Trinity Blood: War Continuum

by smcandy

Taking place one month after the anime's finale from Ep. 24 with additional materials from the manga. A/E main pairing to semi major love triangle or more with one-sided love.

17. Thirteen: Settle Down

dragonwriter24cmf AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, yes, this is one really LONG chapter. We I wanted to set up relations with Cain and Esther and RCO, really bad. We also wanted to get Petros and Seth interacting with each other, and cement the partnership between Abel and Petros, cause he needs it. So there was just so much going on…hope you enjoy it.

(AN) AUTHOR'S NOTES: Also things are gonna get really M rated and kinky from this chapter onwards you've all been waned guys so if you do not like I suggest you skip or do not read this chapter if it bothers you in any way. Special thanks to my editor and co-partner dragonwriter24cmf in helping get this chapter done. Yes it took a little longer then excepted so sorry for the late upload. I received this chapter one to two day earlier but did no have time to upload it until now.

DISCLAIMER:All rights to Trinity Blood was created and © by late Yoshida Sunao, the anime directed by Tomohiro Hirata and produced by the studio GONZO, as well as a manga drawn by Yoshida Sunao's friend Kiyo Kyoujou. All © rights revered by their respective owners. I own nothing except © to this story, it's plot and it's OC's that will eventually show within later chapters.

Warning:This fan fiction is rated (M) AKA Lemon. This story is ABSOULTLY NOT suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 [So if you're under the age limit turn back now, come back when you old enough to read this. I'd rather not get flamed nor sued by parents whom are just looking for trouble in places their underage children should not be looking nor reading for that matter. This story contains strong explicit adult themes and sexual ones such slight foreplay - as in hand sex, one-sided yuri, bisexuality, Attempted Rape, Explicit Sex or anything else mild to hard core kinky for that matter!, references to violence, and strong coarse language. If this disturbs you, do not read any further.

Trinity Blood: War Continuum - Chapter Thirteen - Settle Down

Esther woke with a start to find herself in bed. She blinked, then turned her head, gazing at her surroundings.

The furnishings of her room in the Order compound glittered back at her in the muted light of a wall lamp. Esther repressed a shudder. She'd been hoping it was a dream, but it seemed her predicament was all too real.

Suddenly, she couldn't lay still. She sat up, then moved to the edge of the bed, only then noticing she'd been dressed in a clean pale blue nightgown, and that a thick robe of the same shade hung next to her bed. She stared down at the pleated, ruffled garment in bewilderment, then turned her head to stare across the room at the couch. The last thing I remember is falling on that couch. But then…how did I wind up like this? Who…who changed my clothing? She shivered, overcome by a mental image of Dietrich or Isaac coming in and changing her clothing.

"You're awake. Do you need anything, Mistress?" The monotone voice startled Esther out of her thoughts.

A small slender figure in a feminine order uniform stood there, light glinting off her short purple hair and the hilt of her sword. After a moment, Esther felt herself relax. Of course. That's the doll that was assigned to be my guard and servant. "Sieglind?"

"Affirmative, Mistress. Have you an order for me?"

"Ah, no." Esther shivered again and wrapped the robe around her shoulders. "Did you…were you the one who put me to bed?" The blank emotionless eyes of the Doll still un-nerved her, but it was better than Dietrich or von Kampfer.

"Affirmative." The doll contemplated her a moment. "You are awake. I will fetch breakfast for you. Have you a preference?"

The mere thought of food made Esther's stomach twitch, and she shook her head. "No, I'm not really hungry."

"My Lord has ordered that you take regular meals. I will bring you breakfast." The doll turned and vanished out the door, and Esther heard the locks click into place.

Esther sat on her bed, trying to fight off the numb despair that held her. Her feelings of the night before washed over her. She was a prisoner, held captive by the Order. Even though Sieglind looked relatively harmless, Esther knew the Doll had been appointed as a guard. And if she was anything like Tres, she'd be virtually unstoppable. Worse, even if she could somehow get past her guards, she had no idea where she was, or even what country she was in. And she had no money. There was no way for her to return to Albion.

Esther bit her lip. I can't think this way. Virgil and Colonel Spencer will be looking for me, and I'm sure Seth and Lady Caterina won't abandon me either. But…even so, I can't simply sit around and do nothing. I have to try and find a way out of here! She considered. For now, I'll simply see if I can gather information. I'll look for my opportunities. Until I find a way, I'll simply have to put up with things. But I refuse to sit here and accept my fate quietly!

The click of the door alerted her to Sieglind's return. The Doll pushed the door open, then closed it behind her. She moved with mechanical precision to the table, and began laying things out. Once she'd finished setting it, she turned to Esther. "Mistress, you should eat."

"Yes, I will. Thank you." Esther moved forward and settled into the chair Sieglind held out for her. The thought of trusting food from the Order made her slightly queasy. She swallowed hard, looking at the food before her. I have to eat. Dietrich was right. If I don't maintain my strength, I won't be able to do anything.

"Do you find the food unsatisfactory?" Sieglind's bland voice came from behind her shoulder.

"No. Not at all. I was just thinking." Before the Doll could ask any more questions, Esther took some fruit and bread from the central platter and placed it on her plate. She started to reach for the pitcher of juice, but Sieglind got there before she did. The silent figure poured her a cup, set it within easy reach, then moved back out of Esther's way. Her quiet, smooth movement was disconcerting, but Esther knew it was pointless to worry about it. Instead, she concentrated on her breakfast.

The food was well made, and the fruit was excellent. Despite her fears, Esther almost enjoyed it. If it hadn't been for her surroundings, and the silent watchful figure beside her, she would almost have believed she was eating in her room in Buckingham Palace.

The thought brought a lump to her throat. She paused for a moment, then took a final drink of juice and set the glass back on the table.

"Are you finished?" The Doll appeared next to her chair, holding a clean napkin.

"I am." Esther nodded. She was familiar enough with court protocol to take the napkin and wipe her hands and face.

"I will prepare a bath for you." Sieglind took the napkin as she finished.

"Oh…I…" Esther hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."

A few minutes later, the Doll was back. "Your bath is ready, Mistress. I suggest you make use of it while I clear away the dishes."

The words were spoken respectfully enough, but the tone sent warning chills down Esther's spine. She shivered, then rose and went into the bathing chamber, relieved to be able to shut the doors and leave that disturbing presence outside for a moment.

The bath was warm, wonderfully relaxing. Esther settled into it gratefully, allowing it to soothe her tensed muscles. She considered. After she bathed, perhaps she could go look about the place. Sieglind would probably come with her but still, if she could begin mapping the interior of the building, or pass some windows to get a sense of the outside, then she could begin to plan things.

When she emerged from her bath, Sielgind was waiting by her dressing table, a long gown draped over the bed. "Mistress, I have your outfit ready."

Esther blinked at the simple pink dress. "I…"

"Master suggested this one for today." Sieglind held out some garments. "I will help you put it on."

Esther thought about protesting, but she knew it would do no good, so she simply bowed her head and began to pull on the offered clothing. Sieglind's touch was rough and impersonal, but not unprofessional. Every move was precise and neat. By the time she was done, Esther was dressed neatly in the outfit, and not a fold was out of place. Despite her dislike of the Killing Doll's silent presence, she had to admit that even her own maids couldn't have done better. She nodded, the turned and headed toward the door.

Instantly, the Doll was between her and her goal. "Where are you going?"

"Oh…well I wanted to see some more of this place." Esther stared at her.

"Master's orders did not include that privilege. You will remain here." Sieglind blocked her way.

"You can't be serious. Surely you don't intend to keep me locked away in these rooms all the time." Esther clenched her hands in her skirt.

"Master's orders were clear. You are to remain here. There will be no chance of permitting you to escape." Sieglind's hand rose to the hilt of her sword. "If necessary, I will use force."

Esther bit her lip. She'd hoped to be able to at least look around, but there was no way she could possibly defeat the figure before her. "All right. I'll stay here." She stepped back, then looked at the doll again. Sieglind had lowered her hand, and resumed her pose of waiting. "Is there any way that I can be permitted to at least walk around a little?"

"If Master orders it." Sieglind's face was utterly blank.

"I see." Esther sighed, then moved to one of the shelves and took a book down. She opened it, but her mind wasn't on the text. So, I won't even be able to walk around this place until one of the men in the Order allows me? But then, they'll know that I'm moving. What am I supposed to do now? Her jaw clenched in frustration. If Abel were here, he'd have some plan for getting around the situation. But he isn't. And now, she wasn't sure what to do. What can I do now?

Petros sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to control his frustrations. With a growl, he turned his attention back to the reports in front of him.

Three days ago, he'd gone to speak with Cardinal Sforza. True to Abel's word, she'd taken him to the Underground Catacombs, and to the ship that lay hidden in the chamber there. He had to admire the vessel. It was elegant, streamlined. Examination revealed a craft capable of bearing up to six people, with both low orbit and regular flight capability. He'd gotten the images of the burn-off from Father Tres, and matched it to the vehicle. But in the days he'd spent searching for the vessel on satellite images and through information networks, so far he had nothing. There was no trace of the damn thing on any of the Vatican satellites. Nor had Father Tres located anything from the Albion images.

Petros growled again, and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't used to feeling helpless, or to finding nothing. He'd sent word out among the contacts he had in various places, but he'd gotten no response. As annoying as it was, he'd even considered going to Cardinal Antonio Borgias. That man knew people from everywhere, and his media contacts were even more wide-spread than his undercover ones. If anyone could unearth information, he probably could. Petros suppressed a snarl of annoyance. He didn't like Antonio. Indispensable as he sometimes was, he was still a nuisance. And he had an irritating way of treating everyone casually that made Petros want to throw him into a wall to teach him manners.

Petros sighed, then pushed himself upright, glancing at a clock on his wall. He'd been visiting Abel regularly, on the grounds of ongoing Interrogation, but it was more to keep the man calm than it was to get information from him. There was something that was almost frightening in the way the priest had offered himself up to the Inquisition, and the desperation that shadowed his face. Petros repressed a frown of worry. Even more troublesome than Abel was his awareness of Cardinal di Medici's growing restlessness. Francesco hadn't demanded any results yet, but he was concerned. The Cardinal was not known for his patience.

"Petros." Paula was waiting outside his door as he emerged. "I need to speak with you."

"Then speak." Petros continued along the corridor, letting his second fall in beside and just behind him. "Have you found any information?"

"I haven't." Paula frowned. "That isn't the problem. What do you intend to do about Father Nightroad? You know Cardinal di Medici has ordered his Interrogation."

"I am interrogating him." Petros ground the words out. "However, if you're referring to my refusal to use the more violent forms of questioning on him, I thought I explained that." He frowned. "It's simply too much risk to the Vatican."

"And you think Cardinal di Medici will accept that?" Paula's hand touched his shoulder. "Petros…do you truly intend to continue to try and protect that man?"

Petros turned, looking into her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "I do. Do you disagree with my decision, Vice-Chief?"

Paula made a disgruntled noise. "I think you're being reckless, for the sake of one AX priest. However, considering the aid he has already rendered us…I won't oppose you in this. If you truly think it's for the best…"

"I do. At this moment, Father Nightroad is far more valuable as our ally. No matter what he has done."

"Then you'd better hurry." Paula's eyes were dark. "I came to warn you. I overheard Cardinal di Medici instructing some of his men to go 'check' on the Father."

"Damn!" Petros turned. He'd hoped to have a few more days to deal with the situation. "I will attend to the problem. Inform Lady Cardinal Sforza that the situation with Father Nightroad is getting more dangerous. If she wants to save her priest, she'd better act soon."

Paula nodded, and strode down one of the connecting halls. Petros frowned, then set his face in a scowl and quickened his step. He only hoped that he could get there before things got out of hand.

He heard the noise just before he reached the door. The dull thud of metal against flesh, and a muted snarl of angry voices. His scowl deepened. Without any announcement, he placed his key in the lock, turned it sharply, and flung the door open.

Abel was standing chained against the far wall, his arms extended fully outward from his shoulders. The front of his cassock had been torn open, and there was blood on his face and chest. Even across the cell, Petros could see slash marks and dark bruising across the man's abdomen and jaw. One wrist dripped crimson as well, where a sharp movement had evidently caused the manacle to cut into his arm. His face, however, was still as stone. His eyes flickered upward to Petros as he entered, but Abel said nothing.

The three junior inquisitors in the room all turned as the door crashed open, then jerked to attention. One man held a short whip, and another wore heavy metal gauntlets on his hands. The center officer, the man holding no weapons, saluted hastily. "Director!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Petros raked all three men with a glare, causing them to flinch slightly. "I don't recall giving any orders regarding this matter."

"No sir. The Cardinal di Medici…" The senior officer started to speak, but Petros cut him off.

"I see. And so you decided to do this without my approval?" Petros gave the man a glare designed to quell armies.

All three men stiffened. "Well, sir…the Cardinal di Medici ordered us to come and investigate the status of the Interrogation of this man, and to question him."

"And you did so without speaking to me. I am his Interrogator." Petros snarled the words out, then seized the man in an iron grip. "Tell me, did you even think to take proper precautions?"

"Precautions, sir?" All three subordinates paled.

"This man is rumored to possess powers capable of leveling whole buildings. I, personally, have seen him unleash power capable of destroying two Inquisitorial battleships and a tank, without so much as breathing hard." All three men swallowed hard, paling even further. "You're dealing with a man of such violent powers, and you thought mere chains would be enough to allow for a full Interrogation?" He snarled.

"Ah…well, sir…."

"Quiet." Petros frowned, then released the man and turned away. "Did you get anything?"

"Ah…no sir. He wouldn't say a thing."

Petros made a disgusted noise. "So you not only endangered the entire Vatican, but you failed to gain anything by it." He turned his back on them. "Get out of my sight. You may tell Cardinal di Medici that I am handling the matter, and will make a full report later."

"Yes sir. But Director…"

Petros whirled, drawing his staff from it's scabbard on his back and slamming it into the ground in front of him. "Get out now, or I will kill you for your incompetence."

All three men left the cell at a run. Petros listened to their footsteps fade for a moment, then slammed the heavy door shut and locked it. He stood for a few seconds, getting his temper under control, then sheathed his battle spear and turned back to the man chained to the far wall.

Abel remained where he was, but he'd leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Petros saw the dark marks around his neck, where one of the men had evidently seized him and shoved him backward at one point. He moved forward, assessing the damage. There were numerous bruises across Abel's chest, what was visible through his torn robes, and no doubt more where they couldn't be seen. A similar bruise darkened one cheekbone, and his lip was split. His face and body were marked with several light slashing cuts, no doubt the product of the whip the one agent had been carrying. It was standard for a full interrogation, and he'd seen much worse, but Petros frowned. He moved forward until he was standing next to the other man, then spoke softly. "Nightroad."

"Brother Petros." The blue eyes opened, and a faint smile touched his mouth, turning into a wince as the movement tugged at his injured face. "You know, you're probably going to get into trouble for that."

"That's not your concern." He moved a hand towards Abel's wounds, stopping as the other man tensed slightly. "How bad is your condition?"

"Oh, it's not too bad." Abel offered him a quick, ironic grin. "Really." He sighed. "If you're worried that I'm about to lose control, it's all right. I can handle this much. It'll probably heal within a day or so."

"I see. What did they ask you?" Petros frowned.

"They asked about Caterina. I think Cardinal di Medici is hoping I'll say something that will implicate her as a witch. And they asked about Rosenkreutz." His breath hitched for a moment. "They implied that I was working with the Order, trying to spy on the Vatican, and I faked my death in order to gain the trust of His Holiness." His eyes came up to his interrogator's. "I swear, Brother Petros, that isn't true. I…"

"I'm aware of that fact." Petros shook his head. "Did you give them any information?"

"No. I didn't." Abel shuddered and spoke softly. "I promised you…I would endure even this, or worse if I must."

Petros nodded. "I trust you are aware I did NOT authorize this." He leaned against the wall. "Cardinal di Medici is becoming impatient."

That quick, anguished grin came again. "I suspected as much." The blue eyes lifted, to stare at the opposite wall. "I really do appreciate your help Petros, but…you don't have to protect me. If you need to…it's all right if you let them have me."

"Do not be a fool, any more than you already are." Petros straightened from the wall, then turned and roughly seized Abel's torn shirt. "I am a knight of God. I swore an oath, and no matter how troublesome it becomes, I will fulfill my bargain with you. No matter what I think of this situation, I will not let my honor become stained by breaking faith, not unless it is proven that you are a true heretic."

"You don't think I am?" Abel's gaze was almost amused, even with the pain in his face.

Petros flushed, then let him go. "I have my reasons." He became aware of the fresh blood dripping across Abel's chest, where his grip had torn the healing cuts across his body. "This should be tended to."

"Leave it." Abel's voice was soft. "You're probably already in trouble for interfering with the interrogation. If you try and help me now, it will only cause more trouble, now won't it?" There was that faint ghost of pained amusement in his eyes again, and it worried Petros. Unfortunately, the other man also had a valid point

Petros suppressed a growl of frustration, then frowned and leaned back against the wall next to his prisoner. "Very well." He paused, then spoke softly, so only Abel would have a chance of hearing him. "As of yet, I have no information on the disappearance of Lady Esther. None of my agents have turned up anything. We haven't finished sorting through satellite footage yet, but there's been no sign of that ship or anything like it."

Abel sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "I was hoping…but I suppose I really couldn't have expected him to be so careless as that." He closed his eyes, considering. "Do any of the satellites you have control of…do they monitor energy signatures as well as visual?"

"A few. Why?"

"There's an energy pattern you can try looking for. It can be masked, but if they didn't know that…you might see it." Abel sighed. "Have Tres look at the recorded data again, for the following signatures…" He rattled off a brief list of numbers and designations.

It made no sense to Petros, but then, he wasn't a technician. He wrote it down. "Anything else?"

"Not for the satellite footage." Abel sighed.

"In regards to an on-the-ground search, I have considered asking Cardinal Antonio Borgias for help."

"Antonio?" Abel made a face, but then his expression turned thoughtful. "Antonio does have a great number of contacts, worldwide. And he's already proven a certain skill at penetrating enemy organizations." He made a rueful expression. "I can't think why I didn't think of it before. Getting Antonio's help would be a very good idea."

"Very well. Have you any other suggestions or requests at this time?"

Abel sighed. "I really need to see the information, access the computers myself." He offered Petros a tired smile. "But I suppose that's not really possible."

"Not at this time." Petros shook his head.

"Well then, there's a favor I'd like to ask. Please…" Abel swallowed. "Caterina can connect you to the Empire. Contact them. Tell them what's happened here, and start coordinating with them. They may have additional information." He looked away. "Although…I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this little incident."

"Exactly who is it you wish me to speak to in the Empire?" Petros frowned. "Even with this current truce, for an Inquisitor to voluntarily call the Imperial Court…"

"I know. That's why I suggested using Caterina's console." Abel sighed. "Start by trying to reach Astharoshe Asran, Duchess of Kiev, or Lady Mirka Fortuna, the Duchess of Moldova. They have the necessary contacts within the Court, and the ear of the Empress. And Astha, at least, will remember you from Albion." He sighed again, and leaned his head against the wall. "I…well, it's a really personal favor…but if you manage to get through…could you tell them to take a message from me?"

"What message?"

"It's to a girl called Seth. Tell them…tell her…I'm all right. And ask her…" Abel's face was pale, but his voice was firm. "Ask her, to give you information on the RMOC database. They have files there…on the man who is now the Contra Mundi. It's not much, but it will help. You may be able to figure out more about him. Seth can give you that. She told me…while I was there, she told me she managed to infiltrate an Order stronghold. She may be able to help you."

"I see." Petros moved forward. "Why should this girl from the Empire, whom I have never met, give me the information that you refuse to?" He looked in Abel's eyes. "Or do you intend to tell me now, what you know of the Contra Mundi?"

Abel's face twisted. "Please…Petros…I can't. Don't ask me that, not right now. Please." His head bowed, blood dripping from his jaw. "Please."

The agony on his face was enough to make Petros back off. "Very well. But what makes you think this Seth will be more forthcoming?"

"Tell her I said to give you the information." Abel sighed. "It's very difficult to explain, and now really isn't the time, but I promise, she will do it for my sake. And for Esther's sake." He looked Petros in the eyes, and spoke softly. "If she asks, if for some reason she's unwilling to tell you…there's a password between us, one she'll recognize." He bit his lip, and Petros could see the concern in his eyes. He leaned forward, so that Abel could whisper to him. "Tell her…it's a request from Lieutenant Colonel Nightroad. Mars Security." He leaned his head back against the wall once again. "She'll know what you mean."

Petros frowned at him. "I don't understand."

"I know. Seth will tell you, when she releases the information. That's how you'll know it's genuine, and that she's telling you the truth." Abel sighed. "I…I can't tell you more here, Petros." He took a deeper breath, and winced. "I know you probably don't like lying, but if she asks…don't tell her about this. Not that I was…questioned." He smiled faintly. "It probably seems rather silly to you, but it's better if she doesn't know I was injured. If she asks please tell her…tell her I'm all right, and you're watching out for me."

Petros scowled. He didn't like having a mystery on his hands, but he knew why Abel was reluctant to speak. Even as much as he'd already said could be a risk. "Very well." He leaned forward until he was only an inch away from the other man. "But mark my words, Nightroad, you are going to explain if her words are not to my satisfaction. Understood?"

Abel nodded. "Thank you." The words were hardly more than a breath of air. His eyes closed. Petros stood looking at the silent, wounded figure for a few moments more. Then he turned and left the cell, his thoughts troubled.

Caterina was working alone on her reports when he knocked on her door, but she set them aside immediately. "Brother Petros."

"Cardinal Sforza." He entered, then shut the door behind him and moved to stand in front of her desk.

Caterina regarded him with troubled eyes. "I heard from Sister Paula. How bad is it?"

"He's suffered some injury. However, he has maintained his control, and both he and the Inquisitors Cardinal di Medici sent claim he told them nothing."

Caterina sighed. "He's being dangerously stubborn." She folded her hands. "Have you interrogated him at all?"

"I have. I've even questioned him under truth serum." Petros frowned. "Sooner or later, Cardinal di Medici will attack him."

"I know. And you've already jeopardized your position by going to his aid." Caterina sighed. "Well, there's really no help for it. We'll simply have to take things as they come, and pray to survive the worst of it." She stared over her hands. "If I can convince His Holiness to support us…he's already fond of Father Nightroad. But I need something I can give the Papal Council to soothe their fears as well."

"I am aware of that." Petros made a disgruntled noise. "I will do what I can when the time comes. However, we have other concerns."

Caterina raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. What are you referring to?"

"The search for the Queen of Albion. Father Nightroad has given me some additional information." Petros fished the list he'd made out of his pocket. "These are energy signatures he recommended you have Father Tres Iquis look into, from the satellite footage. Also, we've agreed that it may be a good idea to enlist the aid of His Excellency, the Cardinal Borgias."

Caterina frowned. "You want to ask Antonio for help?" She considered a moment, then sighed. "It's true, he does have extensive information networks. Very well, I'll look into it. Anything else?"

"Yes." Petros shifted uncomfortably. "He also suggested that it would be wise for us to get in touch with the Empire, to coordinate our search with them. He advised contacting either the Duchess of Kiev or the Duchess of Moldova for opening collaborations."

"That's true. They will have made it back by now. Did Abel ask you to tell me, or did he suggest that you speak with them yourself?" Petros didn't answer immediately, but she must have seen the discomforted look on his face, because she smiled slightly. "I see. You'll make the contact, under the terms of either looking for more information on him, or checking our allies. I assume you wish to use my communications console?"

"It is the best suited."

"It is indeed. Very well." Caterina tapped a few buttons on her console, activating the long range communications.

It took a few moments for contact to be established. Petros let Caterina handle the initial transfers, after all, she knew who she was trying to contact. Finally, she looked up. "They're connecting us to both the Kiev mansion and the Imperial Palace now." She stood, and shifted slightly out of the way, so Petros could stand in the projection field. He moved forward, feeling unaccountably nervous.

Seconds later, the field shimmered, and two female faces came into view. The first was the woman he recognized from Albion, the girl with the red-streaked hair. The second was a younger looking woman, with delicate features, and a waterfall of blond hair, and bright cinnamon colored eyes that Petros thought looked familiar. He bowed his head. "I am Brother Petros, of the Department of Inquisition in Albion."

"Astharoshe Asran. Deputy Enforcer and Inspector for Her Imperial Majesty." The first woman bowed her head.

"Mirka Fortuna. Head of Her Majesty's Imperial Council." The other dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Lady Caterina mentioned that you wished to speak to us, Inquisitor. Is there something the matter?"

"Not according to the treaty, no. However, I was asked to contact you in regards to our joint efforts to locate the missing Queen of Albion." Petros shifted his weight. He was used to talking to foreign powers, and he had no idea why he felt uncomfortable talking to these two women.

"I see." Mirka's brow furrowed. "I understood there was to be another of Lady Caterina's agents involved in this matter. Was I misinformed?"

Petros shifted again. "You are not. However, Father Nightroad is…occupied with other concerns at the moment." It was the best he could do, and even he could hear the flatness of his words, how hollow they sounded.

Astha spoke up. "Father Nightroad…is he all right? Has he been hurt?" Fierce eyes met his. "Tell me. Is my partner in danger?"

"Not at this time." Petros frowned. Abel was right, he did dislike lying, and he had little talent for it. He settled for the closest version of the truth he could manage. "Father Nightroad is being detained regarding some details on the incident in Albion six months ago. However, I've been keeping an eye on him. He is fine, and asked me to tell you he was well, and to send his regrets at not being able to speak to you at this time."

He could see the shadow of disbelief in her eyes, and he didn't blame her. But she chose not to press it any further. Instead, she offered him a nod. "Thank you." She sighed. "I've begun looking through my information contacts here in the Empire, and in the Outer World, but so far, we haven't seen anything. Wherever they went, it was nowhere near the capital. I'll spend perhaps a day more looking here, but then I intend to leave Byzantium and begin searching the border cities, unless Her Majesty has other orders for me."

"That seems like a wise plan." Mirka spoke softly. "Likewise, the Imperial Council is already moving. We'll be sending out our enforcers and several of our agents within the next two days. In the meantime, we've begun to sift through satellite and other recording devices to see if we can locate any clues." She considered something off the screen for a moment, then returned her gaze to Petros. "Shall I send you the names and descriptions of our agents? You may encounter one of them in the field."

"I would appreciate it." He didn't want his men taking shots at an ally. And much as he'd had reason to distrust Methuselah in the past, he didn't intend to start an unnecessary shooting war himself.

"Very well. You'll have the list within a few hours. Is there anything else we can help you with?"

The three of them discusses search strategies, information networks and data for a few moments. Petros offered them his observations on the vehicle, and what he knew of the Rosenkreutz agents through personal observation. Astha added her own observations and opinions. Mirka said much less, but he could see her making notes, and every now and then, she would voice a suggestion on how to work their individual plans. Petros had a feeling she was being rather restrained with him, but even so, he could tell she had a quick mind, and a definite talent for this kind of thing.

Finally, discussion wound down. They spoke of a few more plans, and then Mirka set aside her notes. "It appears we've done all we can for now, Inquisitor Petros. Perhaps we should disperse for now, and agree to meet again in a few days."

"I agree. However, I do have one more request." Petros shifted, uncomfortable once more. "Father Nightroad asked I speak to a specific individual. Her name is Seth."

Both women looked startled. Mirka raised one eyebrow, Astharoshe looked as if he'd asked permission to steal her family treasures. The strength of the reaction surprised him, and sent a warning shiver down his spine. Obviously, whoever this girl was, there was more to her than simply being a friend of Abel's. Then the moment passed, and Mirka moved, rising from her seat. "I will see if she's available to speak with you." Her gaze shifted. "Duchess of Kiev, perhaps it's best if you return to your duties. I'm sure Brother Petros or the lady will contact you if you are needed."

Astha's eyes were still surprised, but she nodded, then bowed to Petros. "If you'll excuse me." A second later, her image disappeared.

Mirka nodded, then turned her gaze back to Petros. "If you'll excuse me as well." The image turned blank, white with static that marked a connection with no one available to speak. Petros waited, feeling the tension in his back and shoulders. He wanted answers, and the wait was a nuisance to him. To distract himself, he went over strategies and information in his mind, sorting out how best to handle matters. But his mind kept going back to that instant of surprise that he'd seen from both the Methuselah women. More than surprise, really. They'd been shocked. As if he'd asked for something he wasn't even supposed to know they had. Or for a privilege that he wasn't supposed to know could be granted.

Whoever this Seth was, she was obviously an important figure, and not well known. Perhaps a deep cover agent for the Empire. Petros had his own such operatives, and most of Caterina's AX agents operated in that capacity in one form or the other, with varying degrees of success. He knew Abel had done so more than once. It might explain how he knew this woman. But even though the explanation made sense, Petros didn't like it. He had a feeling that there was a piece missing, something he didn't know.

A crackling hiss of static, of the connection becoming live again, drew his attention away from his thoughts. He filed the observations away as the projected image shifted and cleared. Then he saw the image in the projection, and bit back a startled exclamation.

The face was that of a girl, barely more than a child. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old, and he doubted she was even that. Bright green eyes watched him from beneath tousled black hair, cut short. She was slender, but there was something in the way she stood that suggested strength and was used to having power.

The girl let him stare at her for a moment, measuring him up as he did her. Then an amused smile broke across her face. "Well, Inquisitor? Mirka said you wanted to speak to me."

The words shook his attention back to the present. "Yes." He gave her a brief nod of respect. "I am Brother Petros. Father Abel Nightroad asked me to speak with you."

"Brother Petros, huh?" The girl tapped her lips with one finger, looking thoughtful. "I've heard of you, from Cardinal Sforza and Ion." Petros was almost startled to hear her use the young Earl of Memphis's informal name, but he had a feeling that she didn't think twice about it. He shelved the knowledge away. "I've also heard about you from Abel too. They think rather highly of you." She smiled. "Well, then. I'm Seth. It's good to meet you, Brother Petros."

"Indeed. Father Nightroad said you could give me some information regarding the Order of Rosenkreutz."

"Well, he's probably right about that, but tell me something." Concern replaced amusement in her eyes. "Where is Abel? I thought he was going to contact me himself. Has something happened to him?"

Petros shifted his weight. "He was detained, regarding events in Albion six months ago. However, he did ask me to reassure you that he is well."

"Huh. Six months ago…" Her eyes unfocused, and when they met his again, there was worry in them. "I was afraid of that. They're trying to find out more about his death, aren't they?"

Petros nodded. "The Cardinal di Medici is questioning those events. However, I have been keeping an eye on the situation, and on Father Nightroad. He is fine."

"Well, if you say so." She gave him a relieved grin. "I suppose it's all right. Besides, I know Lady Caterina is also keeping an eye on him, and she didn't seem like the type to let him get into too much trouble." She sighed, then settled into a relaxed position. "So tell me, what is it you want to know?"

"Father Nightroad said you informed him that you had infiltrated an Order stronghold."

"I have." Seth nodded. "It was just over a year ago, actually. I haven't shared much of the information, but I can send it to you." She looked away, one hand reaching out, beyond the screen's view. "They've got a lot of lower ranked members, rogue Methuselah and the like working with them. They've also got a number of what they call Death Hunters. You probably saw those in the Albion incidents." She frowned. "I'm afraid I can't give you exact numbers on either of those. What I can tell you…there's one member there who specializes in making Dolls. I think they may be like Cardinal Sforza's agent, Father Tres. At least if what I've heard of him matches up, they'll be very similar. I don't know how many have been made, but they're probably more dangerous than the other two."

"Indeed." Petros had seen Tres in battle, and while he personally would enjoy combating a man of such skill, he had no illusions about the cost of fighting an army of the creatures. "Any others?"

"Yes. There are at least six…perhaps more, core members of the Order. The most dangerous ones. I don't have much information on them. I didn't even see all of them. But the worst will be the ones they call the Wizard, the Puppet Master, and possibly the Ice Witch. I'll send you what I know."

Petros made an annoyed sound. "I am aware of all three individuals you speak of. However, more information is appreciated." He hesitated a moment. "And what of the one they call the Contra Mundi? Their leader."

"The Contra Mundi…" Seth paused. Her voice was softer when she spoke. "Has Abel told you anything?"

"Only that it was the man he fought in Albion. He told me you would be able to give me more information." Petros frowned. "He instructed me to ask you for the files within the RMOC database."

Seth's eyes widened. "Abel…he said for you to look at that?" Dismay, almost fear, filled the green eyes. "He truly…he's agreed to let you see that?"

Petros nodded. "He gave me a password, to give you if you doubt my words."

Seth took a deep breath. "I don't doubt you, Brother Petros, but I'd like it if you'd tell me what Abel said to you. I have to know what he's asking."

"He said to tell you it was a request from Lieutenant Colonel Nightroad, Mars Security. He said you would explain it to me." One fist clenched, out of sight of the projector screen. "I assume you know what he meant by that phrase."

"I do. It's Abel's old rank, from a very long time ago." Seth took another deep breath. "Abel's being reckless, asking to let you see that." She sighed. "He's right. It will tell you more about the Contra Mundi. But…" She shook her head, leaving the thought unfinished. "Well, if that's Abel's decision, and if he's already told you that much…I guess I might as well follow his lead." She reached out again. "I do have a request to make of you in return, Brother Petros."

"What request?"

"I'll send you the file. But I'd like it if you would maintain the connection while you read it. You may have questions, and when you're done with it, there's something I have to ask you. Besides, this information…I'd prefer it if it didn't leave the place you're standing right now."

"I understand. However, this isn't my console."

"It's all right." Caterina spoke from where she'd been sitting at her desk throughout his entire call. "I don't object." She sighed. "It may be expensive, and I've no doubt Brother will insist I treat it as a personal expense, however, this is important. Leave the channel open as long as you need to Brother Petros. That is an order."

"As you command." He turned back to the screen. "Very well. Show me this file."

The girl nodded, and he saw her shoulder shift slightly. Then an image appeared on the monitor console attached to the projection console. He took a chair, settled himself carefully into it so his armor wouldn't damage the Cardinal's furniture, and began to read.

An hour and a half later, he'd finished reading the material. He clenched his teeth, uncertain whether he was furious or horrified by the information he'd just uncovered. He had a feeling that there was more he wasn't seeing, but whether it was because this girl didn't know or because it was being withheld, he didn't know. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. The information he had was enough to start with. The Red Mars Project. The Contra Mundi. Father Nightroad. On the surface of it, what he'd just read was impossible. And yet, he believed it. There was no point in concocting such a story. There were too may details that even he could verify. And the information on Abel…he ground his teeth.

"So then. Now you know." The soft words drew his attention away from the screen, back to the projection of the slender girl. She met his eyes, fear and sadness reflected in her own. "Now you know some of what Abel is hiding. Some of the things he holds in his memories. And you know a little more about who he is." The word was said with such fear and loathing he knew she meant the Contra Mundi, not the priest.

"Indeed. However, you know more, don't you?" He met her eyes with a challenging stare. "This information is helpful, and certainly revealing, but there's still more you haven't told me."

"There is. But some of it is personal to me. I don't know you well enough to tell you those things yet." She gave him a challenging smile. "As for the rest…" She sighed and the smile dropped away. "There is a great deal I haven't given you. But those things…those are Abel's. And even if he gave me permission, I'm not sure I'd tell you that. There are some things that only Abel should tell you. If he hasn't spoken of it yet, then it means he can't. I'm not going to risk him by telling you things he may not be able to handle."

He remembered Abel, kneeling on the floor and shaking from the truth serum in his blood. Remembered the desperate words. 'I…can't talk about him.' The anguish in his eyes. "I see."

"Well then…what will you do?" Seth looked him in the eyes, holding his gaze with her own. "Now that you know about him…what will you do with Abel?"

Petros clenched his jaw shut, considering. What he'd read was more than enough to condemn the man. If Cardinal di Medici saw the information, he would have the AX priest either executed immediately or hauled down to the labs of the lower Vatican and tortured until he broke or died, in ways that even Petros didn't like to think about. His own mind was confused, the knowledge he now possessed warring with what he'd known of the Vatican priest before this. Finally, he shook his head. "I haven't decided yet. I need to think about this."

"I suppose that's fair." Seth sighed. "I need to be getting back to my own work. Is there anything else you need to know?"

"Not at this time." Petros shook his head. Seth nodded, her eyes dark with concern, and a second later, both her image and the words on the desk disappeared. Petros stared at the desk a moment longer, then rose and bowed to the Cardinal. "If you'll excuse me."

"Of course." She nodded gracefully. "If I may ask, what do you intend to do now?"

Petros bit back a growl. "I will continue my efforts to locate the Queen of Albion. As for my dealings with Father Nightroad…" He met her cool stare with a scowl. "I will decide that later, when I've had a chance to review the information Lady Seth has given me." Before she could ask him anything else, he bowed and left.

He was working three days later when a summons arrived from the Church Council. He suppressed a growl of annoyance, then rose from his desk and settled his uniform.

He arrived in the Council Chambers to find the Pope, both Cardinals, and a majority of the church Council waiting for him. Caterina's expression was grave, and Francesco's was furious. Petros strode forward to the dais, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that was making his spine tense. He bowed before the slight figure in the center seat. "Your Holiness. I understand you requested my presence?"

"I…well, yes. That is…there was something Brother wanted to ask you…" The youth hesitated a moment. "I…well, we were wondering…about Father Nightroad. About…what you've found out."

"About Father Nightroad?" Petros looked up.

"Exactly." Cardinal di Medici rose from his seat, his face almost as red as his robes. "Why has there been no report from you on the matter?" He moved forward. "Not only have you failed to report any results from your own interrogation, I received a report three days ago that you deliberately interfered with an interrogation I ordered. Perhaps you'd care to explain that."

Petros bowed his head. "With all due respect, Your Excellency, I felt that the methods your men used were ill-advised. I have seen Father Nightroad in action. If he is pressed too far, his powers may activate. I believe it unwise to use such methods, when there is a risk we could have the Vatican dropped on our heads."

"Then you should have taken the proper precautions in dealing with him." Francesco scowled at him. "Why have you not done so?"

"I do not feel it is necessary." Petros shifted uncomfortably. His mind was whirling with everything he knew of Abel, and he wasn't sure what to say.

"We are dealing with a man who was declared dead! A man who may have sold his allegiance to the Order, at the very least. There is no such thing as being too harsh in this case!" Francesco turned to face the Pope. "Holiness, I ask that you allow me to conduct a full Interrogation of Father Nightroad. If Brother Petros is so concerned about his powers, then we should move him at once and make sure he is unable to act, no matter what must be done!"

Petros flinched, and saw Caterina turn pale. But before he could say anything, Alessandro spoke up. "I don't know. Father Nightroad…he didn't seem like such a bad person. I know…I know you're worried, but he didn't seem to be that dangerous. And he…he doesn't seem like the type to betray someone." Nervous brown eyes came up to meet Petros. "I realize…I don't know him that well, but…Brother Petros…is he really…do you think he'd actually betray us? Or that…that he'd hurt the Vatican?"

Petros stiffened, his mind flashing back to the information he'd learned mere days ago. But as unsettling as that knowledge was, it was a different memory that intruded.

He remembered the man who'd allowed himself to be beaten nearly to death, to avoid using his powers on the Inquisitors. The man who'd fought to protect his charges, even at deaths door. And he remembered the weight of Abel's body in his arms, as he carried the fallen priest from the Underground. It occurred to him that Abel had known what he was going to face, had known more than any of them what the true danger was, and had gone to face it alone. He thought of the man who stood chained in the Vatican cell below, who had placed himself in custody to protect his superior, and had accepted his peril for the slim hope of saving one woman.

"Brother Petros?" The Pope was watching him with concerned eyes.

"My apologies, Holiness. I was merely considering your question." He took a deep breath. "I believe you are correct in your assessment of Father Nightroad. I do not believe he is capable of betrayal. And while I concede he is a dangerous man, I do not think he will turn his power against the church."

"Then what of the matter of the events in Albion?" Francesco's face was crimson with fury.

"I am not sure. While I'm aware he claimed to have faked his death, I am no longer certain that is the case." Petros frowned. "I questioned him under truth serum, and he seems to honestly not remember anything of it."

"Brother…" Caterina rose from her seat, her face white and stern under the lights. "Let it be. However his revival came about, this matter has nothing to do with the events at hand. And we need Father Nightroad's assistance. He's already proven that he knows more about the Order than anyone else within the Vatican. If we are to assist our allies and defeat them once and for all, we need his abilities."

"It is because of his knowledge of the Order that I insist he be kept under guard and questioned." The two Cardinals faced off, and Petros had the sense they were almost oblivious to anyone else. "There is no guarantee that he isn't preparing to betray us even now."

"Then you doubt the words of both his Holiness and your own Knight?" Caterina's cool gaze held her brothers. "That's rather presumptuous of you. Besides, I submit that we do indeed have proof of Father Nightroad's intentions."

"And what proof is that?" It wasn't Cardinal di Medici who spoke, but one of the Arch-bishops sitting along the walls.

"It's been a week since Father Nightroad was detained, and he's made no attempt to escape. If he's truly an Order operative, then that's a very foolish risk to take. But it's more than that." Caterina turned to face her younger brother. "Holiness, this is the second time this man has been detained and questioned while attempting to help the Vatican foil an enemy plot. And I had the report from one of my other agents that he was beaten and tortured then as well. We've already given him all the reason he needs to betray us, and yet…you know what he's done for us. Surely that is proof enough, that he would willingly stay in confinement and accept his interrogation, simply for coming forward to assist us."

Petros saw a few heads nod. Alessandro, brightened. "That…that's right. I hadn't thought of that, but…"

"Holiness!" Francesco's voice snapped out over the room. "Surely you can not consider releasing him!" His voice dropped. "If, as Brother Petros says, he has no true memory of his return in the Albion, there's no telling what may happen!"

Caterina met her brother's gaze. "I'm quite willing to allow him to stay under observations by one of your Inquisitors, Francesco. And if it will make the Council feel more at ease, I shall have one of my personal physicians examine him thoroughly to make sure everything is as it should be."

"Why should it be one of your physicians, Caterina?"

Caterina met her brother's smirk with one of her own. "Because my doctors actually know what they're looking for, in regards to Abel's condition. He's been under observation for years."

"It…it seems fair." Alessandro sat up a little straighter. "I mean, if we keep an eye on him, and he can actually help us…it seems fair to let him go."

"There's no guarantee he can assist us." Francesco scowled.

Petros stepped forward. "With all due respect, Holiness, I must disagree with the Cardinal on that matter. During his questioning, Father Nightroad has several times offered up information to assist us with our search for the Order. While we've been cautious about trusting what he says, it has been helpful."

He thought for a moment that the Cardinal would actually come down off the dais and strike him. But Alessandro sat up straighter. "In that case…Brother, I think it…I think it might be best for us to release him. I mean, we'll still…that is…" The Pope turned his head slightly, to look at Petros. "Brother Petros…I'd like to ask you…if you could continue to watch over him…I'd like it if you would."

Petros bowed his head. "As you wish, Holiness."

"Well, in that case…if there's no further objections…" Alessandro looked around, but none of the Council was opposing him.

"In that case, Holiness, I'd like to see to Father Nightroad's immediate release." Caterina shifted forward. "Time is of the essence, I believe, particularly in regard to the Queen of Albion."

"That is true. Brother Petros…please take Sister with you, and get Father Nightroad."

"Thank you, Holiness." Petros and Caterina both bowed, then turned and strode out of the Council chamber. Caterina waited until they were well out of earshot before she spoke. "You know, you've probably just destroyed your career in the Inquisition." She turned her head, and offered Petros a cool glance. "My brother won't forgive you for going behind his back, nor for protecting Abel."

Petros suppressed a growl. "I did not become God's soldier merely for power. My duty is to serve God and His Holiness in any way I can. If it means irritating the Cardinal, so be it." He looked away from her calculating eyes.

"I see. I'm sure Abel will appreciate it. And for my part…thank you." The Cardinal inclined her head to him. Petros snorted, but made no other response.

A few minutes later, they were at the door to Abel's cell. Petros stuck the key in the lock, feeling a flash of guilt as he did so. He hadn't returned to the room since the communication with the Empire. He frowned, and shook the thought away.

Abel was standing in the same position he'd left him in. His wrists were still stretched to full extension, his cassock still torn. Though the wounds across his body were healed, the eyes he raised were haunted by anguish. "Brother Petros." His voice was hoarse. Then he spotted the slender figure who followed him into the cell. "Lady Caterina."

"Well, Abel. It seems you've gotten yourself into quite a bit of trouble this time." Caterina sighed as she moved over to the chained priest. "Brother is furious about you."

"I know." Abel's voice was quiet. He looked his superior in the eyes. "Caterina…you shouldn't be here. You can't…if they think you're trying to help me…" His face twisted.

"Enough, Abel." Caterina laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know. However, His Holiness ordered your release not ten minutes ago, and I received his permission to come and free you myself."

Petros moved forward and unlocked the shackles binding Abel's wrists. The silver haired man staggered slightly, gasping as cramped muscles protested the movement. His eyes were confused. "His Holiness…"

"I told him that you weren't dangerous, and that you could assist with locating Lady Esther. Brother Petros was kind enough to support me."

"I…thank you." Abel leaned against the wall.

Petros scowled at him. "I will be monitoring you at all times."

"I see." He stood a moment longer, then pushed himself off the wall. "If it's not too much trouble…I'd like to see the information we have so far. Petros was kind enough to give me some data, but…"

"Understood. He'll take you to where you can work." Caterina nodded. "I have things to look into, but I'll send the Professor by with a new uniform for you."

"Thank you." Abel moved toward the door, and as he did so, Caterina saw the raw welts upon one wrist. She caught his hand.

"Abel…"

He didn't look at her. "It's all right. It just…I injured it earlier, and it hasn't had a chance to heal yet. It's fine."

"Hmm. I want you to allow William to look you over anyway. That's an order." Before Abel could protest, she turned and exited the cell.

Abel stood for a moment. He didn't turn, but when he spoke, his voice was taunt with strain. "The RMOC file…did Seth...?"

"I saw the information, yes." Petros scowled at him. He moved forward until he was mere inches away from the other man. "Why are you here, in the Vatican?"

Abel shuddered. "I…I promised Caterina I'd protect her. I promised her…" Something in the way he said it implied he didn't mean Caterina any longer. "I promised…to atone for what I've done…"

"I see." Petros watched his face, read the sincerity there, mixed with anguish that even the passing of years hadn't taken from the man. "Very well. I will assist you."

Abel looked startled. "Then you…the things I've done…and you still…you're still willing to trust me? Even knowing…" His face twisted, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Even knowing…the sins I've committed?"

"I am aware of your past. However, men can change, and it is God's will that we forgive a repentant sinner." Petros turned his face away, to scowl at a far wall.

"I see. Thank you."

"I'm not finished." Petros whirled back to face the other man, his face set in hard lines. "I know there's something you are keeping from me. I want an answer now: Is it a danger to the Vatican?"

Abel shuddered. "No. I…I swear to you, what I haven't told you…it's a personal matter." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, there was a strange light in them, almost what Petros would call madness. "I swear, I will tell you…but not…please, not now."

"Very well." Petros nodded, then suddenly brought his staff up to within an inch of Abel's chest. "I'll trust you for now, but I'm warning you. If I find out you're lying to me, or if you stray from God's path then I will crush you."

Abel stared at him. "You mean…if I lose control…" He stopped, saw the confirmation in Petro's face. Relief crossed the pale features. "Thank you."

Petros bit back a growl. "You can thank me by beginning your search for the Queen of Albion."

All trace of amusement vanished from Abel's eyes. "Of course." His expression turned haunted again. "I only pray we'll find her in time." He met Petros eyes, and as one, the two of them moved for the door.

Esther felt as though she was going to go mad.

She'd spent the last few days penned up in her rooms. Though they were luxurious, and Sieglind supplied her every want, she still wasn't permitted to go past the door. Any attempt to leave had been met with Sieglind blocking her path.

Cain hadn't summoned her again, not since that first evening in his chambers. Isaac had visited her twice though, as had Dietrich. The memories of those visits still made her gut twist.

Isaac had lost none of the manners he used as Butler, but the mocking tone to his words, the sly insinuations, made him a different man altogether. She wasn't sure which was worse, the echoes of the man she'd thought was an ally, or the casual cruelty that swirled around him now. He checked her health, spoke to her a few minutes, and then left, to tend to the Contra Mundi.

Bad as he was, Dietrich was worse. He visited merely to tease her. She still remembered his last appearance at her door with a shudder.

She'd been trying to read when the door opened, revealing Deitrich in the frame. He didn't say anything, just stepped across the threshold with an arrogant swagger and shut the door behind him. "Hello, Esther."

She shut the book with a snap, rising to face him. "Dietrich. What are you doing here?"

He offered her a tilted, evil grin. "Now Esther, how can you be so cold? After all, we were such good friends in Istvan. I'd think you'd be a little happier to see me."

"You tried to kill me. And what you did to the Baron of Luxor…" Esther felt herself shaking in rage.

"To Radu? You honestly expect me to believe you have sympathy for that pathetic excuse of a man?" Deitrich snorted. "Well, your sympathy for people is one of the things I love about you. But honestly, the man was a traitor to his own Empress. He simply didn't have the stomach to go through with his orders. Really, he should be glad I put him out of his misery by taking over."

"Bastard. What you did to him…and to Ion…"

"Oh, do calm down. It's simply the way things are done." Dietrich gave her an evil smile and leaned against the wall. "And really, I was quite merciful." He held up one hand, so she could see the glittering lines running between his fingers. "Haven't you ever wondered, Esther? What it would be like to give up and let someone else pull your strings? Just sit back and let someone else do all the hard work, make all the hard choices. And yet, you'll get all the credit. Doesn't that sound rather easy? Even fun in a way." The depraved grin widened. "Just think how easy dealing with Albion would be if you just let me take over." He held out a hand. "I know you didn't get a good first experience, what with having to shoot that priest and all, but I'm sure I could make your next experience much more enjoyable."

She jerked backward. "Don't you dare touch me."

"Well, if you insist on being so dreary. I suppose I can leave it alone. But honestly, you don't know what you're missing." Dietrich sighed.

"Get out of here." Esther stood ramrod stiff. She wondered if she could command Sieglind to take Dietrich away.

To her surprise, the Doll moved forward. "Mistress is distressed. You should leave, sir."

"Well, if that's how things are, then I suppose I might as well. It's really too bad. I only came to try and cheer you up a little. Oh well. Later Esther." He waved, then disappeared through the door.

Esther shuddered again at the memory. She wanted desperately to run as far away from the place as she could get, and the fact she couldn't do anything made it nearly unbearable. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm her nerves. If she was too restless, Sieglind would come to check on her. Despite the similarities between the Doll and Father Tres, there was something about Sieglind that made the hair on the back of Esther's neck stand up. Father Tres seemed…businesslike, but there was a warmth to him. Even though he was an android, she could sense something rather like companionship from him. There was nothing of the sort with Sieglind. Only the cold blank stare, and the flat mechanical tones.

Esther closed her eyes and set aside the book she'd been trying to read. She missed Father Tres, and Ion and all the others. But her greatest concern wasn't for them. She took a deep breath, trying to stop the rush of hurt as her thoughts returned once more to the silver-haired priest she'd left behind.

She missed Abel desperately. She hadn't realized, but she depended so much on his calm assessment of things, his way of dealing with situations. Even that wry, almost ridiculous sense of humor, and his tendency to act as if he hadn't enough brains to walk in a straight line with. She missed it all. She bit her lip, fighting back tears as she remembered his gentle, supportive kindness, and how she'd repaid him.

A sharp rap on the door, followed by the whisper of hinges, broke her out of her thoughts. She looked up.

Melchior was standing in the doorway, a bored expression on his face. He moved forward two steps into the room, then snapped his fingers. "Sieglind."

The Doll stepped forward at once. "Master."

"I'm to check your function." He scowled, then shifted his hand over behind the Doll's back. "Diagnostic."

Sieglind froze, and her eyes went even blanker than usual. Melchior frowned again, and spoke to Esther without raising his head. "Well? How is she functioning? If you need the programming altered, tell me now."

Esther shivered at his flat tones. "Well, I'd like to be able to choose what I wear, you know."

Melchior shrugged. "Not my department. It's orders. Mein Herr prefers uniforms, but you aren't part of the order, so he does this. I'm not overruling that."

Esther stiffened her resolve. "Well…I'd like to be able to walk around a little more. I'm not used to being kept in one room like this."

Melchior shrugged again. "Orders. Mein Herr. If you want more freedom, take it up with him. It's not my concern." He frowned, made a few adjustments. "Anything else?"

Esther winced at the utter lack of interest in his tones. She wanted to press the issue, but he clearly didn't care. "No, thank you."

"Very well." Melchior did something else, she couldn't tell what, then shrugged again. "She'll be back online in five minutes. I've adjusted her operational standards to conform to Mein Herr's commands for now. By the way, you'll be joining us for dinner tonight." Without another word, he turned and left the room.

Esther shivered. She wondered if she could feign a sudden debilitating headache, or illness. But she knew it was useless. Sieglind, like Tres, would know she lied. Besides, Cain was likely to demand she come whether she was ill or not. But dinner…in a room full of Methuselah…her gut clenched. She bit her lip, then lifted her chin. No matter what happened, she'd face them like a true Queen of Albion, and a proper member of the AX. She took a deep breath, then returned to her reading, trying to still her nerves.

"You must prepare for dinner, Mistress." Sieglind's cold voice cut through her focus two hours later. Esther sat for a moment, then laid the book aside. The Doll was waiting by the bathing room. "I've prepared your bath. I will be ready to clothe you when you emerge."

Esther nodded, and strode into the room without comment. She wanted to protest, but she remembered Melchior's words. If this was Cain's idea, then there was nothing she could do about it. She stepped into the bath, feeling the warm water wash over her, and fought to relax her tense muscles. Terrified as she was, she didn't want them to know it. She washed her hair, then concentrated on scrubbing her skin thoroughly, grateful she'd been able to keep Sieglind out of here at least.

She emerged from the tub forty-five minutes later, dressed in her robe and undergarments. Sieglind was standing beside the dresser. "Master says you will wear this one."

Esther stared at the pink dress laid out for her. She wasn't sure she wanted to wear it, but Sieglind gave her no time to protest. The Doll simply stepped forward and took her robe, then began to help her into the gown without a word. Esther helped as much as she could. She'd learned, over the past few days that the faster she dressed, the sooner she could ask Sieglind to leave her alone.

Dressing took perhaps twenty minutes. Esther let Sieglind adjust the fall of the pleated skirt, then stared at herself in the mirror while the other brushed out her hair.

Actually wearing the dress was even more uncomfortable than seeing it. She was used to sleeves, or at least straps that went over the shoulders. Instead, this had straps that wrapped firmly about her upper arms, deliberately off the shoulder. They felt loose to her, as if they were going to fall down with the slightest movement.

The bodice of the gown was cut low, far lower than she liked, and formfitting. It hugged her breasts, outlined in golden thread, then wrapped snugly around her waist and hips, before expanding into a frilled skirt that descended to her knees. There, it gave way to a pleated skirt, a shade or two darker, which fell in graceful folds to lie across her ankles. Matching low heels were on her feet. The back of the dress sported a huge burgundy bow, wider than she was, attached to a short train that fell in an asymmetrical arc behind her, to stop at mid-calf. She wasn't wearing any jewelry this time, and in truth, she was grateful for it. The color of the dress and the bow reminded her too much of the way Gyula had dressed her in his wife's dress before setting out to destroy the Vatican. And something about the train reminded her far too much of a wedding dress. She shivered slightly.

"Are you cold, Mistress?" Sieglind spoke behind her.

"No. I'm all right." Esther forced a smile, just a small one, to her lips. Her hands felt clammy.

Sieglind ran the brush across her hair a few more times, then set it down. "I will take you to Master now."

Esther nodded. She didn't speak as Sieglind led her down the hallways. She wanted to run, more than anything, but the dark, hulking shapes of the Autojagers lurking to either side reminded her how pointless that would be, even if Sieglind didn't stop her. Instead, she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin, and concentrated on projecting confidence. She remembered her anger at Dietrich, and at Isaac. It helped, a little.

Finally, Sieglind stopped. Esther stared at the doors. She recognized them…the one's to the Contra Mundi's personal quarters. Her mouth went dry.

Sieglind pushed the door open and bowed. "Enter, Mistress. I will wait outside." Esther swallowed once, then gathered her pride around her and moved forward.

She'd been half afraid there would be hundreds of people there, but to her surprise, less than a dozen people were in the room. She felt herself relax slightly, only to stiffen again as a cold voice spoke in from her left.

"Esther. So glad you could join us this evening." Dietrich moved forward, a small smile on his face, and a glass in one hand. He bowed, slightly, just enough to be mocking. "We thought, since you're our guest, that you might want to meet all your hosts. After all, you're going to get to know us all at some point, so you might as well start now." He gestured. "Here, allow me to introduce you." He took her arm, and led her forcefully toward a chair in the back of the room. "I understand you've already met him, but for the sake of formality, allow me to present you to the head of our Order. Mein Herr, the Lord Contra Mundi. Mein Herr, Lady Esther Blanchett, recently named Queen of Albion." He bowed, and his grip on her arm brought Esther down too.

A soft chuckle greeted his words. "Now Dietrich, that's no way to treat a lady." Esther looked up.

Cain was fully dressed this time. He wore an outfit similar to the one he'd worn last time. A simple white tunic, long enough to touch his calves, embellished with a red stripe down the front, around the collar and hem. Tight-fitting black pants and boots only a shade lighter. The shirt was high collared and long sleeved, though the collar turned down to reveal a hint of a black undershirt. The only difference was the gold braiding that touched his shoulders, and the links on his sleeves. She couldn't say why, but for some reason it reminded her of the military uniforms she'd seen on some of the Albion guards, and on Inquisitors.

He chuckled again, then rose with lazy grace from his seat. "Here, I'll have Isaac introduce you, since Dietrich doesn't have proper manners." His tone was mild, even slightly joking, and Dietrich colored slightly. "You've already met Isaac, of course." He gestured. The dark haired man raised his glass in a salute, then bowed and stepped forward.

"Lady Esther, allow me to present my fellow members of the Order." He gestured. "You've already met Lady Helga von Vogelweide. And of course, Melchior von Neumann, the maker of your servant. His hand lifted to gesture to each remaining person in the room. "Lord Balthasar von Neumann, and his brother Kaspar von Neumann, the elder and younger brothers to Melchior. Also, Gudiern, whom I believe you should remember." A smile touched his face.

Esther swallowed. She did remember Gudiern. She'd never heard him speak, but he'd defended her on Isaac's orders one, in Istvan. The thought made her shiver.

Isaac saw her discomfort, and the smile widened a fraction. "Also, Lady Skorzeny, known better as the Red Baronness." He nodded. "She's our best pilot. I'd venture to say your Sister Kate probably knows her quite well."

Esther swallowed. "Sister…Sister Kate?"

"Of course." Isaac nodded. "They've been enemies for quite some time, especially since that regrettable accident where the Sister was injured."

Esther froze. She felt off-balance, uncertain. She had a sudden terrifying feeling she was the only human in the room, and all her earlier confidence was draining away fast.

"Oh come now, Isaac. You're scaring the poor lady." The man introduced as Balthasar stepped out of the group, holding two glasses with a small smile on his face. "Really, Isaac…how could you have such poor manners. You shouldn't go saying things like that, not when we gathered here to meet her." he stepped forward, held out a glass. "I do apologize if Isaac's making you uncomfortable, Lady Esther. Here have some wine, and you'll feel a little better."

"Thank you." Esther took the glass and took a quick swallow. "I'm afraid my throat was a bit dry." She offered him a tentative smile back, trying to hold on to her courage.

"Well, I thought so." Balthasar offered her a quick nod. "Skorzeny does love a good fight, and she practically lives in that plane of hers but, you don't need to worry." He tilted his head, light glinting on his shoulder length brown hair. "As my apology, why don't you let me introduce you properly to Kaspar?" His expression turned apologetic. "I'm afraid Melchior isn't the sociable type. He would probably be in his lab if Mein Herr hadn't summoned us. But you should meet Kaspar." He took her hand in his free one, and led her forward before she could protest.

Kaspar von Neumann made Esther's stomach twist with nerves. He was taller than his brother, and more solidly built. Well defined muscles showed in his arms, and he'd shaved his head bald. But imposing as it was, there was a sense of wrongness, of strangeness, that frightened her even more than his physique. It took her a moment to realize that part of it was the way he was dressed. He wore black leather, but cut in a definitely feminine style, with jewelry and a feathery purple boa. He even wore make-up, heavy eyeliner and he'd painted his nails to match. The contrast between dress and face was unsettling.

He smiled as Balthasar led her forward. "Oh, hello. You're lady Esther." He turned to face them, and to Esther's surprise, he dipped her a curtsy, not a bow. "It's nice to have another girl in the group." He took a step forward, and Esther saw him inhale. "You smell very good."

Esther shivered, and Balthasar clasped her hand a little tighter. "Kaspar. Behave properly."

The man's expression dropped into a grimace. "Sorry brother." He dipped his head, then turned back to Esther. "He's always very careful about taking care of me. But then, I'm the youngest, and the only sister he has."

The matter-of-fact tone caught Esther completely off guard. "Sister? But you…" Balthasar's squeeze caught her words and stopped her. She looked up to see his expression, and he gave a faint shake of his head. "I see." She felt her stomach growl, and looked back at the man beside her. "If you don't mind, I'm a little hungry."

"Of course." He nodded to his brother, then turned and led her toward the tables. "Don't mind Kaspar. We're not entirely sure why but…he seems to prefer being a girl. Please, don't let it trouble you."

"Oh, it's all right." Esther took the plate he gave her, and forced a small smile to her lips. "I was just rather startled. What he said…"

A cold drawling voice interrupted. "Why Balthasar…playing nice to our guest?"

"Helga." Balthasar turned. "Have you met Lady Esther?"

Helga sniffed. "I've met the girl. Although…" She cast an eye in Esther's direction. "I'm not sure lady is the appropriate word for such a little scarecrow, and a Terran at that. Still…you're always so polite, Balthasar." She offered a mocking tilt of her head. "Welcome to the Order…Lady Esther."

The words were edged in acid politeness, and Esther felt indignation flood through her. She bit her lip, and forced herself to remain calm. "Thank you, Lady Vogelweide."

A sneer touched her face. "Trust a Terran girl not to know proper etiquette." She moved forward. "A German noble of proper rank is always addressed with 'von' in their surname."

"And a Queen is always addressed with Your Highness." Dietrich moved forward, a cold smile on his lips. "Or had you forgotten that Esther is a queen?" He sighed theatrically. "Honestly, and here I thought your memory was better than that, along with your manners."

Helga sniffed again. "As if I'd care about a lecture given to me by a boy not even capable of handling wine like a proper man."

Dietrich shrugged, but Esther saw his hand tighten around his glass. "Well, I don't mind, as long as you're the one to clean up the mess. But then, we wouldn't want to spoil those looks of yours, now would we?" There was a sneer on his face. "Pity. It might make you look better to get a little dirt on you. After all, Esther used to look very charming in a little bit of dirt and blood."

Helga snorted. "Well, that's not much of a surprise. After all, they do say a little grime will make any street urchin look more agreeable. Even if she is a queen, Terrans are so fond of mucking about in the dirt." Her sneer turned Esther's blood hot.

"At least I'm capable of doing things." She drew herself up and faced the other woman with fury in her eyes. "I'd rather be a Terran working in the fields than a spoiled weak woman like you."

Dietrich chuckled. "Temper, temper. Esther, you really should watch who you're talking to. After all, even if she is weaker than I am…you're still at a disadvantage, aren't you?"

"You stay out of this, von Lohengrin." Helga's eyes snapped up to his, before she turned back to Esther. "And you…" Her sneer was sharp and hard. "You might be a queen, but you should remember your place. You're still just a Terran, and a child at that. Don't think to test your will against me, the Ice Witch." She laughed. "You and Dietrich…little brats should stay where they belong. And Terran weaklings should behave like the sheep they are."

"You…" Temper and fear got the better of her. Though she'd sworn to remain calm, Helga's mocking sneer pushed her over the edge. "Don't you dare speak about us like that!" Her hand snapped out, quick and hard. She wasn't sure whether she meant to strike the other woman or not, only that the fury in her blood wouldn't let her remain still.

Helga's hand snapped up, something glittering around her wrist. Esther felt the sharp crack as their arms collided, and bit back a cry as pain slashed through her wrist.

Dietrich laughed. "Really now, Ice Witch. You ought to be a little more consistent. After all, if Esther's so weak, you shouldn't have had to bring out your toy. Or do you just like showing off?"

Helga didn't speak. Esther shifted, ready to whirl on Dietrich, but pain flashed through her arm. She gasped and looked down.

Her wrist was crimson with blood dripping from a four inch wound across her arm. It flowed down her wrist, down her hand. Even as she watched, the first crimson drops spilled to the floor. For a moment, all she could focus on was the pain and sock of the injury. Then she looked up, and felt her heart start pounding in terror.

Every Methuselah in the room was staring at her. Isaac's eyes were bright with interest, but worse were the other looks. Cold calculation, and in Kaspar's case, outright bloodlust. She flinched, and turned toward the door. I'm bleeding. They're Methuselah. I…I have to get out of here.

She'd gotten two steps when a sudden cold grip caught her from behind. She jerked hard at the wrist, and whirled to find Dietrich holding her, a smug expression on his face. "Let me go."

"Well, I can hardly do that in your current condition, now can I?" Dietrich's smile was cruel, the same one she'd seen in the dungeons of the Empire. "After all, that is a rather nasty cut you've got there. We should at least take care of it."

His strong hand held her arm, and his other hand snaked around her and pinned her. He looked up. "Hey Isaac. It looks like Esther's making a bit of a mess." There was a hint of amusement in his tones. "Perhaps you could help me clean her up. I'd do it myself, but I don't think she'll stay still. But you do have some experience with this, don't you?"

Kampfer laughed. Esther didn't see him move, but he was suddenly beside her. "You're right. I do have some experience with the Lady's wounds." He smiled at her, bloodlust mixing with cruelty and amusement in his eyes. "If you'll allow me."

He took her dripping wrist in his hand, and bowed his head over it. Esther shuddered as she felt his tongue slide across the cut, drinking her blood. She tried to pull away, but there was no chance.

Helga made a small noise of disgust. "Really. Just what I'd expect of you, Kampfer. To drink straight blood like that…it's disgusting."

Kampfer raised his head, and Esther saw a dark, sated light in his eyes. He turned. "Well, I'll admit, it isn't my first choice. But then…Lady Esther does have very special blood. But perhaps you'd like to find out for yourself. Unless, you're too delicate to do so. After all, there are some nobles who can't stomach real blood." His smile was cold and challenging.

"Hmmph. I don't see what could possibly be so special about one Terran brat's blood. But I'm not as weak as the Puppet Master here." She moved forward, and took Esther's wrist in an iron grip. Esther bit back a gasp of pain as the long sharp nails dug deep into her skin, ripping the wound wider. "Let's see what's so impressive about you." She jerked Esther's wrist up roughly, and bit into the skin.

Esther flinched as the other woman moved away, an odd look on her face. The sight of her own blood coating Helga's lips made Esther shudder. "No…"

"Oh. I'd like to try a taste." Kaspar moved forward, bloodlust shining bright in his eyes. "She smells so good. May I?"

Balthasar waved a hand. "You'll have to excuse me, Lady." His tone was apologetic, but his eyes were amused. "He'll keep after you if I don't let him now. Just a taste though, dear. Let us know what she's like."

"Of course." Esther had no time to even think about moving before the man seized her and latched onto her wrist.

He drank greedily, great gulps of her blood, until Balthasar spoke again. "Enough."

Kaspar backed away, rubbing his lips. "She's so good, brother. Really. You should try. Just a drink. The taste of her…it makes me feel…good. Warm." He chuckled softly, and the sound reminded Esther of the way the Fleur du Mal members had sounded just before they'd tried to rape her. "Excited." He smiled, and shifted his hips, gave Kampfer a slow, sensuous smile. "You feel it too, right?"

"Hmmm…well, I can't say I don't. But I'm afraid you're not quite my type."

"Oh, but I can be. You know I can." Kaspar favored him with another of those looks. Then he turned to the silent form of Gudiern. "Or maybe you? I like a big strong man."

Esther shivered. Hegla laughed. "Well, I have to admit, for once Isaac was right." She tipped a glass, held it to Esther's wound, then turned and held it out to the silent man standing nearby. "Have a taste, Melchior. I'll even vouch for the vintage this time."

He didn't say anything, but he took the glass. Esther watched helplessly, a sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach as he drank her blood, and a slow dark smile slid across his face. Then her attention was caught by another touch on her arm.

Balthasar stood before her, his eyes still amused. It shook her, the air of gentlemanly composure as he took her arm. "Well, my dear. I'm afraid I've gotten rather curious. It's not often I see my brother like that." He titled his head to where Kaspar was still winding himself around Gudiern. Then his eyes shifted slightly, to Helga and Melchior talking in low tones. "I hope you'll indulge me." He tilted his head to her arm, and obscene mockery of a bow, and drank. Then he took a glass from the nearby table, poured part of the wine onto the floor, and licked her wound again, making the red blood flow faster. He caught it in the cup and held it out to Skorzeny. "Shall we join in the fun, my dear?"

Esther shuddered at the naked look of lust in his eyes. She saw Isaac, strolling over to join Gudiern and Kampfer. There was something indecent about the way he moved, the way the two men touched each other. Panic flooded her body. "No… stop."

Balthasar turned, and there was a drunken look about him. "I'm sorry Lady Esther. Did you want to join us?" There was a blur of movement, and then he was beside her. To Esther's horror, one hand came up and touched her breast, slid across her stomach. "I'm sure we can accommodate you. Especially since you were so kind as to bring refreshments."

"No! Let go of me!" Esther struggled, but the blood loss was making her dizzy. She shuddered at his touch.

"Ah. Not ready yet? Well, Dietrich can help with that. Right Puppet Master?" he smiled. "I'm sure Skorzeny and I can work on something in the meantime." He smiled at the woman behind him, moved closer to her. "You know… that red you wear…most enticing." Esther shuddered.

"Well, this is interesting." Dietrich's voice came from over her shoulder. "I've seen blood excite them before, but I have to admit, it's never been quite this amusing." Esther tried to pull away from him, and he laughed. "You didn't know, did you? Fresh blood can arouse more than just feeding in a Methuselah." His free hand travelled up, over her stomach and chest, to stroke her face. The touch made her sick, even more so when she saw Melchior making a similar gesture to Helga. And Kampfer and Kaspar…she felt as though she was going to faint. Dietrich stroked her face again. "What do you think Esther? Should we join them? If you like, I'll even give you a little help."

The world felt as if it was spinning too fast, and there was a strange roaring in her ears. She felt sick, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would break her ribs. She couldn't seem to get her balance. But the leer on Dietrich's face, the movements of the others terrified her. "No. Let go of me!"

She fought, but Dietrich's grip was too strong, and her strength was fading too fast. Despair seized her. Help me…

Something strong closed suddenly around her wrist. A voice spoke from just beside her, cool and slightly amused. "You know, I think that's quite enough."

"Mein Herr." Deitrich's tone was suddenly respectful. She felt the clasp of his hand disappear. She took a deep breath, and tried to bring the world back into focus.

Cain had moved. She'd almost forgotten him, sitting in his throne. But now he stood beside her, one lean, pale hand closed around her wrist. He looked at her face, at the blood still dripping from her wrist, and made a soft noise of amused exasperation. "Really now. If you drain her blood, then I can't find out what Abel wants with her. And I won't be able to figure out why she and Abel are so close. I thought I told you I wanted her taken proper care of." He shook his head. "Really, Dietrich. You are such a foolish boy. And Isaac…" He shook his head. "Well, I suppose I'll take care of it myself."

"Mein Herr…" Dietrich stopped as Cain waved a negligent hand at him Cain reached out, and brushed his free hand across the trail of blood on Esther's hand. He brought it absently to his lips. "Well now, you do smell interesting. I see what Isaac means." He licked the blood from his fingers in a casual gesture, and she saw real interest in his face. "That really is rather interesting, Lady Esther." He bent his head to her wrist.

Esther went rigid in terror. What is he…what is he going to do to me? She remembered Abel's death at his hands. Panic crashed over her once more. "No. Let go of me! Let go! Stay away from me!" She jerked at her arm, hard enough to make her shoulder pop, but it made no difference.

Cain's tongue ran across the cut, a strong forceful stroke that made her shudder in a renewed flare of pain. His hand tightened sharply on her arm, just above the cut. "There. That ought to stop that." His voice carried a hint of a chuckle. "Isaac. Your handkerchief." He held out a hand. His touch was deft and impersonal as he wrapped the length of cloth around the wound. "There. That should hold until the bleeding stops." He smiled at her. "You really do have interesting blood, Esther."

The words pounded in her ears, crashing over her and leaving her dizzy with panic and weakness. "Keep away from me!"

"Hmmm?" Cain regarded her with mild surprise. "Oh. Well, I suppose you're not feeling too well now?" He sighed. "This is rather inconvenient. Really, Isaac…" He sighed again.

A strong grip seized her, and she felt herself lifted from the floor. She struggled, but she hadn't the strength to do anything more than push feebly at the chest of the man who held her. Greyness and spots clouded her vision. She heard a door open, and Cain's voice, speaking to someone else. "Sieglind. Take her to her quarters, and tend to her."

"Yes Master." Esther felt herself released from one set of hands to another, and the world went black.