Christopher waits for the sounds of viscous combat to cease. He knows Mercuria would never harm him, but it still seems unwise to get between her and her training golems at the moment. A cacophony of violence is audible from outside Mercuria’s private dojo - a repurposed armory. With the fairly consistent expansion of the Depleted Lands Facility, several rooms had fallen off the beaten trail or into disuse as the Magentu Tree’s branches had grown or shifted to reveal new optimal paths of travel.

As Christopher absentmindedly listens to Mercuria thrash the golems, he reminisces on the fight. The fact that Prince Frank was revealed to be a fairly competent illusion mage troubles him somewhat. The connotation… The implication…

There’s a final rending screech from inside the former armory, and Christopher supposes it’s safe to step in. He knocks twice.

“Ayep,” Mercuria calls. Christopher steps inside to see her standing over the defeated body of one of three golems, pressing her hand against its “forehead” to deactivate its hostile state. All three golems are seemingly battered beyond repair, with limbs, torsos, and flakes of metal strewn about the room, but interwoven within their metal bodies is a powerful reanimation formula that will see each piece attracted to each other over the next few minutes so they can reform. Every time they’re used, though, Mercuria does so much damage that the physical Vimworkings of the formula are disrupted and the spell malfunctions, slightly. Before he was able to bring it to its current state, he’d have to have them repaired manually fairly often, or do it himself.

Mercuria herself looks fairly haggard. The Vimitech golems, possessing pure metal bodies, fairly combat relevant regeneration, and complex, intelligent Animation Cores, were among the few entities that could actually trouble her in combat that he knew of, when set to their highest difficulty and instructed to kill. Christopher could see various dents in her metal armor, a cut on the side of her face, and a Mercuria shaped imprint in the far side of the wall, where she had presumably been thrown at high speed. Her hair is messier than usual, and her face is slick with sweat. Of course, the other guys were in dozens of pieces.

“So. I won’t waste your time. Are you going to be able to keep yourself from slaying or otherwise assaulting the Edrilian?” Christopher asks bluntly.

“I will restrain myself,” Mercuria says simply.

“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear, really. I know you understand that your actions skirted on disastrous today,” he offers.

“Yeah, yeah. I said I’ll keep it in line.”

“Thank you. One more thing, though - Prince Frank - does anything about him seem, uh, off to you?”

“What, like he’s autistic? It crossed my mind.” Mercuria quips. At least, Christopher thinks she’s joking.

“Mercuria.”

“Okay, like how?”

“Like he’s not who he says he is.”

“Ooo, spooky. I dunno, he seems like your regular bombastic royal to me. Very dramatic guy.”

“Why would your regular bombastic royal even be here?” Christopher poses.

“Uhhh… He said he was 14th in line to the throne. Maybe all the more important royals get to tour the cool Stave outposts.”

“We ARE cool.”

“Yep.”

“We are.”

Christopher gives her a hard stare through his metal visor, and then both laugh. Christopher is glad she seems in a jovial mood. Maybe the duel and the golems were enough to de-steam her for the time.

“I don’t know, Christopher, you were always better with those “people problems”.”

“It’s very sad that that may be true. Regardless, I’d like you to keep an eye on our Prince,” Christopher says.

“And the Edrilian…?”

“By extension, yes. Don’t provoke him. Don’t let him provoke you. Otherwise I’ll have to find some other, inorganic way of deciphering illusions.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mercuria simply says, and strides forwards. They clasp hands - agreement is met. Christopher knows he can trust her given word above all else.

“Thank you. You should get cleaned up,” Christopher says.

“Yes, sir. Try not to get killed while I’m away.”

“Better be quick about it, then. I’m fragile.”

Mercuria gives him a mocking, pouting look and strides past him. Christopher stands in the trashed dojo as the first golem finishes putting itself back together and gets to its feet. He feels a little disgusted with himself. He’s wasted way too much brainpower on the bizarre trivialities of man! He has an Expedition to organize!

Organizing an Expedition is a momentous occasion, even in the backwoods of the Depleted Lands. The Staves of Man are a fairly superstitious organization, with tomes of lore and fanfare to be acknowledged in the preparation for such a movement. Much of it involves various ceremonies and rituals to be performed in the weeks - Christopher cringes at that timeframe, as he’d wanted it to begin within the week, singular - ahead of the Expedition. Stuff like invoking various deities and spirits for good luck, while warding off those that would bring misfortune.

Christopher had been aware of all this beforehand, of course, he’d merely planned to shove it to the side or rush through it, instead. He understands the necessity of paying it some pittance of observation in order to maintain his image of a good, true, Gods-fearing Stave and Warden, but he doubts half the rituals and ceremonies performed would function as intended in the Depleted Lands. There aren’t fae out here to buy off, and the Depleted Lands were declared a Godless Zone decades ago by an official team sent by the Mausoleum. The man who influenced him to have them performed anyway, of course, was the ever irritable Prince Frank. He’d hate to give the presumably-actually-powerful-and-important-despite-what-he-says royal cause to think him lacking in his official duties. Besides, there were times he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being judged.

So three weeks pass instead of one. In that time, 3 more men go missing. Christopher’s suspicions crystalize ever further into certainty. On the final day of preparation, the Warden draws his own blood and smears it into a complex Vimitech array positioned near the facility’s main gate, as the gathered Staves look on in solemn silence. Finally, the majority of the Staves stationed in the Depleted Lands are organized and ready to undertake the region’s first Expedition.