must be maintained.]

Thank you. I've found few who appreciate good coffee here.

[She tips her head to the side, watching him.]

The Empire I served was new. Previously there was the Republic - a democracy. But it's leaders were divided and weak, and so they fell. Other worlds have kings and such. They are allowed to remain as they are so long as they swear loyalty to the Emperor. And pay him in resources and troops, of course.

[If there was posion in her coffee, surely Maketh would've felt the effects a bit later. Coffee is compromised of mostly fiber, is it not? It would hit the bloodstream within fifteen minutes or so making it a poor conductor for poison.

A regular glass of water would take less time. Hell, even wine.]

Such a shame that is but the truth. Even my own son dislikes coffee. [He says with a quiet chuckle.] Then again, Noctis dislikes anything relating to beans.

[Why is he so casual with her? It's odd. Surely he has something up his sleeves.]

So these royals were forced to kneel to your Empire?

[His tone changes ever so slightly from friendliness to slight coldness. The old king has a deep dislike for empires.]

The Niflheims would've loved to have seized Lucis as they have seized Altissia; a friendly nation that once sworn allegiance to us Lucians.

Hmm. Children have their habits.

[There is one here who Maketh thinks of as a daughter, but she doesn't say that to Regis. Perhaps later, if they become friends. Time will tell. For the moment, he's testing the waters and likely her as well. Seeing where things stand. It's only practical.

Maketh shrugs again.]

Of course. They knelt or they went to war and lost.

[She watches him a moment, unsmiling.]

Do men not bow to you in order to live, Regis?

Not the Lucians and certainly not the Lucii.

[Regis replies tersely with a hint of minuet arrogance. Who are the Lucii? The old king won't say since he's busy nursing his coffee now. He walks over towards the living room again and takes a seat upon the couch.

There's a few comfortable chairs for Maketh to pick from.]

Even with the Old Wall was breached, the Lucian Kings forged a new one comprised of magic. I was the last of my line to uphold this magical paling before meeting my end.

[Hmm. Perhaps she's hit a nerve.]

How fortunate. Perhaps your world is kinder than mine.

[She takes a chair opposite him, ever watchful.]

And what shall you do now, having died?

[Perhaps. Regis does seem slightly different now. A little less tense than earlier when she asked whether or not the Lucians would kneel to imperial rule. He's oddly calm again, almost detached from the conversation at hand.]

Kinder only in assumptions alone. [He corrects with a humorless chuckle.] There's more to Eos than I have said but I digress.

[Regis let's out a sigh once Maketh asks her question.]

I...I truly do not know.

No doubt.

[There always is. Maketh has seen many planets, many different governments toiling under the Empire's rule. None of them were precisely kind. They were necessary, though, and she understands all too well what that demands.]

An honest answer.

[She drinks her coffee for a moment.]

You have your child, at least. I expect that is....something.

Expect? [So, Maketh never bore children? She died far too young then. That comment reveals more than what Maketh intended.] Well, yes. It is.

[A faint smile crosses his lips now. It's evident that he's thinking of his son.]

For so long I've played the role of a king. To be blessed with the chance to just be a 'father' feels nothing short of a dream within this nightmare.

[His smile fades some.]

Yet, I know I cannot allow these deities to continue in their madness unchecked and unharrowed. The Gods must be brought to heel and I might be the one to do so.

My duties did not allow time for such things.

[Time could have been made, perhaps, but Maketh never saw herself becoming a good mother. She was too much of an officer. Nonetheless, she's come to care for Emily like a daughter. Perhaps that is good enough.

Maketh tips her head to the side. Her expression is entirely mercenary.]

You would not be the first to try. But you have power. Perhaps enough to make a go of it. Tell me, Regis. You know politics. I can see that. But do you know how to wage a war? Not all kings do.

[He'll bristle at the implication. Anyone would. But the answer will say a great deal. Maketh no longer swears loyalty to the Empire, but in many ways she remains an Imperial. If a thing is to be done, then it will be done well.]

[And bristles he does! Those wise green eyes become more like jade under the weight of his anger and his brows furrow deeper. The makings of a scowl lingers on his lips as he glares at Maketh.

Does he know how to wage a war? Do you know who the hell you're talking to, Maketh? Regis' lips tightens as to not let his anger spill forth.

He sets aside his coffee upon a nearby table.]

Do you know how to win one? [There's a slight bite in his reply, one likened to the mythical Nidhogg who gnawed at Yggdrasil's roots.] I know much of war and survived the darkest of days until my end drew near. I fought a losing war initiated by my ancestors over hundred years ago. I was born for war and even the name given to me had seen decades of warfare prior to my coming.

So, yes. I know how to wage a war but I want to win.

Edited 2017-02-13 01:24 (UTC)

[Part of her wants to laugh at his reaction, the way his eyes go wide and then suddenly narrow, the conviction with which he speaks. Regis is one of those honorable men, isn't he? Someone defined to the core by a code of their choosing. But this is not a moment for laughter of any sort.

Instead she smiles for him, not a kind expression, and drinks her coffee.]

I do. But it was important to see how you would react. It can be difficult to tell, sometimes. Kings are not honest. Nor are Imperial officers. But we are not what we were. Not entirely.

[Not in Hadriel.

Maketh leans back in her chair.]

We speak will bluntly now. How strong is your power?

Edited 2017-02-13 01:52 (UTC)

[Regis tenses some once Maketh asks about his powers. He almost forgotten that the woman seen a glimmer of his magic before when they first met. The king opens his right palm and almost instantly orange flames gently form around his fingers. His mastery over the elements is a skill he learned in his youth. Regis always been quite the mage despite his fantastic swordsmanship. This is where he excels most.]

Strong enough to fell beasts and foes alike. [He admits once the flames suddenly fade in placement of ice. The icy shards form a small pillar within his hand briefly before shattering like fragile glass. Next is the faint crackle of electricity that dances upon his fingertips in a familiar purple hue. ]

Though, I shall admit my powers are better suited for defense.

[Within mere seconds, Regis changes spells once more and settles for creating a mock shield around Maketh's mug. The magical barrier is translucent like water but harden to the touch like steel. The barrier won't effect the guardswoman as long as Regis wills it but he feels like being a scamp now.

So good luck trying to sip that coffee, Maketh.]

Not bad, no?

[He does his best not to smirk. Such a cheeky old thing...]

[Curious. It's not at all like the Force. Maketh lifts her mug up for a better look, examining the barrier. She gives it a tap with her nail and then nods. She had seen the Inquisitor deflect blows that should have killed him, but never create something exactly like this. It reminds her of a shield-generator, except that this is made of magic and not technology.

Maketh lowers the mug and meets his eyes.]

No. Not bad at all. My world has technology that can achieve similar means, but I have neither the equipment nor the engineering skill to make it work here.

[Hux might be convinced to aid them, if she words it properly. He's an engineer with the talent to back up hi arrogance. Much as Maketh hates him, she admits his use.]

I would, however, like to finish my coffee.

[A smug grin settles on Regis' lips as he waves his hand. The barrier suddenly shatters much like glass and fades into snow-like ash. It vanishes quickly before ever touching the surface of her mug. It seems that Regis actually managed to surprise Maketh and that makes him want to laugh. Her near child like fascination with his magic makes him smile so much.

He feels oddly proud.]

Magic and technology go hand and hand in my world but only a selected few can wield magic. As one would suspect, I'm amongst the few who can.

[His grin dims some.]

Though, this is just a mere demonstration at best.

As it is on my world as well. We call it the Force. It's abilities are genetic. Only a few can access them, and fewer still have any true skill.

[The ones that do tend to be feared. Again, she remembers the Inquisitor. She wonders what's become of him. No doubt he's dead by now. A man like that was hardly alive in the first place.]

I am not one of them, though I served with a man who had such abilities.

[Maketh sips her coffee, now free of the shield. The magic is almost poetic. She's never seen anything quite like it.]

The difficulty lies in forcing the gods to show themselves. Only Delight has done so. We have already tried destroying their temples and a previous attempt to draw them into the open was....ill-advised.

"The Force...?"

[Genetic abilities? How odd. Regis cannot fake disinterest in this mythical 'Force'. He's quite intrigued with Maketh now.]

What was this man like? The one you used to serve. Was he...a lord or an emperor?

[He's curious. Woefully curious about the world or rather the universe where Maketh hails from.]

Ah, so the Gods would expect us mortals to try again to attack them after a failed attempt.

[Maketh rubs her thumb along the edge of her mug to center herself. Still her mind. Be objective, be thorough. Finally she looks up, sadly.] We called him the Inquisitor. If he had a name, it was taken from him a long time ago. He was barely a man. Powerful, certainly. One of the strongest fighters I ever encountered and an efficient strategist. But not much of a man.

[The smile she gives Regis isn't gentle.]

He took great pleasure in executing my lieutenants.

[She has nightmares about his smile, sometimes.]

Indeed. Something more subtle is required.

✤ One. (voice;)

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