Attis frowned. "I heard . . ."

He looked to the New Arrival, who returned Attis's glance with a curious tilt of his head. Attis smiled sadly. He was an easy person to read, and though it was obvious that he wasn't too thrilled about the topic, he was slightly more willing to accept it than he used to be.

"Well . . . at least he's conscious enough to walk and assume a name, now," Attis sighed, "So, I guess it's not all bad. Not like it would have been."

The New Arrival appeared to be very confused, but clearly wasn't putting much stock into what was going on. He understood what they were saying, but not the context, and probably didn't care too much, either.

"You just missed Nike, though," Attis said, a little less saddened when he wasn't talking about the task that Dagan and the New Arrival had been volunteered for, "He was here in a rush. I'm not really sure what's going on, but he said he wanted to see the Legionnaire and couldn't quite get in. If you're looking for him, he might be at the chateau?"

"I don't understand a lot of thing," he admitted rather bluntly, "but I'll do what I have to do and I’ll protect who I have to protect.”

Dagan could relate to why Attis was not very happy to the whole idea of sending the New Arrival off; in fact, Dagan had similar issues, too, but at least he was going to be there and that at least made things partially better.

“Really?” he asked needlessly. “Not making this easy on me,” he half-sighed and waved his hand: “I’m going to go try and catch up to him before he leaves! I’ll talk to you later, Attis!”

Before Attis could say another word, Dagan would scramble out of the cluttered room, backtrack through the judicial hall, and exit through the door, nearly flying down the front-steps. If the New Arrival could keep up, he was welcome to follow Dagan, but it was obvious the more impetuous man had not actually considered his tag-a-long in his decision to catch up to Nike.

"D-Dagan, wai--!" Attis called to him quickly.

But it was too late. Dagan was already gone. Attis sighed and held his forehead in his hands. The New Arrival looked from Attis to the door, then back to Attis again, who regarded the New Arrival with a half smile.

"Some things just never change, huh?"


When Dagan reached the gates to the chateau, he'd find that no one was there, either waiting or trying to get in. But someone had been there, that was for sure. There was a broken bottle just before the gate, and Dagan would only have to push upon the grating to realize that there was no longer a lock. It was entirely broken. Shattered. It looked like someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the entire middle of the gate.

And if he looked ahead, Dagan would see the double doors of the chateau were still wide open . . .

Despite taking off from Attis' place in such a hurry, Dagan really didn't appear to be tired when he finally reached the chaetau, and not even sweat had started to bead atop his brow. Forgetting that, though, Dagan felt himself drawn back to when The Seeker first brought him to the chateau, and it was just as intimidating a building now as it was then, too.

Unfortunately, now that he was here, Dagan really had no idea how to enter the grounds; in fact, from what he could remember, The Seeker did not even have to use a key to open the gate, or touch the gate, for that matter: he thought about this for a moment, before grabbing a hold of the gate; the sounds of crunching glass came from underfoot, but Dagan was far too busy to really pay attention to them.

Pulling back and then pushing forwards, Dagan gave the gate a fierce shake, though he made sure to only use a portion of his strength, but even still, he was pretty alarmed when it offered no true resistance to his attempt at ... dislodging it.

“T-that ... What a shoddy gate,” he said, looking around, and walking towards the chateau: I hope nobody thinks I broke it..., he finished in thought.

“Now where’d Nike get off to?” he asked aloud and headed towards the open door of the mansion, deciding that, that was where Nike had headed; after all, was that not where he wanted to go?

Dagan shrugged.

The main hallway was empty, even devoid of light. Every one of the lanterns and candles were blown out, casting much of the corridor in darkness. Dagan was alone there, but it was clear that the Legionnaire's throne room was occupied. The doors were partially open and an odd light spilled out into the room. The further Dagan traveled, the more-- and better --he'd hear the commotion within the Legionnaire's chamber.

"Nike-- las . . ." a voice groaned, low and paternal in tone-- a voice much like that of the Legionnaire's, "Why? What do you stand to gain . . .?"

"More than I would here."

"Don't be a fool-- you and Seras . . . you could not handle the weight of the world beyond . . ."

"Maybe so, but we still had purpose there."

There was a long pause.

"I'm going."

"No," said the Legionnaire, "I've told you time and time again, Nike. You are forbidden from entering the--"

"Heh. Don't act like my king." The doors were shoved open, bathing the corridor in an azure-white glow. A silhouette stood within the light. "I sure as hell never voted for you."

And with this, the silhouette walked the course of the corridor. Dagan wouldn't be able to see him clearly until he was close enough-- but sure enough, this man was Nike. He was dressed vastly different than the last Dagan saw of him; a casual wardrobe was discarded for cloth underclothes, a steel breastplate, and shoulder armor. A longsword was sheathed at his hip and he wore a steel buckler upon his left forearm.

When close enough, Nike would pass Dagan a look-- and nod --of acknowledgment, but nothing more. He'd pass wordlessly and leave the chateau behind all the same . . .

Sense-wise, Dagan could hear and see pretty well; it wouldn't be long before he was close enough to the Legionnaire's room that he could actually make out what was being said, but being able to hear it and being able to make sense of it were pretty different things, to be sure.

Without decreasing or increasing the speed at which he walked, Dagan came to about half-way towards the Legionnaire’s chambers before the doors were thrown open and Nike emerged, and leaving soon after; it was this that caused Dagan to stop walking entirely, turning around to face Nike’s back, and then turning back towards the door; he didn’t know what to do, who to talk to; and this left him standing in the middle of the corridor, facing one of the hardest conscious decisions of his life.

Where the confliction came from, he could not say, why he was conflicted was, too, unknown to him, but the entire reason he had come just walked out of the building and he was not about to let his time get wasted like that.

“Nike!”

He called out in that warm, friendly and booming voice of his; he followed after Nike: he still had some god damn questions to ask.

Nike had left the chateau already by the time Dagan finally called for him. He kept on walking, but at a vastly slower pace, until he finally reached the gate. It was there that he stopped, so close to the gate that he could reach out and touch it, but unwilling to leave.

Yet.

"Yeah?" Nike asked noncommittally.

He was standing still, but hadn't yet turned around to face Dagan. He probably didn't plan to anytime soon, either. But he was here and he was stopped, and that was about the most Dagan could ask for right now. Chances were Nike wanted to leave in the near future. If Dagan had something important to ask, getting it over with soon was probably for the best. Nike wasn't going to be sticking around for very long . . .

Dagan stopped just a few feet short of Nike and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking back at the chateau, and then back at Nike: “Man, I have been looking all over for you! Literally! And what was up back there, anyways? Something happen?”

Although he had heard the commotion at the chateau, he still didn’t quite understand it, and if something was bothering Nike, Dagan figured he’d hear him out. Of course, he also had questions to ask Nike, too...

“What’s this other world like?” he asked bluntly; he didn’t add much more to that, but he would if Nike asked why Dagan wanted to know.

"A mess I'm washin' my hands of," was all Nike said to the first question.

He didn't want to go into it. Dagan would just have to go see for himself if he truly wanted to. Nike wasn't going to stop him. But he wasn't going to stick around, either . . .

"The other world-- the real world --is harsh and cruel," Nike replied. He stared out past the gate and recalled the worst that world had to offer. "But there's a lot more good there than you could ever find in this place. Unlike us, everyone's got a reason to exist."

If Dagan had no further questions, then Nike fully intended to leave. He'd say nothing at all, though; he'd stay with his back to Dagan, push through the gate, and disappear into the endless fog of their world. Not even a goodbye would be shared. And as rude as that might seem, Nike definitely didn't quite seem to be himself right now. He was stressed and anxious, even if he did a good job of not showing it. He was trying to get away from this place as quickly as possible, even if he played himself off as casual.

After all, if he didn't rush out of here, he'd have more trouble than his half-armor and longsword could possibly prepare him for . . .

By the time Nike finished speaking, however short it was, Dagan honestly wanted to hit him, but the act was restrained; instead, he remained quiet, allowing Nike to leave in peace, and aside from a moment of turning back to face the chateau once more, he, too, would follow in Nike’s footsteps and leave the area. Maybe if Dagan knew what he, Sera, and Nike once were, he’d have intervened, or even simply spoke more to Nike; alas, as it stood right now, he didn't, and he really had no right to say or ask anything of Nike.

“A reason to exist, h-uh?” he smiled to himself as he repeated the words a few more times; he really liked how they rolled off his tongue, and though the concept was a bit beyond his ability to grasp, he still felt like he got the gist of what it meant. From the looks of it, this real world wasn’t nearly as harsh or cruel as Nike implied; after all, if it gave everyone a purpose, how bad could it be?

Unsure of what to do, Dagan started walking, it wasn’t aimless, he was heading in the general direction of Attis’ place, but it was not a particularly conscious decision on his part; frankly, all Dagan could really think about right now was the Legionnaire’s task and where it would set him:it was the new things he could see and do, the new people he could meet and talk to, but more importantly, it was Nike's last words that got him almost pumped about what was to come.

But there was the matter of the New Arrival...

I’ll have to work it out as I go, he thought to himself.

By the time Dagan reached the house of justice, the double doors had long since been thrown open. Attis stood at the top of the stairs, his suit half thrown on. He was still in the process of buttoning up his jacket as he hurriedly descended the stairs. Until he saw Dagan, that is . . .

"Dagan!" Attis called out to him before Dagan would even have a chance to make first contact.

Attis raced down the steps to meet Dagan. He was wild-eyed and disheveled, and put his hand on Dagan's arm, not forcibly or harshly, but as a silent suggestion that he needed Dagan to stay in place for a moment and talk with him. The New Arrival poked his head out from inside Attis's residence, and as soon as he saw Dagan, started to calmly make his way down the stairs, though he was much slower than Attis, and probably wouldn't be down there for another moment or two.

"D-- did you find Nike?" Attis sounded rushed and urgent, the most urgent he'd sounded since back when he was afraid they'd be unable to locate and rescue the New Arrival.

Something was seriously wrong . . .

"Did I find? -- Yeah, I found him," Dagan replied casually enough; he was a little put off by Attis’ tone and the way he seemed almost panicked, but not enough to worry: Maybe Attis had heard about Nike and didn’t want him to leave or something.

“We spoke for a second and ... uh, parted ways (if you can call it that). Why do you ask?" he asked sincerely, "did something happen?"

Peering over Attis, Dagan waved a hand at the New Arrival, greeting him, but he quickly returned his attention to the elder of the two.

"I--" Attis wrinkled his brow.

He wanted to speak with great urgency, but Dagan seemed a bit put off by it. He had to force himself to calm down. The only problem was, the situation at hand made it very difficult to stay calm. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and released a sigh.

The New Arrival reached the bottom of the stairs in this time, and ultimately stood by Attis's side. He was more than willing to follow Attis around, but he was hard pressed to understand the necessity of running around-- a problem he'd probably face if he were following Dagan around, too.

"The Seeker informed me just a moment ago," Attis said seriously, "That Nike's committed treason. He's . . . he's attacked the Legionnaire."

The New Arrival tilted his head to the side. For some reason, the word "treason" sounded like it should have been important. Like he should have somehow known what that meant. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though. But there were a lot of things like that in this world. Nothing to be too worried about.

. . . for him.

"As he told me, when he arrived at the Legionnaire's throne, he found him in dented and scarred armor, barely able to stand up, and slowly making his way for the door-- with only his own sword as stability." And by the way Attis said this, the sincerity in his voice, it was clear that he was not gifting Dagan a pack of lies. As far as Attis knew, Nike had truly attacked their king.

Dagan's face twisted in thought immediately upon hearing Attis' explanation: that couldn't be right, was all he could think of.

“What, no? I, Nike and I just parted not that long ago. I was inside with him, and they were talking, and... ---” Dagan’s words trailed off for a moment as he silently recalled what had happened in the chateau. “I, I never actually did go inside the legionnaire’s room, I met Nike in the hallway... But, everything seemed fine.”

Just the thought that someone like Nike could actually harm the Legionnaire was alarming, but to actually win!?

“He, -- how bad is this?”

Briefly, he considered simply chasing Nike down and getting an explanation that way, he knew where Nike was going and how he’d get there, but even as impulsive as Dagan was, he knew enough to not run off without Attis’ opinion.

Dagan had met Nike at the chateau? Then he must have met him right after it happened. Attis wanted to ask Dagan why he didn't go to the Legionnaire's room if he'd thought something was wrong--but now wasn't the time for that. And it wasn't Dagan's fault, anyways. He had nothing to do with this. Attis would have just been snapping under pressure if he'd said anything about that . . .

"It . . . it's bad," Attis replied solemnly.

With a heavy heart, he lifted his hand up to palm his forehead. He'd barely even gotten out of the door and he felt like he was going to die from the pressure.

"It's-- this's never happened before," he said, "No one's ever attacked one of us-- the Legionnaire, the Seeker, the Maestro, or I."

But it was still clear to him what this was. The Legionnaire was their king. Directly assaulting him was treason without a reasonable doubt.

"I have no idea what'll happen to Nike," Attis sighed, "If we catch him."