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“Transmutation of Gold…” Reinhard hummed as he played with the term Karl had thrown out. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the term: it had been coined by alchemists in the ages long past, and described a series of procedures and elements needed to turn lead into gold; however, the alternate explanation for it had been a touch more philosophical than literal, as it so happened.
“Turning ordinary into extraordinary, natural into unnatural. I see, Karl. You wish to see me completely separated from all that is human?”
“Verily,” the mercurial magician at his side grinned at the speed with which his dear friend had connected the dots. “’Tis the only way you can become close to the architect of this world – the one who created humans cannot himself be human, or so the theory of power escalation goes, no?”
“Indeed,” Reinhard nodded, lazily observing his subordinates as they milled around the reception hall in Gladsheimr, celebrating the final addition to their ranks: Machina, Gotz von Berlichingen, had taken seat seven, and with Isaak growing rapidly to take Sonnenkind’s seat which had reserved for him from the start, the end of the opening act was rapidly approaching. “With name like that, I assume we shall have to follow the principles of alchemy to make it happen? The stages of purity.”
“That is correct,” Karl sobered up slightly, yet the grin still danced at his lips as he matter-of-factly laid out the stages. “Nigredo, then Albedo, Citrinas, and finally Rubedo, with Viriditas to birth the majesty of Gold. If I may be so presumptuous to suggest, your subordinates should be fine specimens for the Transmutation.”
“Aye, they would be good supports,” Reinhard said with a soft grin on his face. “Viriditas is unnecessary to discuss, I believe.”
“That would be true,” Karl cackled – the seat of Sonnenkind had been left open for Isaak exactly because that seat was supposed to represent the rebirth. “And who would be a better Citrinas – the transforming mind – than your own flesh and blood?”
Reinhard accepted the subtle compliment with a wry smile and turned back to observing his subordinates. That left him with Albedo, Rubedo and Nigredo – the blackening of destruction, whitening of purification, and redness of success and victory. They were the ones who were to be exalted, the ones he would hold closest to himself, the ones who would make up the new him. Therefore, he had to carefully choose those who were capable of representing him properly, and also make sure they were powerful enough to endure the pressure of his being.
Spinne and Babylon were instantly discarded because of the power requirement: neither of them, while extremely useful in communications with human world, had managed to reach Beri’ah degree, and Reinhard could not have weak spots in himself. Their mindsets were simply too human, too limited by the matters of human reality, to be able to handle a Beri’ah, and handling the truth of Reinhard Heydrich required a strong Beri’ah, at minimum, to not go insane. Of course, Reinhard still cherished them as his subordinates, as his dear children and stars with most beautiful and tragic of tales, but their inability to go beyond the limits of humanity made them bad matches for the Transmutation of Gold.
Eyes skimming further, Reinhard also rejected Malleus and Bey, but not for the power reason; rather, he rejected them due to the incompatibility of their ideals with his. He had never been a fan of draining the strength of your opponent to make yourself stronger: it implied you were inherently weaker, or at least thought yourself to be weaker, than your opponent. Having either of those two represent him would definitely lead to a spontaneous rejection from him further down the line: even when taking Bey’s sheer compatibility in terms of resurrection and immortality with Gladsheimr, Reinhard was not willing to compromise and risk the rejection of one part of himself. Poor Bey and Malleus; constantly chasing after things they could not have, developed tactics that made them look craven and unbecoming in their master’s eyes. It did make them useful and powerful, but not someones Reinhard would allow to form the core of new him.
Cain faced the rejection purely on the fact he had no free will to speak of: his powers were interesting, though slightly unsightly in Reinhard’s eyes due to spreading poison everywhere he went, but his lack of mind and free will was troubling. Reinhard never believed himself to be completely without free will, even after being made aware of the ghetto he lived in, and so he could not allow any part of himself to be easily controlled by outside forces, even if the only people capable of controlling Cain were Babylon, Malleus and Karl. Plus, he had no idea how Wevelsburg Longinus would react when melded with real Longinus – an open question he was not willing to risk the entire ceremony on.
Similarly, Kristoff was rejected due to twofold reasoning: he was far too unstable in his mind because of his powers, and Reinhard believed him to be a good substitute for Citrinas, since he could resonate with Reinhard’s body, making him automatically ineligible for any other role.
That left him with the four he had to admit he always slightly favored in his mind. Of course, he loved everyone and everything equally, but those four… those four were special. Reinhard could see refractioned image of himself so clearly in them, he couldn’t help but be a little biased in observing them. Gallant Valkyria, passionate Samiel, focused Machina, maddened Schreiber; the four with clearest goals, the ones with least amount of doubt in their minds and hearts. Honestly, it felt almost unfair to toss one of them aside because of the lack of space, but Reinhard promised himself to reward all four of them later, when he reached the final stage and started emanating, as a compensation for the slight.
Rubedo title easily went to Samiel: her passion and dedication to her cause was peerless, and her fires would doubtlessly serve as the perfect signal of victory, the success they were all aiming for. Even her rune, Sowilo, could mean either sun or victory, depending on the interpretation; there was no one else who could serve as the representative of the final stage of the Transmutation in Reinhard’s mind.
“Samiel, hm?” Karl murmured, spotting his friend’s lingering gaze on the crimson-haired woman, who was currently talking with her subordinate and Machina, likely something war-related due to how intently her audience was looking at her. “There would be no finer Rubedo than her – her fires know no mercy, and her loyalty no challenge. Not to mention...”
“Indeed,” Reinhard cut off his friend – he had a terrible habit of talking too much about people behind their backs, which instantly sucked the fun out of properly meeting them and getting to know them. “Nigredo is also quite obvious, isn’t he?”
Machina, with his all-ending fists, was a textbook example of ‘destruction of all’ that would signal the start of the process of the Transmutation. You first needed to die, in a literal or figurative way, to begin changing: your old self had to die, and Machina’s powers insured that exact thing would happen. Granted, his wish upon Valhalla’s emanation was to die and never wake up again, but Reinhard was fine with it: as long as he adhered to the process, Reinhard could let him rest peacefully for all eternity, never having to experience another battle if he so wished.
That left him with a dilemma of Albedo.
“Quite,” Karl nodded. “And now, the Albedo… the purifying white. Do you have candidate in mind already?”
“Valkyria and Schreiber,” Reinhard said simply, with no hesitation.
“Valkyria?”
“You have an objection, Karl?” Reinhard turned his head to face his friend, who had an uncharacteristic frown on his face.
“It’s not an objection per se,” Karl hedged a little, sounding surprisingly reluctant to speak up, which was ridiculous. Reinhard would always hear his friend out, even if he ended up disagreeing with him and doing what suited him the best. “I would like to hear your reasoning for both of them being chosen, though, if you would not mind so.”
“Not at all,” Reinhard shook his head and looked carefully at the two he’d just named as his candidates for Albedo. Wolfgang Schreiber was sitting on the dining table Cain had carried out from a storage somewhere, a heavy thing made of full oak and richly decorated, flinging his legs thrugh air as he drank alcohol and talked casually with Malleus. Even sitting relatively still, the crazed aura around him retained its power, warning everyone who had even a modicum of sensitivity for supernatural that he was a rabid dog, ready to bite whenever his Master told him to. Beatrice von Kircheisen, on the other hand, was standing calmly, eyes darting between Machina and her superior as she also sipped at her drink, completely focused and tension etched into every muscle. The maiden of war did not lower her guard one bit despite being inside Gladsheimr, always ready to go the moment she was given permission to.
“Schreiber does not care about anything except killing – calling him a blood-crazed mutt would be a kind understatement. Valkyria is always ready to go on, to push forward – a maiden of war, even in the times of peace. Both could be considered purifying, do you not agree?”
“Aye, you would be correct in your supposition,” Karl agreed with him, his voice heavy with something Reinhard could not describe accurately. “Despite both their powers manifesting as Transcendences, they both show this interesting Hegemony trait, would you not agree?”
“That is certainly one way you could look at them,” Reinhard allowed the observation, leaning back into his seat. He could read the signs: his friend wanted to talk honestly with him, and with all his flair, so he indulged him. “Does it bother you, this unusual behavior of theirs?”
“Ah, my dear friend, if such a minor thing could affect the magic of the scope Transmutation of Gold ought to be in its fullest, I would be the worst magician in the known universe,” Karl chuckled, somewhat self-deprecating. “Though it can be said that, between Samiel and Machina, who are as pure of Hegemony and Transcendence as one can imagine, this unusual behavior could be considered a valuable equalizer. No, what worries me more about the choices are their compatibility in the terms of their end goals. As you know, I was witness to their struggles, and have heard their deepest wishes as they swore themselves to the Obsidian Round Table.”
“That is true,” Reinhard bowed his head in recognition of the fact. “I do recall, however, myself asking you never to share those struggles with me, as I wanted to discover them on my own and savor them fully once the time comes for them all to become a part of me. It would bore me needlessly, knowing everything about them, wouldn’t it?”
“In that, we are in full agreement, my dear beastly friend,” mischief danced around the edges of Karl’s lips as he leaned closer to him, lowering his voice so none of the other LDO members could overheard, even by accident. “This time, I must say that I disagree with the choice of Valkyria as Albedo, at least as the first choice.”
“Why would that be?” Reinhard asked lazily, still intently watching the two possible Albedos.
“Valkyria’s loyalties… are interesting, to say the least.”
Reinhard felt his eyebrows creep up as the suggestive sentence registered in his brain. Interesting was not a word his friend used lightly – interesting meant something that could be a trigger for unknown, something that could bring him a step closer to the destruction of the current world and its stifling law of eternal recurrence. Now that he thought about it, wouldn’t it be more logical to save Valkyria for the construction of Shambhala to heighten the chances of unknown happening, instead of wasting her immediately on the trial construction of the Ark of Covenant?
“Interesting you say… I will leave her alone for now, then,” Reinhard nodded, making his decision. “Schreiber will be the Albedo, and Valkyria the backup plan.”
Picking up the glass he’d left neglected for the duration of his discussion with Karl, he toasted to the yet unaware trio who had gotten picked as colors of Transmutation, as well as to Kristoff and Valkyria, the ones he counted on to start the chain of events that would lead to the ultimate unknown – his own dearest wish.
One of the first things that alerted Valeria Trifa to the fact the body Lord Heydrich left in his care may have been influencing him was his feelings towards the members of Longinus Dreizehn Orden, and the way he was compelled to address them as. Normally, this wasn’t too much of an issue: surprisingly enough, Valeria and the Golden Beast shared opinion on a lot of the members, at least when their role in the second coming of Gladsheimr was concerned, and quite frankly, Lady Samiel and Lords Schreiber and Machina were above him in the command chain, at least power-wise, so calling them with honorifics was a given. Of course, Valeria had the indestructible Heilige Eohl, the Holy Grail and Divine Vessel, as his Ahnenerbe, but it never truly belonged to him and him only – his true powers of telepathy and empathy were nothing to scoff at, but also weren’t quite as impressive as them, so titles it was.
All of that was well explainable, but then why was he compelled to call Bey and Valkyria the way he did?
Valeria had managed to get a decent impression of what the other man thought of the other knights during his resonation period when everyone assumed Lord Heydrich had been assassinated, and he was well aware of the fact his golden commander wasn’t fond of those who used their powers to drain others of their strengths to power themselves. Both Bey and Malleus fell into that category, and yet Valeria felt compelled to call Bey ‘Lieutenant’ instead of simply Bey, unlike Malleus who he felt no compelling to do so. He could resist it and call him only by his title, but the moment he wasn’t concentrating, ‘First Lieutenant Bey’ would slip out of his mouth and he’d bite his own tongue in the reprimand. Lord Heydrich himself almost never addressed the pale vampire-like man with his SS rank, choosing only to use his Demon Name, and Valeria felt idiotic every time it happened.
However, conundrum around Bey was nothing compared to Lady Valkyria: Valeria couldn’t even say her real name without adding Lady in front of it, the compulsion was that strong. With Bey, he could sort-of circumvent things by thinking about his real name while saying his Demon Name, but that cheat did not help in the slightest with Lady Valkyria. To make things worse, the youngest of the members of LDO – once you excluded Sonnenkind – had undergone such a drastic change between the clash with Methuselah and Battle of Berlin, it felt difficult to even escape to her real name without feeling like he was speaking about a woman that no longer existed. In his eyes, Beatrice von Kircheisen was simply an honest and naive fool who had little ambition beyond following her superior wherever she went, and being compelled to call her Lady constantly grated on him. What was the reason?
For Bey, he could guess he had done something during that fight with Methuselah that pleased their commander, and for that the man got himself elevated in the rankings despite possessing the type of power Lord Heydrich despised the most. But Valkyria? He couldn’t begin to guess where did the only other female officer in their ranks and the only other person who took their title as knights in its most literal form got it from. So, he ran a few tests: sending her far away on a mission and contacting her over the phone, leaving the slowly growing Shambhala to meet her face to face, her being in Shambhala and him being away, nothing changed or dampened the compulsion. It wasn’t like with Bey, when he only felt compelled to address with rank when he was talking with him face to face or over the phone: it was a constant problem Valeria did not know how to solve.
When the likely reason dawned on him, he wanted to plant his forehead into the hard wooden desk in his rooms. Thirty years of overthinking, and the most simple and obvious answer was staring him in the face: Lady Valkyria had been a candidate for Color of Pentachroma, like Lady Samiel and Lords Svhreiber and Machina. Of course, with only three spots open, she hadn’t stood much of a chance considering her competition, but she had still been seriously considered, and likely left as a backup plan in case Valeria tried to tamper with one of three colors.
However, this meant that any plans Valeria had in regards to breaking the ritual of Swastikas could easily be jeopardized by her. One wrong move, and she would easily be able to attack him and only be praised for it, for she was a potential Color of Pentachroma and Valeria knew how closely Lord Heydrich and Karl Krafft would monitor his every decision. Plus, he was forbidden from harming any of his brethren directly by the stigmata – he could theoretically finish them off if they betrayed the Obsidian Table, and set them for a death, but he couldn’t harm them directly. That had been a downright bothersome wrench in his plans, one he discovered when he tried to kill Lisa while she was sleeping and was punished with terrible pain and horrific bleeding.
So, he had to think up a plan that would neatly maneuver Lady Valkyria into a situation where she’d have to betray LDO no matter what… his eyes fell on the deadened eyes of Rei Sakurai, still in the same zombie-like state Bey dragged her to him and Lisa to take care of. If he recalled correctly, Lady Valkyria had a weak spot for the helpless and underdogs, those that were similar to how she was once; the next generation slated to become Tubal Cain would be a decent bait.
After all, there had to have been a reason she had been passed in favor of current Colors, and Valeria could easily bet it had been her soft heart and inability to stick to one goal. One thing he was absolutely sure of was this: the moment you came in contact with Lord Heydrich, you got frozen in that time and mindset, and Valeria had seen that mindset back in 1939, on that night that changed everything of them. He just had to treat her like that naive sixteen-year-old fresh out of military school, and all his plans would bear fruit.