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There are numerous things that Veritas Ratio hates. Idiots, for one; having to go days without a nice bath, and particularly the galas that the Intelligencia Guild forces him to attend. Their reasonings are all supremely illogical (one council member even said he was the “most good looking candidate” for the job), and simplify to merely not wanting to go themselves. It is also truly astounding just how many galas the Guild is invited to.
The current gala Veritas is in attendance of is for an occasion he, frankly, can’t remember. What he can currently notice is only how loud and bright the room is, how many people are swarming around, how itchy the tag on his new dress shirt is, and how none of the food and drink are familiar enough for him to attempt eating them. How desperately he wanted to don his bust, but it was forbidden at these events to “save appearances.” Not that Veritas was particularly well known for following rules, but the threat of pulling some of his research funding over a sleight of this particular rule is very real.
A few deep breaths and a scan of the room lead his mind to a door in the corner of the hall that is open to the outside. A balcony, most likely. Either it was opened on accident (unlikely), left open to let in a draft (also unlikely), or someone was already on the balcony. Veritas ultimately decided that, even if the balcony was occupied, the benefits of less noise and fresh air would outweigh the issue of needing to address another person.
He took long, quick strides, trying not to allow even a moment for someone to try and spark conversation with him as he moved towards the door. It garnered a few odd looks, but that was of little consequence. He was dead set on the new objective and the promise of at least a bit of comfort.
He reached the door quickly, and stood in the doorframe for a moment to assess the exterior situation. The balcony was occupied, as it turned out. Occupied by a very familiar looking face: the face of a particular well-known celebrity in a shimmering, colorful and elegant suit.
“May I join you on this balcony?” He asked with as much politeness as he could muster in the moment of stress. The other man perked up with surprise before turning around to face the newcomer.
“My, did you come for an autograph? Or just for company? I can deliver on both, come over!” The man’s face lit up in a smile, most likely a fake one, as he ushered in Veritas. The light spilling from the hall caught his three toned eyes in an unnatural way, almost as if they were glowing from within. Veritas stepped outside onto the balcony and fixed the other man with what he hoped was a stern look. It was hard to tell in his current state of moderate overwhelm.
“Carus, the intergalactic pop star and actor rumored to have a devastating past, and,” Veritas made his best effort to initiate eye contact, “a Masked Fool.” The other man, Carus, acted surprised by his statement.
“Wow, you scholars have quite the network! That information isn’t public.” Carus’ second statement was accompanied by a far less amicable look than what he had previously been wearing.
“And why would that be? This gala is intended to celebrate friendship betwixt factions, are you not representing the Tavern?” The fresh air had allowed Veritas to remember what he was here for in the first place. He once again had to resist the temptation of his bust and its cool comfort - the man across from him was irrationally unsettling.
“You don’t seem to understand the market of people too well. Would the general public be particularly favorable to the Fools? I was privately invited to this gala as a performer, I’ll have you know.” Carus spoke with blatant disinterest. As much as being left alone would be preferable to Veritas, something within him was itching to pry open the other man’s mind.
“Why join the Fools in the first place? If you do not wish to represent them, what use is it to you?” The look Carus gave in response was as far from disinterested as it was from friendly. His expression was quickly schooled into something softer, but the light still made his eyes shine unnaturally and unsettlingly.
“It’s all part of my game. A means to an end. The Fools are a chip for me to place on the table when the time comes, you could say.” Carus’ face betrayed nothing more than what he said. The rest was up to deduction. Carus was from Sigonia, this much was clear by looking at his appearance. Years ago, the entire Avgin population on Sigonia-IV was wiped out under the watchful gaze of the IPC. If Veritas’ recollection of specific traits of peoples in the Sigonia system is sound, which it likely is, the man before him should be Avgin. If the whole population was wiped out, but one still stands before him now…
“Revenge, That’s your purpose? You’re stupidly pursuing revenge against a massive, intergalactic corporation as a single individual. Fame and fortune will not be enough, Fool.” Veritas administered a stern look to Carus. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise, before hardening into a determined look accompanied by a smirk. In a flurry of graceful motion, the man pulled a vintage revolver from his breast pocket, removed the safety, checked the cylinder, spun it back into place, and shoved the pistol into Veritas’ hand. He didn’t even have time to react to the action.
“You don’t believe in me, huh?” Carus looked at him provocatively with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. He grabbed the barrel of the pistol and pushed it against his own chest, while it was still in Veritas’ hand. “Looks like I’ll need to clue you into how I survive, how I do things.”
Veritas tried to pull the gun away from the other’s chest, but the hand overtop his own pulled it back into its previous place with easy force. Carus moved his hand to cover where Veritas’ finger was resting on the side of the trigger, moving his finger into place and pushing it down to fire the gun.
It was a blank. Veritas tried to move the gun away one more time, but it was grabbed back in the same way as before. The man forced him to fire another blank, and another, and another, before fixing him with a stare that made him want to squirm.
“Life is a grand gamble, and I’ll always be the final victor.”
Carus forced the gun to fire one last time before letting Veritas pull it away. He quickly replaced the safety and checked the cylinder. There was one bullet in it, the last compartment left unfired. The man would have died if he’d pulled the trigger one more time. A Fool’s game of Russian Roulette.
“I know you’re certain of my failure, but I hope you’ll watch carefully when I kill every single one of those power hungry bastards. It’ll be quite a grand show.” And with that, Carus plucked the gun from Veritas’ trembling hand and sauntered off like nothing had transpired.
“That foolish gambler is going to get himself killed,” Veritas muttered under his breath, looking out at the planet’s twin moons from the now vacant balcony. Whether the Fool’s words are to be taken as true conviction or a show meant to intimidate him was anyone’s guess, but that unnerving look in his eyes was convincing enough for Veritas. That man… is someone he’ll have to keep watch for.