The Final Voyage: Part 2

Waiting

Soon afterwards, you dive deep into the Bazaar's chambers, farther than most would dare go - farther than Penstock's Wicket, farther than the lacre vats, farther than the deepest secrets. You descend as deep as the Bazaar's beating heart itself, before taking your perch, and waiting.

The other Masters know you'd participate in the voyage, and so now they know that until the Bazaar reaches the Sun, the only place you can be, is in the Bazaar. They will try to find you; perhaps to try and wrest the moonstone from your grasp, and control the Bazaar themselves, or perhaps they will just try to kill you. By hiding yourself here, you buy yourself time, and when they do find you, they will be unable to fight freely, for fear of harming and killing the Bazaar.

And if the Bazaar dies, all of you lose. This is the final gambit you can play: Mutually assured destruction.

(Not unlike the gambit that started all this, hm?)

Wait
It is the only thing you can do.

(We have plenty of time.)

You get as comfortable as you can. (Not too comfortable, I hope.) It's not unlike a stakeout of a heist target. (But it is, it is so much more.) You need to stay alert enough to notice anything, but you can't afford to be high strung every moment. (You will need energy to kill, after all.)

That thing is being talkative again; (You know what I am. You don't need to pretend.) and sometimes it's hard to say where your thoughts end (and where my voice begins). You never thought that taking the fifth candle for yourself would've led to this; (But you knew, you knew.) And you never thought that Lilac could not love the Bazaar. (We all contain multitudes, I was no exception.)

You briefly wonder if this phenomenon has anything to do with the Discordance. (Does it matter?) You wonder if you could eventually use something like this to save the Black. (What was done to it is so much more than what I did to myself.) Perhaps, if nothing else, you could find a way to replicate this for future use. (There will be no future, your reckoning approaches.)

Was it like this with your brother too? (He took me; just like you did.) You're starting to regret what you did to him.

There are six days left.

Waiting

The Bazaar's heart beats slowly - only one beat every couple hours. Every time it does, the entire chamber you are in ripples with monstrous shockwaves, and the river of blood below you rushes dangerously, as if it led to a waterfall. In between the beats, there is silence. You hear nothing that could indicate the others Masters approaching, but that is okay. You are patient. (You have to be.)

Wait more
(Not long now.)

(Patience.)

At this point, unless they decided to attack during one of the Bazaar's heartbeats, you are sure you could hear them coming even if you were asleep - the silence here is deeper than even the slow river's. You start to recite poetry in your mind; (There will be nothing left of you.) you start to remember stories you have read; (There will be nothing left of them.) you start to remember the many intrigues you've done. (There will be nothing left of the Bazaar.) You remember your time in Parabola, and your time in the Great Hellbound Railway. (There will be nothing left of the Sun.) You remember (There will be nothing left of anything.)

Will you please shut up? (You made me; what else could I do but love you?)

Now you're really starting to regret what you did to your brother. (No, you're not.) No, you're not.

There are five days left.

Waiting

You start to do math in your head: there are only so many places they could search. If all four of them were searching for you, they should have found you yesterday. If two of them were searching for you, they should have found you hours ago. Even if you assume they were taking breaks, there is no way they shouldn't have found you by now.

Are they simply not looking for you? You are at your most vulnerable right now, this is their best chance to kill you - and really, one of the only remaining chances. You imagine at least Stones would be searching for you, if only to add the Moonstone to its collection. You didn't expect nothing.

Search
(What are you doing?)

Unexpected

You first stretch out your wings, having grown sore from staying still for nearly three days. Once you are sure that you can move, you fly out of the tunnel, slowly and carefully, expecting them to be right outside. They are not.

When you rise through the chambers, you expect them to be behind every corner, and you make sure to check for even the tiniest sound that could give them away. The voice, mercifully, stays quiet. (I can't have you dying because of me.)

It takes you hours to reach the surface again. You are immediately blinded by the bright light of the Sun, so you double back quickly, in case they decide to attack. Your eyes slowly grow used to the luminescence as you step outside, somehow still alive and unharmed. What you see is all the remaining Masters atop the Bazaar's carapace, around a feast of meats that look familiar even from a distance.

You approach tentatively, clutching your moonstone close. Wines is the first to turn to you, "Oh, there you are." It pushes a portion closer to you. "Was wondering where you were hiding. Hungry?"

You blink, and look at the meat with a raised eyebrow. Eventually, after several seconds without response, you hear Mr. Iron hiss in annoyance; it takes the meat for itself, consumes it quickly and messily, and grabs several of its plaques, writing out a message:

"WE"

"DO"

"NOT"

"CARE"

It then pushes more food in your direction.

There are four days left.

The Masters of the Bazaar

The First King's fragment was lost in dreams; the Second's murder paid a debt.

The Third King's betrayal bought the future; the Fourth's lust bought his death.

The Fifth King's impatience took him to the skies; the Sixth's yearning brought him freedom.

And the Seventh we can now only Seek. (Together, together.)

Eleven pilgrims travelled from a cold and windy waste. Now, only three of them remain to see the tale to its finale.

There are four days left.

"failure and defeat; a fall from king to beggar"
There are four days left.

"glass-whispering. And worse: charity"
There are four days left.

"perpetration of the crimes of knife and of candle"
There are four days left.

"hoarding"
There are four days left.

A Word, Kept

You find Mr. Wines lounging in the Bazaar's carapace, a glass of wine in its hand, its wings spread out their fullest. Its gaze is fixed deeply onto the Sun, almost unblinking. When you approach, it tilts its head only slightly in your direction. It silently offers you a glass, but relents when you refuse.

"I can hardly believe that it's coming to an end." it speaks as soon as you sit next to it, "It's been my life for so long; I almost thought it'd never end." it drinks deeply from its glass, it's clear it has been drinking for a while; "Only a short time before I am free."

And what does it intend to do after? "That's the worst part: I don't know." it replies with a sigh, "What I lost will not come back. I have to start again from the beginning." it snorts, "I'm not sure I can do that, knowing what is on the other side."

It could always go back to the Neath. "Absolutely not." it is too drunk to waste energy glaring, "I worked for my freedom. I will not fold my wings any longer than I have to."

Then it could always try again. "Is that my only option?" Things could be different this time. "Do you really think so?"

You take its free hand, and press the broken remains of a tiny ring to it. It looks at it for a long time, "You remember?" You never forgot.

You have given it back its word; now, it can work on keeping it.

Its smile is a sad thing, "I am a Curator. It is in my nature to want more. We cannot change our nature." You have. You stand before Wines now, its equal in everything but birth, and yet you have done things it thought a Curator would never do. "My greed will win in the end." Then be greedy. Be greedy for kindness, be greedy for your subjects' happiness, be greedy for your whole kingdom's prosperity - not just yours. If greed is what defines you, then redefine what greed means. Change not yourself, but force the world to change to you.

A kingdom whose throne shines as brilliant as a star.
There are three days left.

The Masters of the Bazaar

The First King's fragment was lost in dreams; the Second's murder paid a debt.

The Third King's betrayal bought the future; the Fourth's lust bought his death.

The Fifth King's impatience took him to the skies; the Sixth's yearning brought him freedom.

The Seventh we can now only Seek. (Together, together.)

The Eighth King founded the Throne of Joy;

Eleven pilgrims travelled from a cold and windy waste. Now, only two of them remain to see the tale to its finale.

There are three days left.

"glass-whispering; And worse: charity"
There are three days left.

"perpetration of the crimes of knife and of candle"
There are three days left.

"hoarding"
There are three days left.

The Greatest Respect

Iron is in its chambers, working a sword against a grindstone, polishing the blade to a mirror's edge. It finishes shortly after you arrive, carefully placing it next to an array of other swords of equal quality. It grabs a small plaque as it turns to you. "YES?"

You are wondering what Iron will do once the journey is over.

It stops for a moment, before picking a notebook, "LONG AGO, I TRADED MY VOICE FOR A LAW" it starts, "IT IS ONE SEARED IN MY THROAT. NEVER REMEMBERED." a pause, "THERE WAS SOMETHING I NEEDED TO FORGET."

"BUT BEFORE I DID, I LEFT MYSELF NOTES. THE GAME OF KNIFE AND OF CANDLE." it taps its claw on the table, "I FORGOT FOR MY OWN SURVIVAL. A LAW TO ESCAPE ANOTHER. NOW, I WANT TO REMEMBER."

Wouldn't that put its life at risk again?

It responds by reaching past you for a wall, and pulling it apart as if it was a sliding door. Behind it, a machine that thrums with heat, and the unmistakable glow of the Red Science. "YOU WERE NOT THE ONLY ONE LEARNING WHILE IN THE NEATH." it writes again. "I WOULD ALWAYS BRING KNIFE AND CANDLE TO THE HIGH WILDERNESS. THIS WILL REMIND ME WHY I STARTED."

Does it have a final goal in doing this? "TO TEACH." To teach what? It simply shakes its head.

You tilt your head slightly, why is it being so forthcoming with information? This is far from the first time: Iron has always been your primary source for any of the Masters' secrets, it never offered great pushback to your requests.

For the first time in your life, you see Iron grin. "I LIKE TO KNOW MY ENEMIES. THE FASTER YOUR CURIOSITY IS SATED, THE FASTER YOU ARE NO LONGER A THREAT. THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN TRUE."

A blade to Murder a Sun.
There are two days left.

The Masters of the Bazaar

The First King's fragment was lost in dreams; the Second's murder paid a debt.

The Third King's betrayal bought the future; the Fourth's lust bought his death.

The Fifth King's impatience took him to the skies; the Sixth's yearning brought him freedom.

The Seventh we can now only Seek. (Together, together.)

The Eighth King founded the Throne of Joy;

The Tenth King Exchanged Courtesies;

Eleven pilgrims travelled from a cold and windy waste. Now, only two of them remain to see the tale to its finale.

There are two days left.

"glass-whispering; And worse: charity"
There are two days left.

"hoarding"
There are two days left.

Longing

You find Mr. Spices in a quiet frenzy, pouring over documents and drawing maps and calculations over new ones. Fire-resistant paper falls to the ground with each failed calculation, and it sighs in frustration each time. It only deigns to speak to you after thirty minutes of you politely waiting for an opening to start. "What?" Its tone is curt. It clearly does not want you here.

You are wondering what it will do once the journey is done. "Isn't it obvious?" No, it's really not. "I am trying to find out where Mr. Transport might be." it hisses, "You took my baby from me, so now I have to find it."

You do not waste time explaining your reasons for taking Mr. Transport through the Avid Horizon. You do not waste time responding to its streams of insults. You don't waste time reminding it that most of its drugs do not work in the light of the sun when it tries to calm itself down. You certainly don't waste time reminding it that its baby could simply be dead; "It is out there, I know it." is a phrase it utters without you ever needing to speak.

Instead, you take to its maps, and use what little information you have from the London that went to the skies to help it chart courses and calculate possible places that its now adult baby could be. It will never forgive you for what you did, but you don't need its forgiveness; you only need its promise that it will love its child unconditionally.

And that? That, Mr. Spices can give without hesitation.

Family.
There is one day left.

The Masters of the Bazaar

The First King's fragment was lost in dreams; the Second's murder paid a debt.

The Third King's betrayal bought the future; the Fourth's lust bought his death.

The Fifth King's impatience took him to the skies; the Sixth's yearning brought him freedom.

The Seventh we can now only Seek. (Together, together.)

The Eighth King founded the Throne of Joy; while the Ninth found his own.

The Tenth King Exchanged Courtesies;

There is one day left.

"hoarding"
There is one day left.

Unrepentant

You hear Mr. Stones before you see it. You pull your hand away as it tries to snatch your moonstone from behind. When you turn, it is shrugging. "Can't blame me for trying."

It takes steps beyond you, its many accessories jingling as it does, "Exquisite little stone you've created. Its power to replicate the dominion of the Judgements is truly impressive." It oversells the power of the stone, but you will not correct its misunderstandings. "But truly, I have no desire for sovereignty over a kingdom of one subject."

It stretches its wings, fully adorned with every diamond, gold and silver it could ever find. "Soon, I will soar the skies again. I will illuminate the cold between stars with my radiance; and I will grow my hoard, unto infinity."

Wouldn't that just make it a criminal again? "That is okay." it replies, "I will never again be an adornment, even if it keeps me away from the Judgements' light." it grins, "Who knows? Maybe one day, I will shine as brightly as one. After all..."

From below its wing, it produces a single shiny diamond, the size of its fist. The light of the south radiates brightly from its core. "There are so many things out there the Judgements don't know."

No regrets. Not ever.
It is time.

The Masters of the Bazaar

The First King's fragment was lost in dreams; the Second's murder paid a debt.

The Third King's betrayal bought the future; the Fourth's lust bought his death.

The Fifth King's impatience took him to the skies; the Sixth's yearning brought him freedom.

The Seventh we can now only Seek. (Together, together.)

The Eighth King founded the Throne of Joy; while the Ninth found his own.

The Tenth King Exchanged Courtesies; the Eleventh shone brighter than a star.

And you, King Twelve, have one final chapter you've yet to write.

"forgery of links; denial of the chain; kindness"
It is time.

A Chilly Future

You stand atop the Bazaar's tallest spire once again. The other Masters circle around the Messenger, gliding in celebration for the completion of their task. You see Mr. Stones leave first, flying far away from the light of the Judgement. Iron is next, a blade in one hand and its new machine in the other. Wines and Spices circle each other for a moment, contemplating something, before Spices breaks off into the sky, and Wines is the only one left.

From a distance, it turns to you, and even from here you can see its gaze soften toward you. It flies away shortly after; it has a whole future ahead of it.

The Masters had gained their pardons, but the Bazaar keeps moving, past an invisible point of gravity, and you finally dive back down. To the scab on the Bazaar's obsidian skin, seared silvery blue. The moonstone in your grasp, you press it against the Sigil, and scrape it across.

The blue flames almost ignite your webbing, but you recoil fast enough before it can cause any real damage. Now out of your hand, the stone sparks in silver, and in the moonlight that escapes its shell you can see another future: a future where all surviving Masters escape the Bazaar's final reckoning together, with you in tow. You hunt, you trade, you feast; despite everything, your group stays together, an uneasy but ultimately close found family, brought together by your shared service to the Bazaar. You could have had this future. You did, once.

But you chose differently long ago. In this future, you are the only one left.

You have lost 1 x Sovereign Moonstone (new total 0)
No Kings. No Masters. Only people.

The Fifth's Tales may Exalt the Suns

The Bazaar, now cognizant again, takes a moment to rediscover where it is. When it sees that it is before the Sun, you can almost see its spirit whither and die. The Sun needs not ask its subject to start; its mere presence compels it to.

First, comes the message. A repeat of the Sun's request, a tale of love, a declaration to another star. You have to close your eyes to not grow blind from the Sun's anticipation of the answer, as the Bazaar hesitates to do its final duty. When it comes, you do not need to know the Correspondence to feel the rejection in the air. You do not need to know be a Curator to feel the air grow colder, and to notice the light grow dimmer. You do not need to be a genius to know that something terrible is about to happen.

As soon as it finishes its delivery, the Bazaar's skin starts glowing - each Sigil, each love story, being sent to the Sun in an attempt to soften the blow. Stories of love and of loss, of survival and of fire, of rebirth and of faith. Each of the thousands upon thousands of stories collected from humanity: From Uruk. From Amarna. From Chichen Itza. From Karakorum. From London. From Paris. From Berlin. All in a vain, hopeless attempt to save the sun from its own grief.

It will not be enough. It was never going to be.

Tell it your Love Story Not a love of a person, or a love of a city. Not the love for learning, or the love of changing. No, this is a story of one man's love - for life, for the future, and the myriad joys that it brings.

A tough challenge
Your Watchful quality gives you a 32% chance of success.

A high-risk challenge
Your Shadowy quality gives you a 27% chance of success.

A high-risk challenge
Your Dangerous quality gives you a 28% chance of success.

A high-risk challenge
Your Persuasive quality gives you a 30% chance of success.

A very chancy challenge
Your A Scholar of the Correspondence quality gives you a 42% chance of success.

A chancy challenge
Your Magnanimous quality gives you a 60% chance of success.

A matter of luck: you need a miracle
Your Luck quality gives you a 1% chance of success.