The others, of course, had no idea what was going through Audrey's head. Alger moved on and recounted a recent experience of his own, which naturally led to the topic of the Aurora Order and the True Creator.
"The Aurora Order is a Blasphemous God organisation?"
Audrey forgot her mild embarrassment. She gestured animatedly. "Last week the Backlund papers were saying that the authorities had just cracked down on a terrorist organisation — and it was called the Aurora Order! Its... its backing is an actual terrifying Blasphemous God?"
Alger said, "The Aurora Order's members lose control at a rate far exceeding the normal threshold. What's left of the rest are largely lunatics. A great deal of the world's evil and destruction can be traced back to their involvement. Every orthodox Church considers them a primary target for elimination." He paused, then added, "My advice — if any of you encounters them out in the world, put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. They are extremely dangerous."
Audrey laughed. "Don't worry, Mr. Hanged Man — I spend most of my time at home. There's no chance of running into those madmen."
Vincent's lips curved slightly: Don't speak too soon, Justice.
"Regarding what Miss Justice just mentioned — I've also heard something about it. From what I understand, the Aurora Order branch that was cracked down on had its leader identified as a dangerous individual known as 'Mr. A'."
"???"
Audrey's head rang like a bell. "Wh — what?!"
Mr. A?
Wasn't that the organiser of the Beyonder gathering she had attended? He was the Aurora Order's leader? A servant of a Blasphemous God? And that evening she hadn't only been within three or four metres of him — she had bluntly refused his "generous offer"?
Good heavens, Audrey — you very nearly shook hands with death itself!
Alger noticed Audrey's reaction and asked, "Miss Justice — you've heard of this Mr. A?"
"I..." She forced out a thin smile. "I attended one of the Beyonder gatherings he organised. The pages of Roselle's diary I presented to Mr. Fool were acquired there."
Alger thought: And they call Beyonder newbies reckless — and here's proof.
But he still offered some reassurance: "Generally speaking, even the Aurora Order wouldn't casually lay hands on attendees at their own gathering — they still need to profit from it to fund their operations. Besides, Mr. Lover just said he's already been apprehended by the authorities, hasn't he?"
Audrey let out a relieved breath. "Right, that's true."
"Though I should mention," Vincent added mildly, "Mr. A appears to still be at large."
Audrey: "..."
"I've also heard that when the Aurora Order recruits new members, they pay particular attention to appearance — they have a marked preference for, or in some cases simply take, men and women of exceptional looks, and bring them into the fold to worship the Depraved Creator."
Audrey: "..."
Was that the real reason Mr. A slipped me that card that night? So I was personally targeted by the leader of a Blasphemous God cult?
No thank you!
Klein observed Miss Justice suffering blow after blow — her mental body, astral body, and ether body all registering signs of disturbance — and felt the urge to say something reassuring. But the moment he considered that she might turn around and ask him for help, he thought better of it. My hands are rather tied right now.
So he maintained his mask of serene composure and said nothing.
Vincent at last showed his hand. "Miss Justice — would you like me to recommend some reliable Beyonders to serve as your personal guards?"
Audrey was just about to agree when a serious problem struck her: that would mean exposing her real-world identity. That wasn't something she could afford.
On the other hand, if the still-fugitive Mr. A really had set his sights on her, that could bring danger down on herself — and on her family.
Alger, reading her hesitation, offered: "Miss Justice, perhaps you could also seek help from an official institution or a Church."
Vincent's frown was barely perceptible. Must you always intervene, Hanged Man?
"Oh, that's right!"
Audrey's eyes lit up. Her father had always maintained a close relationship with the Church of the Goddess of Night — donating generously to it every year. Surely the Church wouldn't turn a blind eye?
But if she went to them... her attendance at Beyonder gatherings would come to light.
Watching Justice spiral back into indecision, Alger lost interest in the matter. Do what you like.
After a moment, Audrey collected herself, glanced between Vincent and Alger, and spoke: "Two gentlemen — in order to avoid any future... accidental contact with dangerous organisations, could either of you give me a thorough account of the major secret societies and hidden cults out there? I'll pay for the information."
Vincent had a general knowledge of most of the organisations in the Lord of the Mysteries world — but only general. If asked to give a proper account with details and specifics, he wouldn't manage it. So this opportunity for income, he handed off to Alger.
Alger glanced at the Fool, weighed things for a moment, and began slowly:
"Let's start with the Moses Ascetic Order — it is the oldest of the hidden organisations..."
What followed was Mr. Hanged Man's short course in secret societies. He covered, in turn, the Moses Ascetic Order, the Witch Sect, the Psychology Alchemists, the Spiritual Mediums Guild, the Sparrow School, and others — some outright Blasphemous God organisations, others merely hidden factions that kept their activities concealed.
Audrey furrowed her brow and committed each piece of information to memory.
Vincent cast a glance at the Fool, who appeared to be deep in thought, then hesitated for a moment before speaking up: "I just recalled something about the Moses Ascetic Order — and the Blasphemous God behind them."
Mr. Fool, consider this a small token of good faith, in light of the wool I'm about to shear from you in future. Whether you make the connection is entirely up to you.
Sensing that all eyes had turned to him, he said carefully: "There is a rumour — that if anyone attempts to perform a sacrificial ritual to that Blasphemous God, or draws Its attention for any other reason, a pair of eyes will appear in the space around that person. Eyes with no eyelashes, cold and empty, nearly transparent."
"Under normal circumstances those eyes are invisible, of course — they can only be seen when one opens one's spiritual sight."
Audrey gave a visible shudder. "Those eyes... could they be the eyes of the Hidden Sage? That's absolutely horrifying."
"Strictly speaking, they're more of a symbolic representation of the Hidden Sage's gaze. 'It' doesn't have so many literal eyes to spare on so many people at once."
Alger raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Lover, where did you come by this information?"
"For certain reasons I have some history with the Moses Ascetic Order — adversarial history, I should say — so naturally I know a fair amount about them."
Adversarial history with the Moses Ascetic Order?
Alger was mildly surprised. Was Mr. Lover a member of the Element Dawn, then?
At that moment, Klein had gone completely still.
He had just remembered — he had once seen exactly the kind of eyes the Lover described. It was the very first time old Neil had taught him to open his spiritual sight. He had blurted it out to Neil on the spot, and Neil had told him not to worry about it, explaining that it was simply a manifestation of a certain ritual magic.
But now the truth of it was that those were a symbol of a Blasphemous God's gaze?
If that was so — did it mean Neil had very likely been performing a sacrificial ritual to the Hidden Sage, or had been noticed by It for some other reason?
This cannot wait.
I have to report this to the Captain immediately.
With that thought, Klein said at once, "That will conclude today's meeting."
"As you will."
Cutting his connection to the three members, Klein descended from above the grey fog in a rush and dashed out of his flat, hailing a passing horse-drawn cab and heading straight for the precinct — no time to worry about the fare.
"Faster, please!"
Inside the rattling cab, Klein's mind ran at full speed, thinking through how to explain things to the Captain: first, how dangerous were the eyeless eyes floating behind old Neil — and second, just how he had come by this information.
There was undeniable risk in this. But Neil's safety was at stake, and that outweighed everything else.
Just then, a faint murmuring reached his ears. Klein started, then understood — someone above the grey fog was offering a prayer.
I'll see to it after I've spoken with the Captain.
· ·
On the other side of the city — Backlund.
Vincent opened his eyes, replaying the meeting in his mind, then tapped his chin thoughtfully: Which candidates would be the right fit to recommend to Klein for the Tarot Club?
Beyond the original members from the novel, were there any other reliable options?
Hmm.
Vincent sat up straight all at once. Something he had been overlooking all along had just jumped to the surface: before advancing to the demigod tier, Klein couldn't simply recruit anyone he liked, in any number he liked.
It depended entirely on his spirituality level.
And right now Klein was very likely only Sequence 8 — possibly still Sequence 9. In that case, three members might already be his hard limit... but then what was Bernadette's situation?
She was a genuine Sequence 3 Saint.
Even if Klein strained every last drop of his power, there was no possible way he could draw a Saint up into the space above the grey fog. And yet she had unmistakably been present at last week's meeting.
How had that worked?
Or am I misremembering?
Vincent wrinkled his brow and turned it over at length without finding an answer. And the worst part was, he had no way of raising this with either of the two people who could actually answer it — it might have to stay buried for a very long time.
"Forget it. No point getting tangled up in things I can't resolve right now. The Broker potion has been fully digested, so the top priority for the next three days is getting the Scale to balance again — and then advancing to Sequence 8."
Hopefully Sequence 8 won't be another blank slate. Something actually useful would be nice.
"Oh — has Bernadette left any new messages for me in the Kingdom of Disorder's room?"
The thought had barely formed before he was standing in the sitting room of the mysterious room. He strode to the table near the door — and was disappointed to find nothing there.
Such a nuisance, not being able to conjure paper and ink here. Come to think of it, the Kingdom of Disorder really is lacking in features — besides giving me a new pathway, it hasn't offered much else, has it?
He had been delighted earlier that the "mysterious room" was far easier to enter and exit than the space above the grey fog — but that satisfaction had evaporated rather quickly.
"Actually... I wonder if I could follow Klein's example and bring real-world objects in here through a sacrifice? That way at least communication would be easier."
Vincent tried to recall how Klein brought things into the space above the grey fog in the novel... Something about praying to oneself and offering a sacrifice to oneself?
But the prerequisite for prayer and sacrifice was a three-part True Name, wasn't it? Perhaps he ought to try composing one for himself.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Just then, a hollow, echoing knock sounded in the empty space — Vincent looked instinctively toward the wooden door, then realised the sound was coming from outside, in the real world. He shook his head, set the idea of a True Name aside for the moment, and returned to reality.
"Come in."
Vivian pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Your Majesty, one hour ago we successfully apprehended the small woman who had been collecting the Emperor's diary pages... however, on the way back, a figure who appeared to be a 'Traveller' arrived without warning and rescued her. This time, though, I had made advance preparations — I was able to track them to their hiding place and identify her."
"The issue is that as long as the Traveller remains with her, they could flee at any moment. So..."
Does she mean she needs me to personally step in?
But I have no way of detaining a Traveller either.
Vincent calmly picked up the glass of champagne from the table. "Tell me about the small woman first." A small woman, a Traveller... somehow this combination feels familiar.
"Her name is Xio Derecha. She mainly earns a living by taking on commissions and acting as an Arbiter."
"..."
Vincent went quiet.
Right. So it really is Xio and Fors.
What a coincidence — running into that 152-centimetre woman again and again.
Wait — Xio is on the Justiciar Pathway... could this be the principle of like-attracts-like at work among Beyonder characteristics?
"Leave this matter alone for now. I have my own plans for it."
"As you command."
Vivian turned and left the room. At that moment a server came hurrying over and said quietly, "Ma'am, a message has been passed along from Kaspar Kallikinen at the Brave Man's Bar — someone is looking for Madam Natasha."
"Understood."
"The person looking for her... is the same small woman who escaped earlier. Xio Derecha."
"???"
Vivian hesitated, then turned back and knocked on the door again, her expression difficult to read:
"Your Majesty — that Xio Derecha... appears to have walked straight into the lion's den."
· ·
Half an hour earlier.
In a safe house in the Jowood District, the two of them sat in silence, staring at each other.
Xio raked both hands through her already-dishevelled hair, simmering with frustration: I only just got out of prison a couple of days ago, and I nearly got dragged off by some mystery crew. My luck has been absolutely rotten lately.
Damn it all — if I ever find out who's been tracking and hunting me down every time I turn around —
I'll definitely — I'll definitely —
Fors shifted over and said with grave solemnity: "Xio. I need you to vouch for me."
"What?"
"I missed my deadline completely through no fault of my own. You have to tell my editor."
Xio stared at her. "What good is my vouching for you? Your editor still has to believe me."
"Then help me persuade him."
"..."
Xio knew perfectly well that Fors was using this to drain off some of the tension. She pressed her face to one side anyway, then sidled over to the window, tugged the curtain open a narrow crack, and peered carefully at the street outside.
She still had a nagging feeling the danger hadn't fully passed. Part of her was weighing it up: maybe it's better to just leave Backlund for a while.
As for her father's affairs... perhaps she could wait until she had the strength to come back and investigate. Or perhaps —
Find someone else to help.
Without quite knowing why, the image of "Madam Natasha" drifted through Xio's mind. By her own account, the woman had an extensive network of intelligence and connections — surely she would be far more reliable at digging out the truth than Xio blundering about on her own.
But Natasha had called herself a "Broker" — she wouldn't directly resolve problems. She'd route things through an intermediary, which introduced more variables.
And above all, the truth was that Xio and her were barely acquainted. Who knew whether all that self-promotion was genuine? ...What was definitely genuine was that she'd managed to talk Xio out of her carefully saved money. The nerve.
Xio's teeth itched.
"Is someone coming?" Fors noticed the shift in Xio's expression and went tense immediately. The beads on her bracelet were running low — she couldn't afford to burn through many more.
"No. Just thought of an annoying person."
Xio rubbed her unruly hair in irritation. "The most galling thing right now is that we still don't know who is hunting us or why."
"Could it be the thug you broke the legs of? Maybe he hired someone?"
"You're forgetting — we were already being tailed before that happened." Xio yanked out the triangular stiletto from her back holster and drove it into the tabletop. "I went back over every commission I've taken, every arbitration I've handled in the last six months. Not one of them fits."
She paused, then shot a suspicious look at Fors.
Fors blinked. "Me? I just lie at home writing novels all day. Who on earth could I have possibly offended?"
"...You miss deadlines constantly and leave readers hanging. For all we know, one of your fans finally snapped."
"???"
How could missing a deadline be such a capital offence?
The two of them fell into silence. Then Xio said slowly, "Maybe... we should find someone to look into exactly who is hunting us."
"But haven't you already asked your contacts and informants?"
"They're all ordinary people," Xio said, shaking her head. "When it comes to Beyonder business, their reach is limited."
Fors frowned. "Then who else can you go to?"
"That Madam Natasha. Didn't she claim to have a vast intelligence network? A matter like this shouldn't be beyond her."
"But isn't she a 'Broker'? She said she only connects people to solutions — she doesn't fix things directly." Fors muttered, "Bizarre, if you ask me."
"Emperor Roselle once said," Xio declared, slapping the table decisively, "it doesn't matter if a cat is black or white — as long as it catches mice, it's a good cat."
"Let's go. To the Brave Man's Bar."
· ·
Brave Man's Bar, Bridge District, Backlund.
When Vincent arrived, the lively centrepiece was still, as always, the rat-catching arena. He glanced at it briefly and walked straight toward the reserved private room, knocking lightly.
From inside came Xio's sharp, guarded voice: "Who's there?"
"The Broker."
The door was pulled open carefully a moment later. Xio had, for once, traded in her usual knight's training gear for a worn labourer's jacket — at first glance she looked like a child who'd snuck into an adult's wardrobe.
Vincent stepped inside with a smile. "Good afternoon, you two."
His gaze lingered briefly on Xio. "Haven't seen you in a few days, Miss Xio — you seem to have grown a little taller."
Xio's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Of course."
Vincent settled into the sofa naturally, continuing: "Though — if Miss Xio wants to grow even taller, I do happen to know a method."
He extended five fingers. Fors immediately cleared her throat loudly: ahem.
Xio smoothed her expression at once, resuming the dignity of an Arbiter: "Madam Natasha, I'm sorry for the abrupt visit. There's something I'd like to commission you for."
Vincent sat down. "Go ahead."
"It's like this..."
Xio recounted the whole sequence of events, then concluded: "So my commission is — find out who those people trying to capture me are, and why."
Ah, the classic Lord of the Mysteries situation: investigating yourself.
"No problem at all."
Vincent said, "How much are you prepared to offer, Miss Xio?"
Xio shot back, "How much are you asking?"
"Come now, Miss Xio — that's no way to do business. Since you came to me, shouldn't you arrive with a figure in mind? If you leave it to me to name my price, I'll just quote whatever I please."
Fors cut in: "May I ask — will Madam Natasha be engaging someone else to complete this investigation?"
"Not necessarily."
The Broker potion has been fully digested, so while facilitating transactions and cooperation still helps tip the Scale, it's no longer strictly required. He explained, "If you're paying in coin, I'll introduce you to someone reliable." Vivian, obviously.
"If you'd prefer an alternative arrangement, I'll handle the investigation myself."
Xio's guard went up at once. The woman had mentioned something similar last time — not taking payment. She asked warily, "What kind of alternative arrangement?"
If she weren't a woman, I'd assume the worst and arbitrate her on the spot.
Actually —
Who says a woman can't —
"Relax, Miss Xio."
Vincent pressed a calming hand in the air. "It's quite simple. I'd like Miss Xio to join my team — for a fixed period of time, let's say three months, during which you'd help me as needed."
"What?"
That was not what she had expected. Xio's brow furrowed. "But I'm only a low-Sequence Beyonder at Sequence 9. What use could I possibly be to you? And if your intelligence network is as extensive as you say, you can't be short of people."
I am absolutely short of people.
What intelligence network? I made all of that up. The only person I can actually rely on is Vivian — and the crew of the Dawn at a stretch, but I can hardly call on them for every little thing.
But that wasn't the main point. More important was this: embedded in the information around the Broker pathway's Sequence abilities was a recurring implication — that being a Broker wasn't just about playing the role of middleman. The deeper work was building one's own web of connections.
As the web expanded, the scale of transactions and cooperation it could facilitate would grow in proportion. The area it could cover would widen. And eventually, as the core of that web, one wouldn't even need to act personally — the other nodes would handle everything on their own.
The reason he had his eye on Xio and Fors was simple enough: their future growth was something he could predict. And trailing behind each of them was a thread that would, in time, unspool into two entirely separate networks — MI9 on one end, and the Abraham Family on the other.
Seeing the question in Xio's eyes, Vincent explained: "The reason I have the intelligence I do is precisely because I've built it up the same way — one person at a time. A person like me can never have too many connections. And Miss Xio herself comes with no small network of her own."
"And if I join your team — what exactly would I be doing?"
"You'd continue living exactly as you do now — taking commissions, handling arbitrations. The only difference is that when I need you, you'd set aside whatever you're doing and come to me. And I wouldn't have you work for free — I'd only take a reasonable cut."
Xio's brow stayed furrowed. From a purely practical standpoint, if everything Madam Natasha was saying was true, it didn't sound like a terrible deal.
But was it true?
After a long moment of deliberation, Xio pressed her lips together. "Could I meet the rest of the team first?"
"Oh, you already have."
"???"
Vincent pointed at her, then at himself. "At present — it's just the two of us."
To be continued…