II. The Lost Crown

It would be unwise to ignore the requests of a king, you know this. You pick your sword again and hook it at your waist, resigning yourself to further service.

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," Esmeralda says encouragingly. "It can't be that important if he isn't sending his Fraccion, and if it's not that important it can't be too dangerous."

You smile weakly and give her a nod, although you're not sure how accurate her reassurance is. You pick up your coat again and walk up to the window, looking down at the sand below…

...you'll try this some other day. You wisely opt to take the stairs, waving a goodbye to Esmeralda which she returns.

"Stay safe!"

Barragan's hall is built to inspire awe.

It harkens to the night of Hueco Mundo, lost when the invaders ordered a dome built over Las Noches. Great walls of black stone rise around you, so far apart as to make every corridor seem like a hall of its own. In the ceiling, diamond-shaped holes stream in faint sunlight, creating the illusion of stars.

Your steps reverberate across the stone corridor, and are met with echoing sounds. From the dark ahead comes a tall and slender man, blond hair flowing past his shoulders. Almost his entire face is covered by his mask, even his eyes featureless yellow glows; only his mouth and cheeks show. In this perhaps you could feel kinship; Arrancars with almost-intact masks are often seen as incomplete, imperfect, and this is something you both share.

But he is Findor, and nobody likes Findor.

"The King will see you now," he says with a curt nod, then turns his back and motions for you to follow him.

The closer you get to the center of the building, the faster your heart beats. Your shoulders tremble slightly as you feel the waxing tide of a godlike reiatsu, one of the strongest you've ever felt.

Findor pushes open two great doors and you enter the room that could have been called a throne room, if Barragan still ruled. The pressure is most intense here, a grasping sensation on your bones, a push on your shoulders, whispering to you - 'Kneel.' At the far wall stands a stone chair, blocky and featureless, and in that chair an old man, brown skin weathered by the pretense of age, thick white moustache and eyebrows dominating his sharp-angled face. The man rests on his elbow, a picture of ennui, and as you come in he barely grants you a look.

Findor kneels in front of his master, and you quickly do the same.

"Majesty, you ordered for the first Arrancar to come back to Las Noches to be brought before you. She is here to await your orders."

Barragan furrows his eyebrows, looking you over, and you feel the pressure of his power intensifies as he gauges you - and then recede as he deems you of too little note to bother cowing.

"Such a trifle you are," he says, his voice old and deep. "A moth? More like a mayfly. I do not remember ever seeing you before."

He has, several times in fact, but you think it careful not to mention this aloud.

"Did you ever come to Las Noches? Before this, I mean, when the skies were my roof?"

You did, a few times. You never enjoyed it much; the presence of the King of Hueco Mundo was overbearing, his intent malignant, his servants fanatical. You didn't long. These were days of captivity in freedom: you had the sky to yourself, then, you were great and fast, a weightless winged thing of shadows and carapace, but a prisoner to your own hunger, to the fear of falling back. When you came to Barragan's court and mingled with his servants, you feared what you saw, and feared what you might become if you stayed too long.

"You saw its glory, then," the old man pursues. "But this is not the Las Noches of old, and there is a lord above me now. Aizen may rule over Hollows, but he is a shinigami at heart. He believes a palace should have a roof, and a sky a sun. For all his power there are things he does not comprehend. About our world, about our nature. He is a conquering king, a stranger in his new realm."

You shudder slightly to hear such talk. You are well-familiar with the fears of the low-ranking Arrancars, who believe that lord Aizen hears and sees everything within his fortress; that to talk ill of him in his absence is foolishness or suicide. But an Arrancar of Barragan's power has little care for such fears.

"And if you came to Las Noches when it still deserved this name, you must have seen me then. The power and glory of my natural form."

The crowned skull; the black regalia; the ruler of time, all names for one terrible being. Your hands clutch, fingers grasping at the stone ground beneath you. Memories of a Hollow's punishment, of the weight of millenia passing in a blink, of flesh turned to dust...

"You will perform a task for me, mayfly," Barragan says, straightening his posture. Besides you Findor tenses, his posture tinged with anger. "I had a crown in those days. Not the gracile thing that adorns my brow when I assume my full power today; not a part of me, but a work of art, a tall golden headpiece offered by a faithful servant. When Aizen conquered Las Noches it was lost; some treacherous inferior saw it fall from my head, and absconded with it."

"The crown is a… Memory," Barragan says, measuring his words. "It holds no power, and it is no longer a symbol of kingship, for Aizen rules and he desires no crown. Yet it is valuable to me. Over the years I have heard word of it appearing in some place or another, traded or stolen, and sent my Fraccions to investigate each time, but it was always gone again by the time they arrived. I have grown tired of sending my best servants only to fail again and again, and besides most of them are tending to more urgent tasks anyway."

The yellow glow of Findor's eyes brightens, for one heartbeat, so brief you wonder if you had not imagined it.

"I now hear the crown has appeared again, and I still desire it, but it is a task more deserving of a mayfly like you. Findor will tell you where to go; you will do everything in your power to retrieve my crown. Failure will be met with punishment. Do you understand?"

You swallow nervously and bow your head lower.

"Good. Now begone, mayfly."

You stand up, shaking slightly, and bow again before departing from the room. Findor follows you; you envy the ease with which he moves through his master's aura, the pressure making the air thick as molasses to you. Can a mere Fraccion truly be that much stronger than you, or is it simply force of habit that allows him to endure this power unflinchingly?

You've heard rumors among other low-ranking Arrancars that the constant proximity to the immense reiatsu of the Espada changes a Hollow, coaxes out their own power, and that this makes Fraccions stronger than Numeros. You doubt it. It seems more likely to you that the Espada simply pick powerful Arrancars as Fraccions in the first place.

"There is a village five days to the northeast," Findor says, locking steps with you. "Sitting by a small oasis, not far from a leafless grove. It was wiped out a few days ago. A few survivors came wandering here, hoping for safety in Las Noches. They were weak, and were cast out. It was only afterwards that we Royal Fraccions heard what they'd said: that the Hollows that had come as an army to raze their settlement were led by a Menos with a golden crown, tall and four-sided. We brought news to our king, but as you heard, it is not the first time this happens, and he has grown tired of failure. He sends you because you're unimportant, and if you fail, as you will, may be punished without losing a valuable subordinate."

The bluntness of the speech halts your steps. Findor eyes you, his mask making it impossible to read his features.

"We are the Fraccions of King Barragan. Where everyone else has forgotten his rightful title, we remember. We stand by his throne. We carry his axe. Do not think that an outsider like yourself, a weak opportunist, may rise to our ranks for a service rendered. There is no loyalty in your heart."

Or perhaps they are just holding on to bygone titles of an era when they still had relevance. Barragan is no longer the King of Hollows, and they seem a little foolish holding onto that claim. You don't tell Findor that, though.

"I have given you directions, and the King has given you orders. I am not required to assist you any further. Go, look for clues of the crown's whereabouts in the ashes of a ruined village, fail as we did before, come back and meet your fate. Goodbye," he says, and turns sharply on his heels, not giving you time for a question or a retort.

You look away from him, at the sunlit sands of Las Noches. You scratch one horn, thinking.

There isn't much to delay you in the fortress, when you think of it.

[ ]Make a detour by Esmeralda's "office" before setting out. She always has her hands on some interesting supplies, and could provide you with useful items for your trip.
[X]Hurry back to the gate, where if you're quick enough you can catch the spider-hollow before it gets too far. Riding it, you'll get to your destination much faster (and hopefully back faster as well).

It's a long trek to the destroyed village. You'll have time to think about your meeting with Barragan and the situation of Aizen's army. In particular, you will consider your thoughts on the rulership of Hueco Mundo. What are you? Feel free to write in a more elaborate take on any of these, or your own.

[X]Indifferent. The powerful of this world are more akin to passing storms than persons. Whoever rules, rules, and small fries like you simply have to try and make a living under them. The personal character of different rulers do not make them better or worse, but simply different flavors of hurricanes.
[ ]Faithful. Aizen freed you from the hunger, and for this you will forever be grateful. Not only do you owe him loyalty, he's also proven himself to be infinitely resourceful and clever, and the best chance for Hollows like you is under his direction.
[ ]Callous. Might makes right in a dog-eat-dog world. The Espada and Aizen got where they are by being stronger, and even if you can't match them, it's up to you to get as strong as you can be to survive and lord over others.
[ ]Bitter. All your life, you feared to set foot in the mortal world where the shinigami roamed. They have killed your kind for millennia, and now one of them rules over your world. You might not have been devoted to Barragan's rule, but there is something deeply wrong with a shinigami commanding Hollows.

To say that there is bad blood between you and Barragan Luisenbarn would be inaccurate for the simple reason that the gulf of power and authority between you precludes any kind of relationship. You are an ant to him. But ants are known for their stinging bite, and you hold a grudge against the deposed king. Why?

[X]You had a friend once, a rarity among Menos. Someone you trusted not to try and eat you and who returned that trust. Then one day, he crossed the wrong line. He offended Barragan somehow, and you saw him aged to dust before your eyes.
[ ]You did in fact serve under Barragan. For years you were a scout in his army. You left because you feared the devotion of the others. You never expected him to think well of you, but he doesn't even remember your name or your mask, and that stings.
[ ]You were once part of an organized settlement, Hollows foolish enough to think the desert was large enough for them to live independently. One day Barragan heard of you, and the next his armies were swarming your village. You've been a nomad ever since.
[ ]Write-in.