“Welcome back, Zelda,” Elistar said as the rest of the turen group seemed to melt away, walking off back to whatever they’d been doing, each step so gentle it seemed they were almost floating. The snow was hardly disturbed in the wake of their passing.
“You may remember me from your last visit. I am Elistar, an archive secretary. It will be my task to assist you in your search for the duration of your stay here.”
“Elistar, right,” Zelda said, nodding. “You helped us last time we were here. Good to see you again. How’s it hanging?”
“I do not know what the ‘it’ you are asking about refers to.”
“I meant, how are you?”
“My bodily functions are operating within acceptable ranges.”
Nice ice-breaker, guy. I bet you’re a blast at parties. Thorne shook away her sarcasm and tried to look friendly as she stepped forward and gave a little wave.
“Captain Thorne of the Warden Corps—er, well, former captain. Now, I don’t know. Just Thorne, I guess.”
“Don’t get him started on rank,” Zelda said through comms, but it was too late.
“Rank supposes an alleged categorical hierarchy based on merit, yet our research has found it to be largely corrupted by wealth, societal status, and nepotism. As such, we have deemed it superficial and do not recognize it as an effective system for titles.”
“Oh, uh. I see…” Thorne said, at a loss for how to respond. “Cool?”
Elistar seemed unfazed.
“This way, please,” he said, turning and heading toward the archive.
“Actually, you might be able to help us,” Zelda said, jogging to catch up with him. Her steps were heavy and labored through the snow, leaving it churned and tossed in her wake. In comparison, Elistar’s passing seemed no more than a gentle breeze.
“I intend to help you, as discussed prior.”
“We appreciate that,” Zelda said. “But you know the archives, right? Spent your life studying them?”
“My knowledge of the archives is vast and my memory is precise, yes.”
“Are you familiar with the rumors about a vast criminal organization some refer to as “The Syndicate?” Thorne asked.
Elistar stopped walking. His eyes went out of focus a moment. Thinking, maybe? Then he blinked, all four eyes at once, and spoke as if reciting a passage from memory.
“No such organization as ‘The Syndicate’ is known to exist within the boundaries of the universe,” he said, speaking with confidence, or as close as a turen could get to such an emotion.
“Ha! Told you!” Thorne said to Zelda though comms. “Bunch of rumors. It’s just like I said, this whole thing—”
“‘The Syndicate,’ is however…”
Thorne stopped mid-sentence as the turen continued speaking.
“Among a list of known monikers used to erroneously refer to an entirely different organization. But this knowledge is restricted. Only the wisest of our people may have access to it.”
“Elistar,” Zelda said, leaning in close. “I think you may have heard about some of our recent exploits involving the dark turen?”
Forcing a prestige check, Thorne realized. Nice.
Elistar was still for a moment. He blinked, then nodded.
Prestige check passed.
“Of course, as you have been such a great friend to our people, you are welcome to this knowledge,” Elistar said, focusing on Zelda. “Your friend does not hold such status, however. Thorne may not be present while I disclose this information.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” Zelda said, nodding along. “Though you should know the first thing I’ll do when I leave will be to relay all of the information to Thorne.” Zelda shrugged. “So, really, it’d just be inefficient not to tell her now.”
Clearly that had an effect on the turen. The muscles in his face twitched as he took in her words. Finally, he grimaced – or as close as a turen got to grimacing – and sighed.
“Once the information has been relayed to you it is yours to do with as you please. I cannot stop you from telling Thorne. I also cannot tolerate inefficiency.” Another turen grimace. “Okay, then. I will make an exception on this occasion.”
Zelda smirked at that. Thorne almost gave her a high-five, but right in front of Elistar that just seemed rude.
The turen looked at them both, two eyes on each of them. “As I was saying, ‘The Syndicate’ is among a list of known monikers used to erroneously refer to an entirely different organization. An organization whose knowledge, influence, and ability to reshape the universe to its very will requires us to hold it in high regard. The name of this organization and its members is itself a secret known only to the most educated. Criminals think they are The Syndicate. This is a misnomer. The grachnids think they are the holy broodmothers, and worship them as the ssghriitzeeen.” Elistar opened his mouth wide and did an honestly impressive impression of a grachnid’s screech.
“This is also a misnomer. The Ship Builders, a particularly ancient and somewhat wise race, think they are the original builders themselves, and call them—”
“Get to the point,” Thorne said, anger building. “Who is this all-powerful organization you want us to believe exists?”
Elistar focused all four eyes on her and... smirked? Was that a smirk? Turen didn’t smirk. They hardly ever showed emotion. And yet, the narrow slit of his mouth seemed upturned ever so slightly at the edges.
“They are akin to the very creators of this universe,” he said. “They are the Pansophists.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Werner? That’s the guy from Blue Hex Station,” Titus said through comms as he eyed up their surprise visitors. There were three in total, Werner10 in the middle and two level fifty wardens flanking him. They stood blocking the exit from Marty’s theatre.
“I thought you killed this guy?” Titus asked, staring down Werner10.
“That was Werner08,” Kaiden said, cursing and checking the man’s info again.
Werner10
Warden Captain
Class: Blast Warden
Faction: Warden Corps
Level: 53
“This is Werner again, but he must be on one of those alternate accounts he mentioned. And a considerably stronger one, no less.”
“Where’s the rest of the gang?” Werner10
