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The nightmare was over, at least for the time being, right after another nightmare of vastly different circumstances had ended.
Trent Ikithon, the man that destroyed the lives of so many children of the Empire, was finally brought down and subdued in no small part thanks to the Mighty Nein. And measures had been taken to ensure that he would stand trial, thanks to the cooperation of two of his right-hand people.
The only task left to do now, though, was to make it work.
Compared to Cognouza and the Somnovem, dealing with Ikithon and his impending downfall was more sobering, with uncomparable stakes. At least the incident with Lucien was more personal, and very few outside of the Nein would know of that hardship, unaware that it was indirectly tied to Ikithon if only out of necessity for preparation.
The days pass by within the central house of the Clay family in the Blooming Grove as Beauregard Lionett listens to the testimony of Astrid Beck and Eadwulf Grieve, every single painful detail committed to paper as the expositor dictates their accounts word for word, notebook after notebook filled from front to back.
The level of trauma and depravity that she is hearing from these two broken people, who were just kids when Ikithon first did his “work” on them, is at times hard to stomach. But they still give detail upon detail, omitting nothing that can be extremely damning to the archmage.
Beau is finishing up with another notebook and is ready to take a break for the day, telling the mages that they can continue tomorrow if they want to. The two of them nod and are talking amongst each other as Beau puts away her notebooks.
One thing that Beau had noticed during her dictation, though, is that their accounts were only revolving around Ikithon, if only because he’s at their mercy. Nothing directly linked to the rest of the Assembly.
And it makes sense to her. Why draw the ire of those who are nothing but a threat, should they call the eye upon them?
Just the mere thought of “eyes” sends a shudder through her body so strong she drops one of her spare notebooks on the floor with a thwap!
“Is everything alright, Expositor?” She hears Eadwulf say as he and Astrid stand at the threshold to the front door. “Something bothering you?”
“No, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess,” Beau replies with a shake of her head as she picks up the book and stuffs it into her bag. “Been a long few days for all of us.”
“Quite,” Astrid remarks. “Until tomorrow then, Miss Lionett.”
“Astrid. Eadwulf.” Beau gives them a nod and the two wizards head outside.
Once they are out of sight, Beau lets out a very deep breath, her shoulders trembling as she cradles her left hand where a red eye once was. After all, it wasn’t long ago that she and Caleb, and then the rest of the Nein, were dealing with their own collective trauma having faced Lucien in the Astral Sea. He had once been their friend, in another life, and quite literally almost destroyed them and assimilated them into his own grand plans, one unwanted red eye at a time. And when all was said and done, even though the body came back to life, the soul was restored into someone new, someone not quite Lucien nor Mollymauk.
But she feels that over time, Kingsley would be able to live his life as himself. Just as she and Yasha had discussed, they would let him be whoever he wanted to be.
Right now, though, all she can dwell on are the phantom screams and noises from her nightmares. She knew that Yasha still had her own regarding that battle in the Chantry, so it’s only fair that Beau continues to be plagued by eyes no longer gazing through her and into her soul.
And ever since that first red eye had emerged, they weren’t the only nightmares. She had even dreamt of home, of that fateful night where her father slapped her across the face. The phantom pain still lingers, as does the sight of her mother in tears. But to this day, Beau is uncertain as to whether she was crying for her daughter, or crying because she felt like a failure.
At times, those same dreams got even worse as the eyes of the Somnovem somehow even bled into her past, such as her father’s eyes turning a deep crimson, or the monks morphing into those flesh monsters within Cognouza.
One of the absolute worst nightmares had nothing to do with home, but Kamordah as a whole. The entirety of the town twisted and grotesque, as if Lucien had been successful and assimilated Exandria into Cognouza. And every single townsfolk or grape vine would be marked with red eyes.
She feels a sharp pang in her chest. She looks down at that familiar scar, now finally fading a bit after receiving it months ago. Right next to it, there was once another red eye. She had been so close to ending up with nine, and gods know what would’ve happened had she gotten that many. For all she knew, she’d have ended up a puppet of Cognouza, forced to attack and kill her family.
And she knows that Caleb and Essek felt the same. They each had almost just as many as she did by the time the battle ended. Hell, she saw Caleb, her Empire-born counterpart who was like a brother to her, die just before the smoke cleared. And she had definitely noticed Essek looking distraught. She would’ve felt the same if that was Yasha who ended up a corpse instead. If things were different, she probably would’ve submitted to having all nine eyes just to spare them.
The pangs of pain intensify, as if her own heart is threatening to jump out of her chest. Great. Even more deep-seated trauma to cope with. As if the upcoming trial of Adon Zeenoth wasn’t bad enough. There was a chance that she would see her father there. And she had no idea how to process being in the same chamber as him once again.
Would her mother be there too? Or TJ? Would them being there even matter at this point? Wouldn’t they be fine, even after all this? Would her father even be justly punished? Would her mother be subject to the same fate, regardless of how much or how little she may or may not have been complicit? Would TJ be okay after all this?
She has no answer to these questions, and it frustrates her. She’s supposed to know shit. And if not that, then to find shit and expose it, for that is what an expositor is meant to do.
Maybe she’s no good, after all, if she can resolve the centuries of tragedy of Cognouza, only to completely fall apart due to fucking daddy issues and betrayal after having learned to trust the archivist that seemingly grew to see her as an equal.
She even fucking apologized to him. In front of the Nein. And he stood there, no doubt smug as fuck inside as he was showered with validation from someone he was bribed to kidnap and tutor without her consent. As if his methods and those of her father were justified!
“Fuck.”
Beau realizes that she hadn’t spoken out loud much since she wrapped up her chronicling for the day. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing, in and out, over and over. She keeps at it for a minute or two before focusing on the sounds and scents and sights within the otherwise empty living space.
Five things she can see: her satchel, Clarabelle’s straw hat hanging on the wall, a tea kettle left over the kiln by Constance, a writing quill, an ink bottle.
Four things she can touch: the table she’s sitting at, the quill still in her hand, the strap of her satchel, the sash around her waist.
Three things she can hear: the tea kettle whistling, the hushed sounds of conversation from somewhere outside, the crackling of the fire.
Two things she can smell: the lingering aroma of her empty teacup, the musty air.
One thing she can taste: the tea now gone from the aforementioned cup.
Going through the process, Beau manages to calm her racing thoughts and come back to herself.
Maybe I just need to get some sleep. I don’t know if I should, though. Fucking nightmares.
She stands up and groans as she stretches and cracks her back. Today was a lot to deal with already, mostly due to the wizards’ testimonies. She just wants to go to bed and cuddle with Yasha. And as much as she wants to make love with her and be so loud it would wake the dead, this was still a temple in the broadest sense. And a graveyard full of literal dead people, who would all eventually become tea. And home to a friend’s family who also partake in said dead people tea.
So just this once, Beau resists her carnal urges and settles just for shnugging.
She grabs her satchel and steps out of the room toward the sleeping chambers at the back of the house. The Clays and Brenattos were sharing a room each, and Beau couldn't help but be happy yet sad at the same time. This could very well be the last time the Mighty Nein would be whole for a long time, as Veth and Caduceus have families to go home to. Kingsley was sprawled out on a sleeping bag in the room occupied by Fjord and Jester. She had spotted Essek trancing in the garden, basking in the moonlight of Catha. She hadn’t had a chance to speak with him much since they recruited him to delve into Aeor proper, but she can safely say that the hot boi has long since earned his way back to her good graces. And if there was anyone she can trust to watch Caleb’s back in her absence, it’s the former Shadowhand.
Funny that Eiselcross was a frozen deathtrap, yet it was how most of their group ended up finding love. Fjord and Jester, herself and Yasha, and she’s quite certain the same held true for Caleb and Essek. She can just tell.
Oh. Speak of the devil.
She’s just about at the room she had been sharing with Yasha when she spots Caleb in the dark and musty hallway, illuminated only by the moonlight and bioluminescent flora near one of the plots. The wizard is clutching an empty teacup and staring out into space, or to be more accurate to the stars and moons outside the window.
Caleb had been the first of the Volstrucker to give his testimony, to give Astrid and Eadwulf time to consider their options and choice of words. And Beau already had a good enough read on him due to what he had shared before.
Or so she thought.
There were details he gave that he hadn’t even told the Nein up to this point, or even to her in private. And it was only in private that he gave the unfiltered, unrestrained account of the hell he went through under the soon-to-be former Archmage of Civil Influence.
In between the discussions of “grooming” and utilizing their “charm” to accomplish their goals by any means necessary, and then a painstakingly detailed description of the residuum implantation process, Beau almost wanted to throw up. But it was when he got to the story of how he murdered his family “for the good of the Empire”, all to prove his “loyalty” and such, that things began to truly fall into place in his deposition. It was brainwashing and deception, pure and simple. And if it didn’t stop at the three of them, one would correctly assume that every Volstrucker underwent the same process, with Ikithon using his resources to obfuscate the truth and keep himself out of reach of the law. And if so, then hopefully by exposing every single one of his crimes, the Volstrucker program as a whole could be dismantled.
All to prevent more children from being put on the pyre “for the greater good”.
“He’ll come after me for this,” Caleb had said during the interview, undoubtedly referring to the Martinet. And Beau couldn’t lie and suggest that everything would be okay. After all, Ikithon at best would just be the sacrificial lamb, whereas Ludinus Da’leth would continue to plot whatever designs would suit him. This was anything but a one-and-done deal.
“It takes time,” as Caleb had once said to Essek back in Eiselcross. And he was right then, just as he’d be right now. The entire situation was the equivalent of walking on sharpened glass and white-hot burning coals, with rust-encrusted nails thrown in for good measure.
In other words, a proverbial minefield if they didn’t approach this with the delicate caution it deserved.
Beau can see Caleb rubbing his scarred forearm holding the teacup absentmindedly, but not quite at the point of scratching just yet. That’s progress, at least.
“Finished for the day?” Caleb asked without even looking in her direction.
Beau fidgets a bit with her unbound hair before sighing and approaching him. “Yeah. Figured they could use another break. Their stories are just as horrifying as yours, only they’ve had more years to be exposed to it.”
“Ja.” His response is given with a voice tight with emotion and eyes cast out the window, where the figures of Astrid and Eadwulf could barely be distinguished against the blue of the moonlit grass. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?” Beau inquires.
“For convincing Astrid to stand down. You were right.” Caleb turns his gaze to meet Beau’s. “He would’ve just become a martyr, the hero of her story and Wulf’s. I don’t think we would’ve gained their cooperation otherwise.”
Caleb places the teacup onto the worn wood windowsill, splintering with age, and continues to stare out into the inky night sky as Beau joins him in stargazing. Even now, the sky reminds them of the Astral Sea… and what they both narrowly avoided.
“Would you have done it?” Beau says while staring upward. “Choose to kill Trent if you could?”
“Nein, I wouldn’t,” Caleb replies with a conviction she hadn’t heard in quite a while. “I would’ve given him what he wanted if I had.”
“Yeah, that’s fucked up.” Beau sighs. The sooner they can get rid of Trent, the better. “I can’t wait to put him behind bars.”
“As for the rest, we’re going to have to push for that on our own.” What goes unsaid in Caleb’s statement, of course, is the established fact that only Trent is targeted in their collective accounts.
And it is only fair. The Volstrucker are only trying to keep themselves safe by focusing their story entirely on Trent. And Beau can’t help but agree that it’s for the best; dismantling the entirety of the Cerberus Assembly would take time.
But at least it would be the important first step in doing so.
“Yeah, and aside from that,” Beau mutters to Caleb, “Does it matter? They don't have to tell us—”
“—what we already know.” They finished in unison, not unlike how the Tomb Takers did so. Just thinking of them makes Beau shudder a little again, though she tries to hide it.
“The Martinet intimated quite a bit.”
“Yeah. A hundred percent.”
The two Empire humans continue to stare out into the sky, the light of Catha bright and shining. Beau turns away from the window, placing her left hand on Caleb’s right shoulder and looking him in the eye.
“This— This will save lives. I hope you know that.”
Caleb doesn’t respond, but Beau can still see doubt in his eyes. As if he’s uncertain that they will manage to pull this off, even with everything they’re preparing.
Beau pushes on, regardless. “It's hard to calculate how far this action could ripple into the future.” She then takes Caleb’s left hand, the one that bore an eye in its palm, and clasps it with her own. “But if we learned anything from the Somnovem, if these people in power aren't kept in check, they're hidden behind veils, it will happen again and again.”
“You really believe so?” Caleb asks her. It’s clear that he still wants to have hope, despite his doubts.
“Yeah. I do. Because we have no other choice.”
He nods at that. Beau is about ready to leave him be and retire for the night before he asks her something out of the blue.
“Do you think… Mutter and Vater would forgive me for everything I had done?”
Beau pauses and thinks on her answer. She is not even sure if she could even forgive her own at all. Definitely not her father. Her mother… is an even more complicated issue. For all of her complacency in just going along with Thoreau’s bullshit, deep down Beau knows that her mother still cares about her.
But is she ready to forgive, especially if it happens to be true that her mother knew all along the truth? Or maybe she never did.
“Are you thinking about your parents as well?” His voice brings her out of her reverie.
“Y-Yeah, with Zeenoth’s trial coming up and all. I just… My dad is an asshole, there’s no denying that. But…” Beau puts a hand through her hair and exhales sharply. “I don’t know what to do about my mom. Maybe it’s too late, even if my dad does get punished, to patch things up with her, assuming that we even can get past all that bullshit.”
“True,” is all that Caleb says to that.
“And there’s TJ to consider, too,” Beau continues. “What’s going to happen to him, with or without his parents? Would Mom be able to care for him if Dad ends up in the slammer? And… would he still want me there, to be a part of his life?”
Caleb pauses for a moment. “I think perhaps that it’s too soon to tell, Beauregard. But… while we’re still on the subject of family…”
He then reaches for the book holstered under his arm and gently pulls it out. “You’ve always wanted to know what’s in this book, ja?”
Beau nods.
“I’ve… I’ve been writing things. Things about our journeys together, about life after the sanatorium. I…” He pauses for a bit before gently caressing the cover of the book. “I’ve been writing letters. To them. No one else knows… but I figure you deserve to know.”
Beau just gazes at the worn leather notebook, no doubt stuffed to the spine with countless letters written by Caleb’s own hand, even back when he still went by the name Bren. She doesn’t ask to read them; there’d be no point as they would undoubtedly be penned in Zemnian. And she’s not sure if she wants to be privy to his most private of secrets any more than she already is.
“I… I still don’t know if I’m ready to forgive her, should it come to that. But…”
Caleb interrupts her with a hand to the shoulder and a gentle yet firm grip. “You never know until you try, Beauregard. At least… your mother deserves it, provided she makes the effort that your father never tried to make. At the very least, when you’re ready, you can take the first step.”
Beau just nods at that. “Well… in that case… maybe your family can forgive you.”
Caleb chuckles softly. “Thank you, Beauregard.” He smiles as he looks into her eyes with a gentle warmth to them. “You know, all my mother and father wanted me to do when I was a child was serve the Empire.”
She nods, and then pulls him into a hug which he accepts and returns in kind. “I think they'd be really proud of you.”
Caleb hums his acceptance. “We will serve the Empire. No more children on the pyre after today.”
“Yeah.”
The two Empire kids break apart and take a moment longer before Beau exhales. “You go get some sleep.”
Caleb nods. He then takes his hand and clasps it over hers, like she had done before. “We’re still here, we’re still ourselves. Because we have each other, and the Nein. We’re not alone anymore. Even once we go our separate ways.”
Beau pauses before responding. “Yeah. Thank you, Caleb. For everything, both with your story and… well, just being here.”
The wizard smiles, leaning forward to give a chaste kiss to her forehead. “You’re welcome, mein schwester. See you in the morning.”
Beau smiles as they finally let go of each other’s hands and she heads to the room where Yasha’s waiting for her. Caleb was right. This is just the beginning. The first step in undoing decades of injustice. And not just with the Assembly.
At the very least, when you’re ready, you can take the first step.
She’s unsure when she’ll be prepared to do so, but someday she will.