"Tell me, ye who were once my god: you once perpetuated a cycle of destruction and recreation, did you not," said Z.

"Indeed. Your purpose in reminding me?" asked Alvis.

"You have professed that existence can never tire; that it can only ever be. And yet, you have been witness to the fact that it can end; that it can cease to be."

"Even annihilation leaves behind energy."

"Yet energy without structure, without order, without sense...why would it matter, to those without minds to make it intelligible? The threat of non-existence remains."

"And you would have mankind stagnate?"

Z shook his head. "That which stagnates is that which becomes inactive, and helpless against all; yet in the face of the unyielding Flow, it takes immense energy to remain still, and keep the clock from turning." Z's gaze sharpened. "That which is dead cannot resist the passage of time; only the living can make a moment last..."

Alvis seemed amused by the rejoinder. "Insightful; I will acknowledge that much, at least..."

xxxx

/Six Years after the Rejoining/

/Seven Months after Dirk Ran Away from Home/

Whenever Triton and Irma came to visit, it was always an occasion for the heads of the Six Houses to meet in congress.

Monica Vandham just wished that they would have come after she was done with her blasted pregnancy. Resting a hand on her swollen belly, she winced at a slight bit of movement from within. Would've preferred being able to do this without the extra weight, she thought with an irritable expression. Ghondor was nowhere near this difficult. Then again, her firstborn's birth had been...what, about a quarter of a century ago? She hadn't gotten any younger in that time.

(The wonders of a world bereft of eternal war; among them was the relative luxury of being able to sit back and consider one's options in terms of long-term family life. Hence, after some considerable discussion on the matter, Monica had finally reciprocated Jansen's advances...even if Ghondor had given her Ouroboros junior a bit of flak.)

With Garrett Doyle, Masha Cassini, Playne Ortiz (having succeeded Timna as head of his House since the Rejoining), Julian Rhodes, and Tatiana Reid present, they were just waiting for Triton and Irma to finish the security screening. "They've been here often enough by now," said Playne, looking with a raised eyebrow at Garrett. "Isn't this bit of security theatre a bit over the top by now?"

"The rules are there for a reason," replied Garrett, his dark hair and chinstrap beard having gained a bit of gray over the past six years. "Any messages to and from the Queens go through them, and them alone."

"It does seem rather pointless by now, you have to admit," grumbled Julian, his dull red hair matched by a scruffy beard and mustache. The roughness of his facial hair matched his voice. "I'm tempted to throw them a bone if only so the Nopon guilds will stop trying to slip through. An official channel for at least one of the guilds will at least give us some measure of control over what does and doesn't pass our borders."

"It only ever takes one crack, Julie Dear," said Masha with an amused grin; even now, her wardrobe remained as fashionably flashy as ever. "You allow a trickle, and it eventually becomes a roaring flood; and then we would have a true clash of cultures. Wouldn't that be an exciting development?" Glancing over at Polis's Elder, she remarked, "What do you say, Monnie Dearest?"

Monica sighed, knowing that her fellow House leaders were simply killing time; any such debate regarding Polis's geopolitical relationship with the wider world was left for the Senate. "We all agreed to hold off on integrating with the rest of the world for a generation or two at least; not only because of concerns with former Aionios soldiers recalling their conflict with the Lost Numbers, but also because it would be...rather awkward, to encounter our ancient ancestors in the flesh." After all, it wasn't exactly a secret amongst them that the progenitors of the Six Houses were alive, even if their identities were still ambiguous to the people of Polis as a whole. "We represent untold centuries' worth of history...it's not our place to put the burdens we carry upon the shoulders of those who had nothing to do with our struggle." (This was also notwithstanding that, well...it would've been downright awkward to run into Noah and Mio again, especially now that she was aware — thanks to prior correspondence from Queen Nia — that it was from N and M that Vandham and Doyle had even come to be.) "There will come a time when our peoples will intermingle once more; but it's not this day."

Tatiana, who had been quiet thus far, raised her melancholy eyes. Looking at nothing in particular, she said, "A shame...honestly. To be unable to meet the ancestors from which our Houses emerged...truly, a missed opportunity..."

Monica grimaced, feeling a stab of pity for the head of House Reid: the mother of Shania. Even though the antipathy between Tatiana and Shania was well-known, the majority of Polis's citizenry were on the former's side. After all, Shania had attempted to destroy the City twice in Aionios, and had become a Moebius; the circumstances leading to such a wretched turn of fate, alas, had been...neglected. As such, Tatiana remained as the head of House Reid, and would likely do so until her family settled on a suitable successor. (And so Monica had gotten a lot of practice at gritting her teeth in Tatania's presence.) "Our past isn't theirs. Let the Old World be." At that moment, the doors into the private conference room opened, and all chatter ceased. Here we go. "Triton, Irma; welcome back to Polis."

The former Moebius duo calmly sauntered over towards the long table, taking the two chairs left for them. With all six House leaders on the other side, it gave off the image of a united front against the foreign mercenaries. As security personnel closed the door behind them, the air in the room changed; professional courtesy gave way a more easygoing air, thanks to the warm lighting. "It's been a bit, lass; nearly a year since our last visit, hasn't it?"

Playne nodded with a grin. "It feels like it's been even longer. Shiner's still talking about how your crew took down Obstinate Agnar during the last cold season."

Triton chuckled, apparently pleased by how Playne's son remembered their last visit. "Ah, that was a right beast of a Gogol, wasn't he?"

Irma, looking stern as ever, decided to cut down to brass tacks. "So: information exchange. What would you like to know first?"

Masha leaned forward with a smile. "Any changes with the Old World's rulers? Might as well start big and bold."

And so Triton and Irma launch into their overview of affairs involving the outside world, particularly with regards to political affairs from a 'discreet' perspective. Perspectives on the apparent courtship between Dunban of Keves and Mòrag of Agnus varied, and there were also concerns about rumors that Raqura was planning to abdicate in favor of her firstborn son Fulgento (at what precise point was unknown). Public opinion of Nia and Melia was still rather favorable by comparison, which was significantly reassuring. "It's good to have rulers who will be friendly towards us on the outset," said Playne. "I mean, provided the bit about their long lifespans still holds?"

"It should," said Irma. "Melia is of the High Entia race, who have much longer lifespans than us normal humans. And Nia, being a Flesh Eater, likewise has an extended lifespan. It's quite likely that they'll still be alive long after we're gone."

Julian nodded. "Good. If they still maintain their discretion, then they'll be able to help integrate our peoples, once the troubles of Aionios have passed out of living memory."

"Let's not get too committed," cautioned Garrett, as was typical. "We've made many gains in this untamed land; it would best to focus here before getting too involved with the Old World. After all, we cannot be sure that we are military peers, anymore." It was a cynical but realistic fear, especially in a world whether the technological profiles of Keves and Agnus differed radically from what they had been in Aionios.

"Which brings to mind a question I have," remarked Irma, leaning forward with a stern expression. "Have there been any Core Crystals sighted within any of Polis's black markets?"

Monica nodded. "The Lost Numbers have standing orders to procure them if sighted. We're still not sure as to how they've managed to slip through."

"Either the Nopon are being deceitful, or there's a supplier that's somehow sneaking past the coastal patrols," grumbled Julian.

"Or one of our own are ignoring protocol to let smugglers through," said Tatiana, her tone matching her morose expression.

Irma huffed, watching the others' impulsive reaction to Tatiana's words. "Would it truly be so shocking? People are still people: Polis, Keves, or Agnus." Looking over towards Monica. "I'd like to see the Core Crystals you do have once we're done."

"Oh?" remarked Masha. "Fancy trying to bond with one? I myself had half a mind to attempt it myself, just to see the patterns of the shape unfurling..."

"There be a very specific Core Crystal that Irma be searchin' for," explained Triton, resting his elbows on the table. "It's part of the reason she's stuck around for so long."

"It was the first reason I stuck around; it's no longer the only one," corrected Irma, elbow her co-captain in the side. "There's a difference."

"Anyhow, the other big thing we're followin' up on...how's research on the lady from beyond the stars goin'?" Triton ran a hand through his bushy beard, leveling everyone with a stern stare. "Have Astelle and Kosmo made any progress?" he asked, utilizing his preferred nickname for Zeke's overpowered Blade.

'Lady from beyond the stars' was a polite description for a mangled android possessing an uncanny resemblance to KOS-MOS. "Even with a baseline provided by KOS-MOS, interfacing with the memory of the android is...proving to be a bit difficult. Accessing its databases has been a time-consuming process," said Monica.

"Anything of note that you've been able to decipher?" asked Irma.

Garrett shook his head. "There are files referring to something called a Domain, but the language is unfamiliar, notwithstanding the other difficulties with decrypting the code. Based on what Lady Astelle has been able to pry out of the android with KOS-MOS's assistance, this 'Domain' could refer to another dimension of sorts. But there is little that can be done currently but speculate."

"Well, somethin' is better than nothin'," admitted Triton. "Anythin' to give our people insight into this strange new world of ours is good enough, I dare to say."

"And for what purpose?" asked Garrett. "Even I can recognize that the android is a machine of war. We're not yet ten years into settling this world; let's not be in a rush to draw the attention of whatever it came from."

"If there's any attention to draw," murmured Julian. "Origin split Aionios back into two worlds, only for them to join back together immediately; how much was recreated? Was anything left behind? What received a new role in this reborn world? Did anything slip through, bereft of the meaning it once had?" He let his words sink in for a moment, like stones settling upon the bed of a roaring river: unmoving, even in the face of fate's torrential passage. "We could be working ourselves into a tizzy over this android, even though whatever knowledge it has may no longer apply. At least as far as the Old World is concerned, at least."

Masha chuckled at Julian's words. "My my, quite the statesman, Julie Dear." Ignoring Julian's impulsive grimace at her pet name, Masha added, "But even if all the knowledge within doesn't mean a thing anymore, it's still a worthwhile endeavor on our part. After all, if our mysterious 'Blue Light' is anything like KOS-MOS, she must have been quite the beauty...and I find it rather difficult to believe that one with such aesthetics could be nothing more than a mere weapon."

Monica watched as Triton and Irma pondered those words, until eventually they nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" asked the Elder.

Before the two mercenary captains could answer, the sound of scuffling could be heard from outside the room, complete with familiar grunts. There was muffled yelling — "Miss Vandham, you can't go in-!" — followed by brunt retorts — "Piss off, this is important" — before the double doors burst open. In stormed Ghondor, forcing a younger man forward with his arm pinned behind his back.

Monica resisted the urge to roll her eyes, sending an apologetic glance at the poor guards who had been practically bull-rushed by her daughter. "Ghondor, you know our meeting is-"

"Did you get in trouble already?" interrupted Irma, glaring at the blond man held by Ghondor.

Ghondor promptly pressed the young man towards the table, pressing his face against the table. Despite his frustrated grunts, he was not struggling. Ghondor looked sternly at the guards — commanding them with her eyes to retreat, closing the doors once more — before turning towards Triton and Irma. "So. When were you gonna tell us that you brought another Moebius along with ya?"

Monica boggled, looking at the blond's face with greater intention: the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, the parting and shade of his hair; with a grim expression, Monica accessed her Iris and pulled up the City's records of known Moebius. "...Moebius D?"

Julian suddenly stood with alarm. "The one who killed Guernica?!" At those words, everyone's eyes flashed towards D, before turning to Triton and Irma.

Triton grimaced. "Now to be fair, I didn't think the lad-"

And then the arguments and protests came about in a greater flurry, as words flew with greater abandon; for it had been the way of Moebius to speak and boast of their accomplishment (for Irma let it slip that D had boasted of how his first encounter with Ouroboros had gone, complete with Guernica's last attempts at fighting), regardless of how callous it had been. Suspicions about why Triton and Irma had brought along another Moebius were lobbed, and tempers were slowly beginning to build.

All the while, D remained silent, face set into an expression of forced stoicism.

This isn't going anywhere. Grimacing, Monica rose to her feet, resting a hand on her back and under her swollen abdomen. The motion of a heavily pregnant woman with a fierce expression was enough to stall the argument; it was just long enough for Monica to get a word in edgewise. "Not that I don't enjoy being on my feet right now," she griped, looking at everyone in the room, before adding, "but yelling isn't going to accomplish anything." Looking at Triton, she asked, "Is he a former Moebius?"

"Aye," said Triton. "He's a rather lowly member of the crew, to be honest. Good in a scrap, but he's volunteered to do most of our gruntwork."

That description, bereft of context, sounded downright befuddling when applied to Moebius D. Hence why Monica looking the young man in the eye, asking, "Before you became Moebius, who were you? In Aionios, I mean?"

"...Dirk, of Agnus," he replied, his words slightly slurred due to how his cheek was pressed against the table.

There were murmurs from Julian, Garrett, and Playne — regarding old stories of a crazed murderer who had the title 'Blackblaze', infamously notorious for turning his weapons against his comrades, for no apparent benefit other than the act of killing itself — that Monica ignored. "And what about in this world? Do you have family? I would like you to be honest."

D frowned, looking towards Triton and Irma with a gaze that was almost desperate. For all that the City's records attested to the ferocity and kill count of Moebius D, he certainly didn't fit the image now. Alas, with a defeated sigh, he confessed. "The mentor of House Cassini's Founder...is my old man. And the Founder of House Rhodes...is my sister." He didn't say anything else.

It was enough, as Julian looked astonished, and Masha's interest seemed almost hungry in its intensity. Even Tatiana looked intrigued; alas, Garrett was there to play his ever cynical realism. "A likely story."

"He's not joking," explained Triton. "He's been on my ship for over half a year, now. This boy is actually the son of some pretty important people from Alrest...and his mother is one of the Aegises. Riku would be able to vouch for his identity...unless he's already slipped that sort of information to you."

"...now that you mention it, Samon does get rumors from one of his foreign contacts in the Argentum Trade Guild; didn't he mention some months ago about how the 'son of Rex and Mythra' had run away from Gormott and Leftheria?" asked Playne.

Masha's eyes began to glimmer. "Oh my, oh my; a blood connection the mentor of my House's Founder, fallen right into our lap! How delightfully serendipitous."

Monica could already feel a headache building. "When we agreed to work with you as liaisons, it was with the understanding that we would vet the members of your crew before they set foot beyond New Hope's Rest: precisely to avoid these kinds of snafus!" Because if there was one thing that would result in Polis becoming embroiled in other nations' affairs prematurely, it would be an incident involving the child of Rex and Mythra. (If nothing else could be said, the diminutive Nopon was a font of knowledge...when he wasn't being intentionally secretive and obtuse as all get out.) "A working relationship is one based on trust, and abiding by the rules we both agreed to; it was a slip-up on the part of our men to let Dirk join you without further questioning, but that wasn't any excuse for you to be lax either."

"...message received," replied Irma with a stony expression.

Triton simply laughed. "Ah, no hard feelings! But that does bring up a fair question: what now? You want us to take 'Dee' back to our ship?"

The name choice actually caught Garrett's attention. "Why does he go by the name of D?"

"Dee," said Dirk, stressing the length of the name, so that it was more than just a mere consonant. "...Consul D...Moebius D...the memories I do have of him are of a murderer. That's all he is...and I'm trying to make up for it in my own way. He should be nothing," he growled, letting some viciousness slip through. "And if it means living as 'Dee'...a lowly wretch of a workman...then that's the way it's gotta be."

Ghondor impulsively snorted. "That sounds stupid."

"And who asked your opinion?" Dirk shot back.

Monica honestly didn't know what to make of this. An untimely kick within her abdomen interrupted her thoughts. "Hmph. This is something we'll have to deliberate further...because it is true that Moebius D killed my father. Nothing can change that." The accusation washed over Dirk, marking his face with guilt and remorse. "However...since you originally hail from the Old World, the sins of Aionios are not necessarily your own. So...the question is, what do you want? Repentance? To set things right?" All she got in response was a slow nod. "Then there's someone I'd like you to talk to first, before we make a decision."

Ghondor looked apoplectic. "Mother, you can't be-"

"Not now," she said, silencing her with the sheer force of authority. "Triton, Irma; he's part of your crew. Do you object?"

"It's no skin off of my bones," said Irma with a carefree shrug.

Triton smirked, giving the younger man an affectionate nudge. "Honestly, ye should consider it."

D — or Dee, or Dirk, or whoever he truly was — looked around with a wary expression, as one wondering if he was about to be marched off to death row. (That a part of him looked relieved at the possibility was...interesting, if not a bit sad.) Finally, not trusting his own words, he nodded at Monica.

xxxx

An hour had passed.

Honestly, Dirk had no idea what to expect; he had just been marched to a homely (and honestly rather old) cafeteria called Michiba Canteen, located around the Centrilo Parade. Granted, 'marched' was a strong term; he had been 'loosely' escorted by a trio of 'Lost Numbers' in such a way that no one would have figured he was being watched by them.

Still, the whole situation, as screwed up as it was, had left him a bit peckish. By some miracle, this place also used G as currency (another artifact of Aionios? Another example of the strange 'providence' that Triton liked to refer to?), which is why he was even able to purchase a small helping of poached white fish. Way too weird a name, though; what does 'acqua pazza' even supposed to mean? Still, the hour was late, and he was grateful for the chance to simply fill his belly and try to get his thoughts in order, because this day had already gone tits up in an awful way-!

"Well...I must say this is quite the surprise." Dirk looked toward the new voice; it was a man with blond hair of a more conventional shade, thick locks falling back in a straight curtain and bound into a small ponytail. His silvery eyes were rather striking, but not as much as the odd feeling he exuded. "When I was told to meet someone, I could scarcely imagine it would be Blackblaze Dirk of all people...or perhaps you prefer Consul D?"

"Who the hell are you?" growled Dirk, as the other man — older than him by a few years at least — sat down across from him.

"My name is Crys," he explained with a solemn smile. "And although we never interacted much in Aionios, you might recall me better as Consul C."

xxxx

Author's Note: And that'll do for now.

If you'd like an idea of what kind of background I'm going for with Crys insofar as his Aionios self went, I'd recommend you read "The Off-Seer" (chapter 41) from my XC3 ficlet collection "We finally found something a bit meatier".

/some people may be weirded out about the whole 'Jansen being in love with his brother's widow' bit
/but historically speaking, it's actually a thing for a man to wed their deceased brother's widow if he was not already married himself
/it's called '
levirate marriage'
/the reverse equivalent, where a widower marries the sister of his deceased wife, is called a '
sororate marriage'
/The More You Know™