Chapter Text
“You do know you’re getting used, right?”
Seraphim startled and whipped around to face the noise, locking eyes with a figure clad in delicate white robes, its golden trim shimmering faintly even in the meagre jungle light. The figure bore an innocuous-looking smile as he tilted his head slightly, as if to get a better look at the tricolour lady.
“You’re… the mediator, Saparata.” Seraphim shuffled back a few steps, her expression guarded as her fingers itched for her blade. “What nonsense are you even talking about?”
“Oh you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The mediator chuckled softly, shaking his head condescendingly as if scolding a child.
Seraphim’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, a hand reaching to her waist to grip the scabbard of her sword tightly. “Mediator, I have much respect for you, but there is an extent of jest that even you cannot cross.”
“Someone’s on their last nerves today.” Saparata hummed playfully, mockingly tapping his finger to his lip as if considering something profound. “Perhaps, it’s about the deal you struck with Flux just earlier this evening?”
A looming feeling of dread seeped into her veins as her face twisted into something ugly. Sweat pooled in her hands as her arms shook wildly. With a loud scrape of metal, Seraphim frenziedly swung her sword towards the mediator. A loud thunk rang out through the jungle as Saparata only took a step sideways, dancing away from the blade that had made its home into the bark where the mediator had been only moments prior. Before Seraphim could remove her blade, a snicker rang out into the humid air. Saparata only casually brushed a few white strands of hair away from his face before turning to smile at her once more. “Well, it seems I was right.”
Seraphim grit her teeth. A tug at her sword told her that it had lodged firmly into the tree, and she sucked in a breath of apprehensive panic. With a click of her tongue, she turned away from her blade to glare at the figure in front of her. “How did you know?”
The mediator chuckled. “How did I know? Perhaps a little birdy told me. Perhaps…” He leaned in closer, a strand of hair slipping forward as he did so. “Perhaps Fluixon’s given you up.”
The dread returned to settle within her veins once more. Seraphim had known that Fluixon wasn’t trustworthy, but she had thought that he had more respect for her to toss her away so easily.
Seeing her conflicted expression, Saparata smiled. “Or maybe he didn’t.”
“You-!”
Cutting her off, Saparata waved a hand casually as if dismissing her. “The point still stands. If you truly can’t believe that he wouldn’t give you up so early, then you know he doesn’t value you at all.”
“He wouldn’t. He knows I’m essential to his plan.” Seraphim let out a strained objection, but even she knew her words sounded like false assurance.
“You’re nothing more than a pawn, Seraphim.” Saparata told her in a falsely delicate voice, a placating look on his face. “And you know that.”
“Yes but, at the end of the day, we have-”
“Similar goals?” The mediator hummed, beginning to pace around her. “I would disagree. Fluixon cares more about Pandora as a whole, as a concept. And even if he were to care about one nation, it sure wouldn’t be Tricolour.” He paused, as if letting the message sink in. “He wouldn’t care if Tricolour crumbled upon itself, so long as he holds its reins to protect the things he cares about.”
The pacing slowed to a stop as his words came to a halt. “This is going to ruin Tricolour, Seraphim. Can you bear to see your beautiful nation abused for the sake of one man’s power hungry paranoia?”
Seraphim slowed her breath in an attempt to placate herself. She hated that he made sense. She hated even more that she believed the white-haired mediator in front of her. Fluixon wasn’t trustworthy. And even if they both had similar concerns towards a Yggdrasil invasion, Seraphim still felt deep attachment to her nation. If Fluixon truly intended to use Tricolour as a means to an end…
“The Vice President of Luminara isn’t a stupid man.” Seraphim attempted a final attempt of objection.
“But he’ll certainly use everything he has at his disposal if he thinks it is necessary.” Saparata casually replied, cynically stomping out her last remains of protest. “And in his current state of paranoia? I don’t think anything is safe from him.”
Seraphim slowly sucked in a breath and let out a weak huff. Despite agreeing, her suspicions still remained. “And what do you gain from this, mediator? Surely you don’t believe I’m naive enough to simply change masters while remaining a pawn.”
A grin spread across Saparata’s face, slight dimples accentuating the unique pair of beauty marks below his eyes. “Why Lady of Tricolour, I’m just a mediator. I don’t have loyalty to any one nation. My job is to resolve the woes of any that come to me for advice.”
Seraphim levied him with an unimpressed look before turning to the side and sighing. “Alright. It’s not like I have any other options.”
Saparata hummed, swaying side to side on his feet leisurely. “A good choice.”
“Well?” Seraphim turned to face the mediator one last time. “What do you need me to do?”
***
A pen scratched quietly in the stillness of a darkened bunker. The walls, a desolate grey, were only fleetingly illuminated by the flickering orange warmth of a lantern.
Fluixon, hunched over a stack of papers, deftly worked through the pile upon his desk. In the meagre lighting, the golden ornaments and trim of his regal black jacket gleamed faintly as a few purple strands of hair slipped on to his face, Brushing his hair aside in annoyance, Fluixon straightened and tapped his papers together before restarting his scrawl across the pages. Despite his well-kempt appearance, every few seconds, his eyes would dart around the room, expectant of something that never appeared. A few seconds of writing passed before the pen stilled, placed upon the table as the figurehead of the Conspiracy sighed and leaned back into his chair. Taking a few moments of silence to clear his head, Fluixon closed his eyes as he leant his head more deeply against the back of the wooden chair.
However, before he could finish his moment of respite, a loud crash resounded through the bunker as the door was slammed open. Fluixon’s eyes slammed open as he jumped from his seat, reaching for his blade before freezing halfway there.
“...Thomas? What are you doing?”
The aforementioned figure only panted heavily, having apparently rushed to the bunker in a hurry. The Engineer of the Architect waved a paper above his head, as he bent over in exhaustion, heaving for air as he attempted to splutter a coherent sentence. “...Flux, flux, it’s Seraphim- she’s gone crazy!”
Swiftly making his way over to the gasping figure, Fluixon shook his head in exasperation as he approached. “Take a breather first, why don’t you?”
“No, Flux, you don’t understand! It’s Seraphim! She-” Thomas cut himself off, glancing nervously at Fluixon. “I don’t know what’s happened but she’s gone and killed Jophiel!”
Fluixon froze, eyes widening in shock. “What the hell is she doing?”
“That’s what I was trying to figure out!” Thomas wrung his hands together anxiously as he watched Fluixon pace across the room. “Everyone in Tricolour is freaking out about it! It won’t be long before the entire island knows.”
Running a hand through his hair, Fluixon groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “How did Tricolour even figure out it was Seraphim?”
“Apparently someone saw her running away from the scene before Jophiel’s body was discovered.”
“Are you serious?” he cursed under his breath. “How long will it take for the news to break?”
“At least for a while, Tricolour’s in shambles. They’ve gone on full lockdown trying to figure out what happened. It’ll take some time before they let any information leak.”
Fluixon made a noise of annoyance, before hurrying to his desk to snatch his communicator off of it, aggressively typing out a message to the source of all his current headaches.
<Fluixon> Seraphim, what the hell are you doing?
<Seraphim> ???
<Seraphim> What do you mean, isn’t this the plan?
<Fluixon> The plan was to kill Jophiel with all the other leaders, where did you even get the idea to kill Jophiel?
<Seraphim> Seriously? This is the plan that Snowbird handed to me though.
Fluixon slammed the communicator on his desk in frustration before releasing a constrained sigh of annoyance. He rubbed his temples together, as if attempting to soothe the headache he could feel building behind his eyes. After a moment of silence, he turned to face Thomas. “Gather the rest of the Conspiracy, we have to figure out what to do now.”
Thomas nodded, quickly heading for the door. “And then?”
And then… Fluixon’s mind drifted to the tender smile of a familiar white garbed figure, as an unfamiliar feeling welled inside the hollow of his chest, quickly overshadowed by the familiar sting of bitterness. He resolutely pushed the melancholy away. It didn’t matter the cost, Fluixon knew there would be sacrifices he had to pay to achieve his goals.
If you had to betray one person to save a thousand, would you?
“And then, we go say hi to our mediator.” Fluixon smiled.
Yes. Even if that one person has to be you, Saps.
***
<Fluixon> Seraphim, come to the bunker now.
<Seraphim> Ok. It will take a while to reach Luminara.
<Fluixon> Just come ASAP. Plans have changed.
***
Docking at the shores of Saparata’s island, Fluixon’s gaze drifted upwards towards the unfinished home.
“Not gonna lie, this place is kinda nice.” Snowbird sighed contentedly as lazy beams of sunlight glistened down upon the group as he stretched upwards. “Shame it’ll be the scene of a murder soon.”
Behind him, Hvyrotation chuckled, only laughing harder when the sand he kicked towards Snowbird’s feet caused him to screech indignantly.
Thomas sidled up behind the pair, snickering quietly. “I think a vacation home is the perfect place for a murder mystery.”
“More like 10 executions.” Gotoga remarked sarcastically, stepping out of his own boat. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be in Harbourloom now?”
“Yeah, in a bit. I should go before Fluixon gets all grouchy at me.” Thomas sighed, pulling up the oars he had dropped several steps behind to lean on. “He’s even more paranoid now, cause of Snowbird screwing everything up.”
“Hey! I told you, I swear I gave Seraphim the right plans!” Snowbird yelped further in the distance, skidding his chase for Rotation to a stop.
“Sure you did, Snowbird.” Hvyrotation snickered, pelting Snowbird with more sand while he was distracted.
“Let’s get going already.” Fluixon sighed, glancing down as his communicator. “NewKids is waiting for you at Luminara, Thomas.”
Thomas groaned, slumping over the oar he had been leaning upon. “Already? I’m sick of boating.”
“Hurry up.”
“Yeep, got it boss.” Thomas let out a dramatic sigh. “Seriously, why do I gotta be the messenger all the time. Maybe I wanna talk to Saps one last time as well.”
Snowbird scoffed “As if! You don’t care about-”
“Thomas.” Fluixon cut Snowbird off flatly. “Leave.”
“Yikes, got it.” Thomas winced before turning around to loudly whisper to Gotoga. “Forget he’s been all moody whenever someone mentions Saparata these days.”
Gotoga sighed exasperatedly. “He’s having some big feelings that he’s clearly not ready for.”
“He knows that he’s the one that came up with this plan, right?”
“Thomas!”
“Leaving now!”
Fluixon watched as Thomas speedily hopped into his boat, waving a quick goodbye to the other members of the conspiracy before disappearing into the distance. The other conspiracy members also paused to wave goodbye before energetically beginning to race up the mountain of steps that led to Saparata’s home.
Fluixon huffed, rolling his eyes before following the other members up the steps, his head still lost in his thoughts. Today would be the last day before everything changed. After today, Pandora would finally be safe. After today, he would never see his fond smile, the silken strands of his white hair framing the delicate expression upon his face.
“What are you doing lost in thought, silly?”
Fluixon slowed to a halt, turning to look at the figure plaguing his thoughts leisurely sitting beside the top of the steps.
“Saps…” Fluixon trailed off, his mind buzzing uncomfortably blank as he desperately tried to grasp at his last train of thought.
Saparata laughed languidly, hopping to his feet as he skipped to a stop in front of the purple-haired man. “It’s nice to see you, Flux.”
“It’s only been a couple of days.” Fluixon huffed, amusement warring with the incessant feeling of remorse he had felt these past few days whenever his thoughts drifted to the mediator in front of him. “Surely you can’t have missed me that much.”
“Hey! It’s been way longer than a couple of days.” Saparata yelped in indignation.
“And that last time I saw you was at, y'know, the meeting.” He trailed off, expression turning softer as he glanced at Fluixon with worried eyes. “I heard you were demoted from Vice President. I would’ve reached out earlier, but news takes forever to get here. I don’t know what’s going on with Luminara politics, but if you need anything, I’ll be there for you okay?”
Saparata’s hand came up to rest on Fluixon’s shoulder as he looked at him intently, eyes shining with certainty and warmth.
Fluixon stared at the mediator, emotions clashing like the waves of an ocean during a storm. For a moment, the world held its breath, waiting for his next action.
A smile slowly broke onto Fluixon’s face, his mind finally settled after weeks of turmoil. “Of course, Saps. Truly, you’ll do anything?”
The mediator let out a relieved smile after glancing at Fluixon’s own, elation clearly evident in his face after uplifting his friend’s spirits. “Anything.”
Fluixon hummed in response, drifting the conversation to a satisfactory end before allowing his friend to drag him closer to the rest of the group.
Anything, huh?
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
***
“You guys really didn’t have to help, y’know?”
Fluixon watched as Saparata trudged over to the rest of the group, his white robes and hair ruffled after a day’s hard work. Despite his words, he had a fond smile on his face as he stared up at his nearly constructed home.
“Wow, did you hear that, Rotation? Saps hates us.” Snowbird teased, nudging an elbow into the mediator’s side. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Would’ve left days ago.”
Hvyrotation snickered, rounding to the other side of Saparata to perch upon his shoulder, drawling out a sarcastic remark. “Seriously, that’s messed up dude. We toiled for days in that horrible jungle sun to help build your home. So much for the virtuous mediator.”
Stuck between the teasing of his friends, Saparata laughed lightheartedly. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, aren’t you all really busy?”
Snowbird paused, tilting his head back in thought. “Ehh, not really?”
At his words, Gotoga paused from where had been carrying materials for the roof and scowled at Snowbird. “That’s because you procrastinate on all your council duties and make me do everything.”
Snowbird chuckled sheepishly. “Oops?”
“Is that where Thomas is then?” Saparata hummed, approaching the pile of materials Gotoga had placed upon the ground, haphazardly picking up a few pieces of sandstone to inspect. “Booted to council duty?”
“He’s on diplomatic duty in Tricolour right now.” Hvyrotation chimed in while mindless patching up a sandstone pillar. “See, it’s these kinda chores that make me glad I’m not on the Luminara Council.”
“There isn’t much going on in Luminara recently, so Thomas alone is enough.” Fluixon remarked offhandedly, pulling out his communicator to glance at his messages. “Although he’s been whining all day to me.”
Saparata snickered to himself, and Fluixon knew he was picturing Thomas’s invisible plight. “Stuck with the job nobody wants.”
“Can you guys stop slacking off?” Gotoga groaned from behind the group. “The build’s not going to get any more completed if you keep talking all day.”
Snowbird pouted, pulling playfully at Gotoga’s sweater. “Aww, chill out a little Gotoga. We’re almost done anyway… it’s just the roof that needs to be finished.”
Fluixon’s attention was drawn away from the bickering as his communicator buzzed, another message coming from Thomas. Except this time, the message was different.
Right on cue, Thomas.
<Thomas> Fluixon, the information’s out. Tricolour has officially declared Queen Jophiel as deceased.
<Fluixon> Good. Come back to Saparata’s home with NewKids. It’s time to start the plan.
Gotoga visibly bristled, but before he could retort, Fluixon cut into their conversation, pushing a tone of false alarm into his voice.
“Guys, listen, Queen Jophiel was just proclaimed dead.” Fluixon intoned, distress clear to any common person. “Thomas just told me that Tricolour is in shambles.”
The members of the conspiracy gasped, but Fluixon knew all their eyes had fallen upon the one person this show was put on for. Fluixon had also found his eyes drifting to the mediator clad in white, waiting anxiously, patiently, for his reaction.
“Jophiel…?” Saparata took a step back, and then another, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “There’s no way. How did it even happen?”
Fluixon glanced back at his communicator, as if he needed more context to the situation that he’d fabricated and recited weeks in advance. “Thomas told me that apparently it was the Lady of Tricolour, Seraphim, who murdered their queen.”
Sliding his gaze away from his communicator, Fluixon once more found his eyes drifting to Saparata’s figure, watching as he took in shaky breaths.
“Seraphim? Seraphim killed Jophiel?”
When his breath hitched, Fluixon ripped his gaze away. He’d known that the mediator and the Queen of Tricolour had been close, but he’d never known the relationship between the two. And now he never would. However, seeing his reaction now, Fluixon was sure that it had to have been one rooted in deep care.
So Fluixon had glanced away. In his last act of mercy towards the mediator who’d only wanted the best for all of Pandora.
“That’s horrible…” Snowbird muttered as he attempted to place a comforting hand on Saparata, only to pause halfway there. His hand hovered beside his shoulder for a few moments, before pulling his hand back and letting it fall to his side.
The entire Conspiracy shot the man a look of disbelief, and Fluixon loudly bemoaned in his head at how horrible Snowbird’s acting was.
How is he both so competent and incompetent at the same time? Someone revoke his title of Diplomat right now.
Promptly, Fluixon cast a look at Gotoga, who nodded in understanding. In the next moment, Gotoga subtly nudged Snowbird out of the way and stood in front of Saparata, gently taking one of his arms that had begun pulling at his white hair into his hands. “Saps, I know this situation is horrible, but we have to act. Tricolour’s probably in absolute disorder, and the rest of the nations might not be far behind. You know Jophiel wouldn’t have wanted her death to result in the collapse of her nation.”
Fluixon nodded in satisfaction, before interjecting into the conversation himself. “It would be a good idea to hold a meeting immediately. Pandora needs to be united during such trying times.”
Allowing himself to glance at the figure clad in white and gold, Fluixon found himself settling when he realized that Saparata had ceased his trembling. “The next course of action has to be decided if we are to remain an island of peace.”
“Right… A meeting…” Saparata inhaled shakily, anxiety clear in his eyes as he glanced around nonsensically before his gaze flitted to the roof. “Wait, but… the roof isn’t done.”
“Saps, don’t worry about the roof.” Fluixon purposefully softened his voice, as if approaching a wounded animal. He could not mess this up. Not now when they were this close to accomplishing their goal. “The people need you. Tricolour needs you. Pandora needs their mediator.”
At his silence, Fluixon continued to gently but insistently push. “Go gather the leaders. We’ll deal with your roof.”
After a few more moments of silence, Saparata exhaled sharply, swiping a hand across his eyes harshly as he nodded, strands of his white hair failing out of his delicate braids. “Okay, yeah. I’ll go set up an emergency meeting.”
Fluixon watched as Saparata hurriedly began to gather his things for the upcoming journey, rushing for the exit before he paused.
Apprehensively, the Architect watched as the mediator turned around to smile weakly at them. “Thanks Flux. Thanks everyone. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
With those words, the mediator slipped out the exit, the tail ends of his toga fluttering out of sight.
A moment of silence held in the room before the Conspiracy let out a collective sigh of relief, immediately breaking the tension as everyone relaxed.
Everyone- except Fluixon, who continued to stare at the direction that Saparata had left even after the person he sought had long since departed.
Lost in his thoughts, Fluixon no longer pondered the what ifs. He had long since made his decision, and his plan was finally in reach. Maybe when the final stalactite fell, his heart would finally be settled.
“Well, there goes our mediator.” Snowbird remarked casually before he paused, the slight smile he had on his face sliding into a contemplative frown. “Are we… really doing this?”
Hvyrotation raised an eyebrow at the other. “You’re having doubts now?”
Snowbird shook his head aggressively, flailing his arms in an attempt to defend himself against a verbal attack that had never really came. “No, not that. I’m just saying…”
“What, about Saps?” Snowbird startled as Gotoga interjected, an almost guilty look sliding on to his face as the other guessed exactly what he was thinking of. Gotoga sighed and ruffled his hair lightly. “You know we have no choice.”
“I know. It’s just, of all people, it just had to be Saps?”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group.
“Saps is an unfortunate consequence to our mission.” Fluixon started, the Conspiracy turning their attention upon their leader as he spoke, drinking in his word as gospel like lost sheep desperate for salvation. “But we strive towards a world where it will be better for everyone. In a world of inaction, even the innocent, individuals like Saparata, will face suffering. We are providing the kinder way out, even for those who are not deserving.”
Fluixon’s gaze once more drifted towards the exit, expectant for an individual that would never arrive. “We must deliver peace and safety, even if the actions we must take are ones that we never wanted to do. But it needs to be done. The current leadership has to go.”
The Conspiracy all nodded in unison. They had all long grown discontented with the leaders of Pandora. Fluixon knew they all understood that the ends needed to be achieved.
Still, a lingering disquiet remained. Perhaps they had never fully considered the means they discarded to achieve their final goal.
But still, their fixation, their paranoia, for their desires won out.
“Alright, it’s go time.” Seizing the moment of silence, Fluixon commandeered his group into action. “Thomas and NewKids will join us later, but for now, it’s time to build that trap.”
***
<Fluixon> Seraphim, where are you?
<Fluixon> Seraphim?
<Fluixon> Seraphim, respond.
***
“Are you serious?” Fluixon gnashed his teeth together, his communicator threatening to break in his vice grip.
The Conspiracy, having been rushing to complete the roof and embedded trap in Saparata’s home, all paused for a moment, noticing their leader’s anger.
“What’s wrong, Flux?” Thomas had slid next to his fuming figure, peeking over his shoulder to glance at the communicator.
With a final press of a button, Fluixon angrily stowed the communicator away, whipping around to face the group. “Change of plans, Seraphim is no longer responding.”
“Huh? Are you serious?” Hvyrotation scrambled down from the roof, brushing away redstone and sand as he approached.
“Seraphim hasn’t been responding to me for the past few days. I had simply thought she might be busy being chased, but even now she hasn’t responded.” Fluixon cursed under his breath, anger at both his own lack of foresight and the Lady of Tricolour. “I should’ve known she was unreliable.”
“See, I told you I definitely gave her the right plans. It wasn’t my fault!” From above, Snowbird yelled, his indignation at being blamed for the previous plan’s failure still pervasive in his head.
Fluixon only scowled, picking anxiously at the bolts in his metallic arm.
Thomas frowned upwards. “Not the time, Snowbird.”
Turning to Fluixon, his demeanor eased, placing a hand on Fluixon’s shoulder, attempting to soothe the others' worries. “It’ll be alright. Besides, the roof is almost done, and we’ve made backup plans, remember?”
Thomas was right, Fluixon knew. But still, he couldn’t help but be… unnerved. His plans were strangely going off course for the most arbitrary reasons, and he couldn’t tell why. Was there something he was missing?
Still, plans weren’t unsalvageable, like Thomas mentioned.
“NewKids.”
The aforementioned figure stuck his head down from the roof, heterochromatic eyes glinting in the sun. “Yeah?”
“You’re going to be in charge of pulling the trap instead of Seraphim.”
The eyes of the youngest member of the Conspiracy shone with glee. “For real?! Yesss.”
Thomas sent an amused glance to Fluixon. “He does know this means he’s getting a KOS, right?”
Fluixon only gestured at NewKids indifferently without looking, who was now boasting about his new position to the other members of the Conspiracy that were humouring their youngest member. “Honestly I think he finds it fun.”
“How cruel of you.” Thomas remarked playfully, a spark of mirth in his eyes as he nudged Fluixon goodheartedly.
In spite of the easy-going tease, Fluixon froze. He blinked rapidly as he felt illusionary vice hands slip around his throat and seize tightly, cutting off his supply of air alongside the words he’d intended to say. The remark swirled slowly around in his head, echoing sinisterly as his mind slipped towards a mediator clad in white— a pathway of thought too natural to follow than Fluixon was pleased with. In the next moment, his breath hitched as he found himself choking out words too truthful than he was comfortable with.
“Thomas, do you think I’m cruel?”
Thomas blinked at the question, a charged silence buzzing in the air as the light hum of construction droned on relentlessly in the background. Pondering the question for a few moments, Thomas tilted his head in puzzlement as he responded. “No, I don’t.”
The silence stretched on for another moment that more closely resembled an eon. “Why do you ask?” Thomas sounded, mustering his courage to beseech an explanation.
“...No reason.”
Fluixon watched from the corner of his eye, hidden behind a curtain of purple bangs, as Thomas gave him a long considering look before withdrawing.
<Saparata> I’m heading back with all the leaders. How’s the roof looking?
“Gotoga, is the trap finished?” Fluixon called, hands settling on the device in front of him.
Gotoga hummed. “Yes, just about.”
“It has to be finished. Saparata is heading back now.”
Gotoga made an affirmative noise, slipping down the ladder. “Well, I would’ve liked to check the trap since it was made in a hurry, but if we’re short on time then it’s as good as done.”
“Good. It’s time to go.”
One after another, the remaining members of the Conspiracy shuffled down from the roof, all covered in redstone and sand.
“Since the plan’s been changed, we need someone observing the scene. Thomas, volunteer yourself as one of the guards for 3Below. Everyone else, to the bunker.” Fluixon smoothly divulged, before turning around swiftly towards the exit, expectant for the others to follow.
“Seriously, what is this trend of dumping tedious roles to me?” Thomas complained, speeding up his footsteps to reach Fluixon as he stepped out of the building, squinting as the bright light of the jungle hit his eyes.
Fluixon only shot the other an annoyed glance before continuing on his swift descent down the stairs. “You know what it means, Thomas.”
Thomas only shot a grin in response. “Can’t help that I’m so reliable, can I?”
Fluixon only hummed absentmindedly as he typed out a message on his communicator.
Deciding to take the non-answer as agreement, Thomas fell into a contented silence as the jungle air buzzed with the carefree dialogue of the Conspiracy.
***
<Fluixon> The roof’s done. I’ll head out first, since I’ve been banned from the meeting.
<Saparata> Seriously, thanks so much, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.
<Fluixon> Have a panic attack, clearly. It will be fine, Saps. Just do what you always do.
<Saparata> I just…
<Fluixon> You just…?
<Saparata> I just wish you could be there at the meeting, y’know? It would be a lot better, being able to see you.
Fluixon paused, blinking at the screen. He typed in a couple of letters, only to rapidly delete them, restlessly tapping on the device screen.
<Fluixon> Like I said, you’ll do fine, even without me. If you’re so worried, Thomas should be there as one of 3Below’s guards.
<Saparata> It just won’t be the same.
Fluixon furrowed his brow. He hadn’t caught the message that Saparata had sent before the message had disappeared in the swarm of general chat, distracted by a conversation with Thomas. Still, his eyes focused on the next four words that the mediator had sent.
<Saparata> You’re the best. I’ll see you soon?
He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, hesitating for the last time.
<Fluixon> Yeah, I’ll see you soon.
<Fluixon> Goodbye.
***
Thomas sighed heavily, overheating in his armour below the jungle sun. He stood outside the meeting hall alongside all the other guards, patrolling slowly along the perimeter.
As he stood, he could hear snippets of the meeting that droned on in the background. Frowning slightly, Thomas tilted his head, trying to hear more of the discussion without drawing attention to himself.
Is it really necessary for me to be here?
Groaning, he slipped more weight onto his axe, using it as a crutch. From the meeting hall, a fragmented shout of indignation caught his attention.
“We want Seraphim alive.” A representative from Tricolour emphasized loudly, slamming a palm onto the table and sending a few papers flying. “Tricolour deserves closure and the other nations of Pandora need to respect that.”
Across from Tricolour’s representative, another representative from a smaller nation scoffed. “Oh please, we aren’t going to put our nation in danger because Tricolour was too incompetent to realize their second-in-command was a backstabbing traitor with unknown reasons.”
Tricolour’s representative stood from their seat in indignation. “You dare call Tricolour incompetent?!”
The gentle rapping of knuckles on the table seized the attention of all the leaders and Thomas listened as Saparata’s mellow voice gently cut through the commotion.
“Please, remain seated. I know tensions remain high, but our priorities focus upon discussing a unanimous decision, rather than anything radical.”
The representatives glanced away in discomfort, settling back down into their respective chairs as they rustled with their papers abashedly.
In the brief moments of silence, Aperion’s president quickly seized the attention of the group by clearing his throat, before continuing the discussion. “Aperion is going to try to capture them alive.”
The representative of Tricolour sent a look of relief towards him at his words. “Thank you, really.”
“Capture if possible, kill if necessary.”
“Then, I believe a KOS is not necessary.” Korulein, a councillor of the Commonwealth declared, absentmindedly shuffling through a stack of documents. “Instead, perhaps a wanted notice? With an emphasis on capture but authorizing killing the suspect if she becomes violent as an addendum.”
A low murmur of consent rippled through the leaders, prompting the leader to glance at Saparata who nodded in acknowledgement.
“Alright then, all in favour of placing Seraphim as a high priority wanted suspect all across Pandora?”
A unanimous rumble of “aye’s” rang throughout the room.
“Excellent.” Saparata placed a document to the side, eyes scanning across the page. “Then, the next order of business…”
As he listened, Thomas found his thoughts wandering away towards the matter of Seraphim’s disappearance. Despite what Fluixon believed, Thomas found Seraphim’s timely withdrawal odd. However, he held his tongue, doubtful of his beliefs. Although it was true that Seraphim was currently being hunted down, it just seemed strangely odd that she had all but dropped off the map, both physically and through any methods of communication. Thomas had half a mind to suspect she had died on the run.
A rustle dragged Thomas out of his thoughts and he snapped his eyes over to the shrubbery leading to the jungle to watch the cloaked figure of NewKids slip out and into another bush, placing a cheeky finger in a shushing motion over a smirk.
Aware that NewKids had only appeared to alert Thomas of his arrival, he shifted upright, becoming more alert as he readied himself for what was to come. Straightening himself and adjusting his armour, he kept a careful eye on the movements of NewKids as he listened cautiously to the ongoing discussion within the building.
“I know it seems improper of me to bring this up as a mediator, but as a neutral ambassador of Pandora, I feel it is necessary.” Saparata started, and Thomas watched as he paused deliberately to gauge the reactions of the leaders. Observing that the reaction remained impartial, Saparata continued. “I have concerns of a possibility, any possibility, that the assasination of Wolfram and the assasination of Jophiel is anyway connected. Is there a conspiracy going on right now? Are leaders safe?”
Thomas felt a wave of incredulous mirth wash over him. The irony of the statement was not lost upon him as he felt himself biting down a snicker, watching as NewKids actively began to scale on to the roof unnoticed.
A murmur of unease spread across the table.
“For the most part of this meeting, Tricolour has preached that Seraphim seemed to truly care for both Tricolour and its Queen.” The representatives of Tricolour nodded uneasily at the mediator’s words, grateful at his acknowledgements but turmoil clear upon their faces. “Then we know the murder wasn’t one of personal grudges or a struggle for power, as Seraphim would’ve acted much differently.”
“It’s almost as if Seraphim wasn’t acting like herself…” The representation of Tricolour to Saparata’s left mourned quietly, their words trailing off.
Across from them, the President of Luminara perked up, as if coming to a sudden realization. “Then, is it possible that someone else was influencing, maybe even manipulating, Seraphim?”
His statement made rounds across the table as they all made incredulous noises, but none of them seemed to object, rather, it appeared as if they believed the conjecture revealed a deeper layer of the plot.
Thomas narrowed his eyes, scanning the leaders before his eyes landed on Saparata, seated at the head of the table. In contrast to the other leaders, Saparata seemed to be the only individual to have not been fazed by such a revelation, and slowly, Thomas felt his previous amusement sink into a sickening feeling of dread.
“Yes, that’s it, it has to be!” A representative of Tricolour shouted desperately, comforted by the knowledge that perhaps Jophiels closest confidant, the Lady of Tricolour, hadn’t truly meant to betray them. “Seraphim had no reason to do it otherwise!”
However, Thomas’s attention rested solely on the mediator, watching closely to his smallest of movements with a nauseating feeling churning in his gut. Unlike before, when Tricolour’s representative had gotten overly fervent, this time, Saparata remained indifferently passive, allowing the Tricolour’s ardor to sway the unanimous sentiment. Saparata only smiled serenely, eerily. His calm in the face of chaos was no longer soothing nor admirable.
Had it always been this sinister and chilling?
Breaking into a cold sweat, Thomas realized with a jerk that the mediator had been deliberately steering the discussion. To what extent Saparata had realized about the conspiracy circling around Pandora, Thomas did not know.
Gripping on to his communicator tightly, Thomas considered sending a message to the Conspiracy before disregarding his thought. As long as this meeting ended, alongside the lives of all the leaders inside, the topics discussed during this gathering would no longer be a problem.
Just when would NewKids pull that lever?
Thomas was growing impatient.
“Hold on.” Korulein of the Commonwealth interjected. “We understand you are passionate about this theory, but who would even have enough power and expertise to sway a trusted confidant of Jophiel to their side?”
“Isn’t it more important to find out why someone would do this?” President Alkaline argued, restlessly tapping his fingers on the table. “Such a motive would easily identify suspects with such capacity.”
“If we truly suspect that it's a conspiracy, then it must be an inter-island issue. An issue that they believe is serious enough to get rid of leaders.” The president of Luminara suggested tentatively.
“But why target leaders indiscriminately?”
The mediator hummed consideringly. “Perhaps they find the leadership in Pandora to be… inadequate.”
Before any conversation could continue, the sound of a piston sounded from above and within a blink of an eye, dripstone came hurtling down from above.
The wet sound of stone piercing through flesh and spearing into the ground reverberated throughout the open room. In a few moments that seemed to stretch on for years, the world held its breath, an oppressive stillness permeating in the air.
Suddenly, a horrified scream resounded, breaking the paralyzed silence and the world immediately erupted in mayhem.
As fervid hysteria infected the room, Thomas instead found himself relaxing, tensions seeping out from his shoulders as he impassively stared at the dead bodies of the Pandoran leaders strewn across the table, pierced into their seats by the fallen stalactites. He noticed with a grimace that four of the leaders had survived, including 3BelowZero. However, the redstone malfunction was understandable with how little time they’d had to prepare. Thomas exhaled in relief, elated that the trap had gone to plan. From here on, everything else was salvageable.
Filled with respite, Thomas offhandedly turned his gaze to Saparata.
…What?
Panic seized his entire figure, a dizzying feeling of terror seeping deep into his veins.
This is not what’s supposed to happen.
Thomas’s eyes shook with horror as his vision landed upon a figure stained with blood, the red seeping into the delicate white fabrics to form a morbid image. The mediator lay strewn on the floor, his chair knocked over backwards, trembling and covered in blood as guards flocked towards his downed figure.
A dripstone had ripped past his face and eye before impaling itself in his left arm, lodging deep into skin and bone.
Why was there dripstone above his seat?
It appeared that the mediator had attempted to leap out of the way, turning rightward to avoid any life ending injuries, sacrificing his arm in place of his heart.
Unwillingly, a memory bubbled into Thomas’s mind.
“Why is your seat so wide?” Thomas watched as Fluixon made a face at the chair he was looking at, rocking it side to side to inspect its dimensions.
“Cause I want it to be, duh.” Saparata rolled his eyes and yelped when his friend smacked him on the shoulder in retaliation. “No seriously!”
Frowning unhappily, Fluixon continued to nudge at the chair as if it had caused some sort of personal vendetta to the purple haired man. “It doesn’t match the other chairs, it’ll make the meeting room look stupid.”
“It’s supposed to stand out, it’s my table after all, so I’ll be at the head of the table. It’s my treat for being a mediator despite not wanting any kind of relationship with politics, wouldn’t you agree?” Saparata winked at the pair. “And for the record, I seriously don’t get you and room architecture.”
Fluixon huffed incredulously, glancing back at Thomas as if confirming the audacity of the man in front of me.
“The man wants what he wants Flux.” Thomas clapped the back of Fluixon’s back, feeling his solid warmth under his palm before the other had shrugged him off carelessly.
“And I guess that means a two-block chair.”
Saparata laughed, carefree and delighted. “That’s exactly what it means!”
Thomas shook his head in incomprehension. Had Saparata known something all the way back then? The two-block chair had meant that the falling dripstone would only strike one side, creating a chance to live in what would typically be an instant death trap, especially if the target knew there would be a trap.
But if he knew there would be a trap, why wouldn’t he just remove it? Or even confront us?
His thoughts roared in his ears, but all Thomas could do was stare, his eyes glazing at the inconceivable scene in front of him. Just a few paces away in front of him, in what felt like an insurmountable hazy distance between, Saparata laid on the ground, gasping in pain.
But something about the scene made him pause. Something abnormal. Once more, Thomas stiffened, breath seizing in his chest as he struggled for air.
What Thomas initially observed to be heaving sobs wasn’t a cry of pain at all. Instead, the mediator was racked with breathless hysterical laughter.
The mediator trembled and trembled, pearls of inaudible giggling spilling out of his throat as he laid curled over on the floor, bleeding out and clutching at his wounds.
To the ordinary eye, to the crowd of guards urgently attempting to assist the only injured figurehead in the room, the mediator was a model victim, consumed in a haze of pain.
In the next moment, as if alerted by his stare, Saparata whipped around, doubled over in agony and hysterics as he locked their eyes together. Thomas gazed into manic and gleeful eyes, Saparata’s smile somehow stretching impossibly even wider as he met his leer, before he fell over once more, playing the faultless casualty.
In the brief second that their eyes had locked, Thomas swore he saw a glimmer of delirious and vicious victory shining in his eyes.
Thomas found his feet stepping back unconsciously, nearly losing his balance as he scrambled for purchase, both physically and mentally.
In the distance he could hear shouts of fighting, as he was sure that NewKids had leapt from the roof, delighting in the heat of a battle. But in the moment, all Thomas could hear was a ringing sound of static buzzing deafeningly in his ears.
A few paces away, the mediator continued to lay in a heap of bloodstained robes. Under a veil of his incandescent white hair, a sadistic smile twisted.
What now, Flux?
Are you prepared to lose what you sought to ruin for me?