Part 2
Completed part 2. Again, watch out for end-of-game spoilers! No dandruff jokes this time, but I did manage to work in a few snarky comments about beans. 'Emoretta' as a translation for 'Nekaretta' is purely raikochan's invention... I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it. -_- This one's also rather grimmer than the previous one, but the concluding part wil end happily ever after, don't worry.
I've translated 'doushi' as 'hierarch' ('Pope Ion' sounds kind of bleh to me), 'daieishi' as 'cardinal', and 'eishi' as 'bishop'. If bishops are actually higher-ranked than cardinals, I apologize. I'm Jewish and not too familiar with Catholic terminology. :P
Part 2
Lunch in the cathedral was a rather disorganised affair; it was served pretty much all day long, and the times people ate depended more on their shifts or personal preference than some strict schedule. But if you were clever, and had lived in the complex long enough, you learned when the good cooks went on duty and when it was better to starve. Anise had often made use of her charm to get her hands on decent food for first her parents, who were so absentminded they would eat the pot scrapings and then compliment the cook, and then Ion, who couldn't handle rich food but was too shy to object when some lavish new invention was set before him.
Pamela's choice of a time to eat had little to do with Anise's calculations, and more to do with taking another child another her wing and wanting to bring it up right. She had never understood where her daughter's ferocity had come from, being herself pleasant and even-tempered and most of the time lost in thought, and she wanted to make sure that the sainted Ion's replica didn't grow up as wild. Orderly mealtimes and constant lessons were a part of that. Unfortunately, as Anise and Florian had noted to themselves, the best food and the best times did not coincide. Florian practiced his blinding smile on the cooks, and Pamela and Oliver noticed that the food tasted better, but did not connect the two. As for Anise, she encouraged her young disciple in the art of scamming, but was occasionally alarmed at his rapid progress. She was sure she herself had never been that shameless.
After rigorously checking Florian's hands for dirt, Pamela voted him clean enough to be acceptable, and allowed the two to sit down. "Now, what do we do?" she asked sternly, keen never to miss an opportunity for a useful and moral lesson.
"We say the prayer before eating," answered Florian, dutifully.
"Good! Oliver, will you lead us? Oliver-" Pamela turned to her husband, who was looking off into the distance and sketching out his thoughts with his fingers in the empty air. Cardinal Tritheim's sermon this morning had been very interesting, especially when you compared the text in that book he'd been reading-
Pamela coughed, meaningfully.
Startled, Oliver looked up at his wife, and then around to his daughter and the deceased Hierarch's double, and blinked. He then looked at the food, and his eyebrows rose. "Oh! Oh yes, excuse me. I was just thinking about what the Cardinal said this morning, you remember, Anise, about the spiritual function of Fone particles-"
"Yes, I heard it, but now it's lunchtime," his daughter said, with a trace of irritation in her voice. Oh Ion, why did her parents have to be so stupid all the time?
"It's all right," Florian said soothingly. "But I played all morning and now I'm a bit hungry~" his voice rising to a whine at the end. Anise mentally gave him a nine out of ten for the "small child who's been good all morning" act, and watched its effect on her parents with appreciation. As Pamela scrambled to ladle some food into 'the poor boy's plate', Florian turned to Anise and tilted his head.
The question was clear. Anise held up nine fingers, and Florian beamed.
After serving everyone and eating a little herself, Pamela turned to Anise. "How have your studies been going, Anise? You've been so busy lately that we hardly see you anymore."
"Fine," said Anise, her voice a bit muffled by the food. She swallowed and continued. "I've been doing the early history of the Lorelai Order. The founding of Oracle, that kind of stuff." It was interesting how much of the traditions Anise considered part and parcel of the church had actually appeared decades if not centuries later, she reflected.
"Really?" asked Oliver, interested. "I thought you were reading the records of the Score from previous eras."
"That too."
"My!" exclaimed Pamela. "You've become so diligent, I can't recognize my own daughter anymore. Florian, more vegetables? They're good for you."
"I told you, I'm going to be the next Hierarch," Anise said, matter-of-factly, and speared another piece of chicken with her fork. "So I need to know this kind of thing."
Pamela and Oliver exchanged a long look that was only interrupted when Florian tugged on his plate. Pamela blinked, looked at the second helping of vegetables she'd been in the middle of serving him, and filled it up before passing it back. Florian looked with resignation at all the green stuff littering it, and after it stubbornly refused to turn into something more exciting than beans, sighed and poked his fork in.
"...Anise," began Oliver, slowly. "You know we've talked to you about this before, and we do appreciate all the work you've been doing.."
"Thank you," said Anise, drily, and waited for the 'but'.
A bit sidetracked by the flat tone in his daughter's voice, Oliver started over again. "It's wonderful that you're studying so hard, and we're both very proud of you, but we do think that your youthful enthusiasm might be, ehem, misdirected in this case.."
Gotcha, thought Anise.
Pamela took up her husband's thread. "Whoever is selected for the position of new Hierarch - not that we can think of Daath without Lord Ion, the poor soul - will be a venerable man, a pillar of the church. Certainly no one of rank less than Cardinal. Like Master Tritheim, for example..."
"Or Elder Theodoro," interjected Oliver, relieved to turn the subject to something less inflammatory.
"Weeeeell, it's true he has the experience," said Pamela, waving her hand back and forth in polite disagreement, "But I think someone like Cardinal Mosse would have been best, if he hadn't passed away."
Anise choked. "Mosse? Mosse?! Mother, are you out of your mind?"
"Anise, don't be rude! Mosse was a great man, he helped your father and I so much. He even took you under his wing, even though I can't understand why when you talk like that. - Florian, don't push your beans around your plate, it's a waste of good food."
"Yes, Pamela," Florian said. Anise took advantage of the brief lull in the conversation to forcibly calm herself down, while Pamela put another piece of chicken on her husband's plate.
"Very good food," agreed Oliver. "We should go over and thank the cooks later-"
"There have been Hierarchs of only Bishop rank before," Anise interrupted. "At least twice by ND 500, and more after. And if Dist or Emoretta could be Bishops, I could be one too. I'm already a Fone Master Guardian, you know that."
Pamela looked scandalized. "Still with that nickname for that poor child... Don't you have any respect for the dead?!" she scolded. "And Master Dist and Lady Arietta were both Bishops because of their rank as Generals in Oracle, it's not the same thing..."
"I also have a rank in Oracle..."
"What upsets me," Oliver said, slowly, "Is the idea that you've been studying less out of love for knowledge or for Mother Yuria, and more to achieve this rank..."
"That's exactly why I've been studying. So what?" Anise asked, indifferently.
"A true elder of the church is not selected because of his ambition. Ideally, it should be a surprise..." Oliver began.
"And that has happened exactly how many times?" muttered Anise, to her rice. Florian turned towards her and frowned.
"Pardon?" inquired Pamela, with a bit of an edge to her voice.
"Nothing."
"A-anyway," stuttered Oliver (he always hated it when his daughter was difficult) "It's not a decision for us to make. Cardinal Tritheim will call a conclave to elect a new Hierarch soon enough..."
"The decision doesn't rest in our hands, and I, for one, am grateful," pronounced Pamela. "Now, what you were saying about the sermon this morning, Oliver..."
"Hmm?"
"Fonic particles..."
"Oh, yes. Fascinating topic, really.."
As the conversation wound its way to less controversial territory, Florian reached under the table and patted Anise's clenched hands. She flinched at the touch, but when she looked up and saw his worried face, she relaxed and squeezed back. Florian smiled in relief and turned back to his beans; he had a number of techniques for making them disappear realistically without them ever reaching his mouth. Several forkfuls had accidentally fallen off the table during the argument, and if all else failed, he could always hide them in his pocket for easy disposal later. The only real problem with that last was the laundry department, who were already tired of finding odd stains on Young Master Florian's clothes. The electric crackle in the air that seemed to surround raised voices bothered him, and he would avoid it if he could, seeking shelter in some peaceful corridor.
At any rate, there were several beans that still needed some finessing, and Florian had disappeared a few of them - rather elegantly, he thought; why didn't anyone notice his skill? - when Pamela apparently decided that enough time had elapsed for their family gathering, and started to collect the plates. (The fact that several novices were set to clean-up duty in the cafeteria always eluded her, somehow.) The adults cleared the table, and Anise stole a quick hug from Florian while her parents' backs were turned. She then bowed a little ungracefully to Pamela and Oliver, who made the ceremonial greeting in return, and made to leave.
"Anise," Pamela began, a little hesitantly. She was startled when Anise turned around - since when had her daughter been this tall? And that dark something that had settled into her eyes lately, she was sure that hadn't always been there either...
Anise shifted a little.
"Ahem, yes... Leave the next Hierarch to Master Tritheim and start trying to follow the rules a little bit. Soon enough your father will find you a nice young man, and you can settle down in the Cathedral, like we did. You always wanted to get married, didn't you?"
"I know you're still unhappy about Master Ion," Oliver said. "And we can surely understand that. You were his Guardian for two years, after all. But that was over a year ago, and it was written in the Score. No one could have changed it..."
Anise felt, dimly, some sort of complicated explosion going on inside her head, and she had to struggle to find words in the smoke. When she was younger, she would have simply run off crying; but after Eldrant, she had sworn to change, and she was damned if she was going to burst into tears in front of all the pimply novices in the hall. Eavesdropping on other people's business and grinning, the bastards.
"You and Mother aren't allowed to talk about Ion," Anise whispered. "Be quiet."
"Anise, that's no way to speak to your father-"
"I killed him because of you!" Anise said bitterly. "Because you were stupid enough to fall into Mosse's trap and land in enough debt to enslave me for the rest of my life, I had to... Ion is-! I was his Guardian, and he trusted me, and with my own hands I betrayed him! And then you call Mosse a great man and say he should have been Hierarch?! And Lady Arietta and Master Dist? Mother, Arietta almost killed you! And 'Master' Dist turned Mosse into a horrible monster on purpose, just to see what would happen, and when we killed Mosse he started to melt but was still going on about the Score like a stupid broken record-"
"Anise, get a hold of yourself!" exclaimed Pamela, as Oliver flapped his hands in mute alarm. "I know you're still upset but-"
"And you gibbering monkeys can shut up, too!" shouted Anise through her tears, whirling on the crowd of kitchen staff who had come to watch the show. "You think this is funny?! Any one of you man enough to face me, huh? I swear to Yuria I'll kill the first one who laughs!"
The audience quickly occupied itself with investigating the nearest tables for stains. Anise snorted. "Yeah, and your food sucks!" she hollered at the retreating cooks. "Next one who dares serve leftovers to Florian, I'll kick his ass, you hear me?!"
She turned back to her family, seemingly calm in spite of the tears on her face. Ignoring her parents, who were paralyzed with confusion, she knelt and hugged Florian. "I swear I'll protect you," Anise whispered. "You know I will. I won't let them use you for their damn Score-"
"I know," Florian said quietly. "I trust you. You're my best friend, Anise."
Anise made a sound somewhere between a hiccough and a sob, and straightened up. "I have to go talk to Tritheim again," she told her parents. "See you in the evening."
"Are you alright?" Oliver asked softly, holding on to Pamela's shoulder. Anise looked at him, startled, and gave him a twisted half-smile. "I'm alright. Don't worry, I'll never lose. You'll see me in a Hierarch's robes someday," she added.
"If anyone could do it, it's you," Pamela said. "But darling, we're so worried about you..."
Anise's grin briefly turned itself into a grimace, but she fought it into something resembling a smile, bowed, and took off. Unnoticed, Florian lifted his hand into a salute as she left.
I've translated 'doushi' as 'hierarch' ('Pope Ion' sounds kind of bleh to me), 'daieishi' as 'cardinal', and 'eishi' as 'bishop'. If bishops are actually higher-ranked than cardinals, I apologize. I'm Jewish and not too familiar with Catholic terminology. :P
Part 2
Lunch in the cathedral was a rather disorganised affair; it was served pretty much all day long, and the times people ate depended more on their shifts or personal preference than some strict schedule. But if you were clever, and had lived in the complex long enough, you learned when the good cooks went on duty and when it was better to starve. Anise had often made use of her charm to get her hands on decent food for first her parents, who were so absentminded they would eat the pot scrapings and then compliment the cook, and then Ion, who couldn't handle rich food but was too shy to object when some lavish new invention was set before him.
Pamela's choice of a time to eat had little to do with Anise's calculations, and more to do with taking another child another her wing and wanting to bring it up right. She had never understood where her daughter's ferocity had come from, being herself pleasant and even-tempered and most of the time lost in thought, and she wanted to make sure that the sainted Ion's replica didn't grow up as wild. Orderly mealtimes and constant lessons were a part of that. Unfortunately, as Anise and Florian had noted to themselves, the best food and the best times did not coincide. Florian practiced his blinding smile on the cooks, and Pamela and Oliver noticed that the food tasted better, but did not connect the two. As for Anise, she encouraged her young disciple in the art of scamming, but was occasionally alarmed at his rapid progress. She was sure she herself had never been that shameless.
After rigorously checking Florian's hands for dirt, Pamela voted him clean enough to be acceptable, and allowed the two to sit down. "Now, what do we do?" she asked sternly, keen never to miss an opportunity for a useful and moral lesson.
"We say the prayer before eating," answered Florian, dutifully.
"Good! Oliver, will you lead us? Oliver-" Pamela turned to her husband, who was looking off into the distance and sketching out his thoughts with his fingers in the empty air. Cardinal Tritheim's sermon this morning had been very interesting, especially when you compared the text in that book he'd been reading-
Pamela coughed, meaningfully.
Startled, Oliver looked up at his wife, and then around to his daughter and the deceased Hierarch's double, and blinked. He then looked at the food, and his eyebrows rose. "Oh! Oh yes, excuse me. I was just thinking about what the Cardinal said this morning, you remember, Anise, about the spiritual function of Fone particles-"
"Yes, I heard it, but now it's lunchtime," his daughter said, with a trace of irritation in her voice. Oh Ion, why did her parents have to be so stupid all the time?
"It's all right," Florian said soothingly. "But I played all morning and now I'm a bit hungry~" his voice rising to a whine at the end. Anise mentally gave him a nine out of ten for the "small child who's been good all morning" act, and watched its effect on her parents with appreciation. As Pamela scrambled to ladle some food into 'the poor boy's plate', Florian turned to Anise and tilted his head.
The question was clear. Anise held up nine fingers, and Florian beamed.
After serving everyone and eating a little herself, Pamela turned to Anise. "How have your studies been going, Anise? You've been so busy lately that we hardly see you anymore."
"Fine," said Anise, her voice a bit muffled by the food. She swallowed and continued. "I've been doing the early history of the Lorelai Order. The founding of Oracle, that kind of stuff." It was interesting how much of the traditions Anise considered part and parcel of the church had actually appeared decades if not centuries later, she reflected.
"Really?" asked Oliver, interested. "I thought you were reading the records of the Score from previous eras."
"That too."
"My!" exclaimed Pamela. "You've become so diligent, I can't recognize my own daughter anymore. Florian, more vegetables? They're good for you."
"I told you, I'm going to be the next Hierarch," Anise said, matter-of-factly, and speared another piece of chicken with her fork. "So I need to know this kind of thing."
Pamela and Oliver exchanged a long look that was only interrupted when Florian tugged on his plate. Pamela blinked, looked at the second helping of vegetables she'd been in the middle of serving him, and filled it up before passing it back. Florian looked with resignation at all the green stuff littering it, and after it stubbornly refused to turn into something more exciting than beans, sighed and poked his fork in.
"...Anise," began Oliver, slowly. "You know we've talked to you about this before, and we do appreciate all the work you've been doing.."
"Thank you," said Anise, drily, and waited for the 'but'.
A bit sidetracked by the flat tone in his daughter's voice, Oliver started over again. "It's wonderful that you're studying so hard, and we're both very proud of you, but we do think that your youthful enthusiasm might be, ehem, misdirected in this case.."
Gotcha, thought Anise.
Pamela took up her husband's thread. "Whoever is selected for the position of new Hierarch - not that we can think of Daath without Lord Ion, the poor soul - will be a venerable man, a pillar of the church. Certainly no one of rank less than Cardinal. Like Master Tritheim, for example..."
"Or Elder Theodoro," interjected Oliver, relieved to turn the subject to something less inflammatory.
"Weeeeell, it's true he has the experience," said Pamela, waving her hand back and forth in polite disagreement, "But I think someone like Cardinal Mosse would have been best, if he hadn't passed away."
Anise choked. "Mosse? Mosse?! Mother, are you out of your mind?"
"Anise, don't be rude! Mosse was a great man, he helped your father and I so much. He even took you under his wing, even though I can't understand why when you talk like that. - Florian, don't push your beans around your plate, it's a waste of good food."
"Yes, Pamela," Florian said. Anise took advantage of the brief lull in the conversation to forcibly calm herself down, while Pamela put another piece of chicken on her husband's plate.
"Very good food," agreed Oliver. "We should go over and thank the cooks later-"
"There have been Hierarchs of only Bishop rank before," Anise interrupted. "At least twice by ND 500, and more after. And if Dist or Emoretta could be Bishops, I could be one too. I'm already a Fone Master Guardian, you know that."
Pamela looked scandalized. "Still with that nickname for that poor child... Don't you have any respect for the dead?!" she scolded. "And Master Dist and Lady Arietta were both Bishops because of their rank as Generals in Oracle, it's not the same thing..."
"I also have a rank in Oracle..."
"What upsets me," Oliver said, slowly, "Is the idea that you've been studying less out of love for knowledge or for Mother Yuria, and more to achieve this rank..."
"That's exactly why I've been studying. So what?" Anise asked, indifferently.
"A true elder of the church is not selected because of his ambition. Ideally, it should be a surprise..." Oliver began.
"And that has happened exactly how many times?" muttered Anise, to her rice. Florian turned towards her and frowned.
"Pardon?" inquired Pamela, with a bit of an edge to her voice.
"Nothing."
"A-anyway," stuttered Oliver (he always hated it when his daughter was difficult) "It's not a decision for us to make. Cardinal Tritheim will call a conclave to elect a new Hierarch soon enough..."
"The decision doesn't rest in our hands, and I, for one, am grateful," pronounced Pamela. "Now, what you were saying about the sermon this morning, Oliver..."
"Hmm?"
"Fonic particles..."
"Oh, yes. Fascinating topic, really.."
As the conversation wound its way to less controversial territory, Florian reached under the table and patted Anise's clenched hands. She flinched at the touch, but when she looked up and saw his worried face, she relaxed and squeezed back. Florian smiled in relief and turned back to his beans; he had a number of techniques for making them disappear realistically without them ever reaching his mouth. Several forkfuls had accidentally fallen off the table during the argument, and if all else failed, he could always hide them in his pocket for easy disposal later. The only real problem with that last was the laundry department, who were already tired of finding odd stains on Young Master Florian's clothes. The electric crackle in the air that seemed to surround raised voices bothered him, and he would avoid it if he could, seeking shelter in some peaceful corridor.
At any rate, there were several beans that still needed some finessing, and Florian had disappeared a few of them - rather elegantly, he thought; why didn't anyone notice his skill? - when Pamela apparently decided that enough time had elapsed for their family gathering, and started to collect the plates. (The fact that several novices were set to clean-up duty in the cafeteria always eluded her, somehow.) The adults cleared the table, and Anise stole a quick hug from Florian while her parents' backs were turned. She then bowed a little ungracefully to Pamela and Oliver, who made the ceremonial greeting in return, and made to leave.
"Anise," Pamela began, a little hesitantly. She was startled when Anise turned around - since when had her daughter been this tall? And that dark something that had settled into her eyes lately, she was sure that hadn't always been there either...
Anise shifted a little.
"Ahem, yes... Leave the next Hierarch to Master Tritheim and start trying to follow the rules a little bit. Soon enough your father will find you a nice young man, and you can settle down in the Cathedral, like we did. You always wanted to get married, didn't you?"
"I know you're still unhappy about Master Ion," Oliver said. "And we can surely understand that. You were his Guardian for two years, after all. But that was over a year ago, and it was written in the Score. No one could have changed it..."
Anise felt, dimly, some sort of complicated explosion going on inside her head, and she had to struggle to find words in the smoke. When she was younger, she would have simply run off crying; but after Eldrant, she had sworn to change, and she was damned if she was going to burst into tears in front of all the pimply novices in the hall. Eavesdropping on other people's business and grinning, the bastards.
"You and Mother aren't allowed to talk about Ion," Anise whispered. "Be quiet."
"Anise, that's no way to speak to your father-"
"I killed him because of you!" Anise said bitterly. "Because you were stupid enough to fall into Mosse's trap and land in enough debt to enslave me for the rest of my life, I had to... Ion is-! I was his Guardian, and he trusted me, and with my own hands I betrayed him! And then you call Mosse a great man and say he should have been Hierarch?! And Lady Arietta and Master Dist? Mother, Arietta almost killed you! And 'Master' Dist turned Mosse into a horrible monster on purpose, just to see what would happen, and when we killed Mosse he started to melt but was still going on about the Score like a stupid broken record-"
"Anise, get a hold of yourself!" exclaimed Pamela, as Oliver flapped his hands in mute alarm. "I know you're still upset but-"
"And you gibbering monkeys can shut up, too!" shouted Anise through her tears, whirling on the crowd of kitchen staff who had come to watch the show. "You think this is funny?! Any one of you man enough to face me, huh? I swear to Yuria I'll kill the first one who laughs!"
The audience quickly occupied itself with investigating the nearest tables for stains. Anise snorted. "Yeah, and your food sucks!" she hollered at the retreating cooks. "Next one who dares serve leftovers to Florian, I'll kick his ass, you hear me?!"
She turned back to her family, seemingly calm in spite of the tears on her face. Ignoring her parents, who were paralyzed with confusion, she knelt and hugged Florian. "I swear I'll protect you," Anise whispered. "You know I will. I won't let them use you for their damn Score-"
"I know," Florian said quietly. "I trust you. You're my best friend, Anise."
Anise made a sound somewhere between a hiccough and a sob, and straightened up. "I have to go talk to Tritheim again," she told her parents. "See you in the evening."
"Are you alright?" Oliver asked softly, holding on to Pamela's shoulder. Anise looked at him, startled, and gave him a twisted half-smile. "I'm alright. Don't worry, I'll never lose. You'll see me in a Hierarch's robes someday," she added.
"If anyone could do it, it's you," Pamela said. "But darling, we're so worried about you..."
Anise's grin briefly turned itself into a grimace, but she fought it into something resembling a smile, bowed, and took off. Unnoticed, Florian lifted his hand into a salute as she left.