2022-10-29: Seeker

A week's time was all they had. Today was the fourth day of that week's time.

The amount of time lost, mortal peril engaged, ground covered, and favor curried bought them a week's time with the facilities at an observatory in Pendrago. The less anyone thought about the exact deed that served as the tipping point to success, the better. It felt as though the forces of the universe themselves conspired to throw as many delays and detours as it could.

Ethius had scarce paid much attention to the additional conditions. Something about specific hours for the local students in which to observe some other heavenly phenomena that was ultimately irrelevant to his interests. The location wasn't his first choice, but Jay's mercantile acumen held the greatest sway here.

Those who bothered to maintain something resembling cordial relations with the taciturn man had cause to wonder why chasing down a telescope was more important than the imminent threat presented by Odessa's greatest superweapon, or the inevitable confrontation about to happen at Pentagulia over the Goddess' sweeping, destructive reforms and fruitless crusade. Spira now faced the risk of utter annihilation with the rejection of the cycle renewed by the Final Aeon.

Paraphrased... the worlds are about to burn again, and he's busy chasing clout and favor among a disparate range of observatory owners for the right to use their telescopes. He's been borrowing on credit for their patience for years, and somehow they have accumulated a net loss of clarity to who he is and why it's important they do as he says.

Filgaia and Lunar are in peril, in a capacity his observed specialties would be invaluable. Where were his priorities?

Only he was certain of the answer... and the next, inevitable distraction as he looked down from the swirling patterns of clouds about the Blue Star.

"Hey," came Homer's voice, as he looked up from the tiring work of writing down Ethius' observations as he brought forth the inevitable distraction.

That of Homer having decided now was a great time to make conversation.

"Do I need to repeat the last one?" Ethius asked, never looking away from the eyepiece of the large, cumbersome telescope. There were obvious improvements that could have been made in its construction he did not care to voice. His was not a question of concern, it was of concealed irritation.

"N-No, I got the last one, 'bout... south... west... Ignas," Homer has had to familiarize himself with a number of names in very short order, seated within a chair too small for his size. His thighs dug into the desk with numbing discomfort. The only flaw from the large map of Filgaia they purchased from an Adventurers' Guild certified cartographer was that their handwriting was illegible. ('Only,' in that it required Ethius to reiterate what was where with aggravating frequency.)

"If it is about the pain in your wrist," Ethius spoke, "I have already told you twice why I'm the one that needs to do the observing."

"It ain't 'bout that," Homer stopped to rub his wrist, hating to be reminded of this but helpless to raise much stink about it.

"It is small talk."

"...Yeahhhhh," Homer coughed twice as he felt seen in the moment, again. "Kinda. Since we got the whole night, 'n could keep it between us."

It would never be known to history as to whether Ethius rolled his eyes upon hearing that, as he made a few adjustments about the knobs of the large, stationary telescope. "I'm moving on to the Great Sea region."

"The stuff... Lydia talked 'bout." Homer said. "Uhh. How do I put it--"

"You will put down what I tell you to."

"I am, I am, I am! I've been." Homer sighed aloud, and coughed again. "They gotta dust this place. But..."

Ethius didn't interrupt, which has been misinterpreted several times over as 'keep going.' Another tally mark draws on that count.

"Sure been soundin' like ya made some good friends, last couple of years." Homer added one more to the misinterpretation count. "Kinda like what I'd been doin', once I figured I'd--"

"We have half a week left to find the Demetrioi. An esteemed local professor's return from Lastonbell and their scheduled lectures will take up half of that." Ethius interrupted. He wasn't going to take the recent reported re-ignited rancor between Rolance and Hyland for granted, even if a delayed return - even indefinite - would have rendered this issue moot. "The only 'figures' that are important are what I ask you to put down."

"Why the hurry?" Homer asked.

Ethius declined to voice concerns out loud if Homer were deaf, for what he just said.

"L-Look, I get it, Demetrioi was supposed ta go somewhere else--"

"They can't stay here." Ethius interrupted, without looking up from his share of the work. "Region of Meria Boule, starting from Damzen. The north-eastern half of the landmass--"

"All Demetrioi wants is just makin' the world 'round it happy. I, uh, can't speak for some of the stuff people've mentioned 'bout... Osedda, somethin' like that?" Homer scratched the side of his face. "Or that purple smog all over the place, or, uh, whatever's been goin' on in... Spirewood? But, does it even matter?"

Ethius lifted his gaze, and turned his head as his left hand subconsciously brushed a delicate dial from tension.

As if with comic timing, Homer had faced back down towards the map, oblivious to this change in Ethius' focus. "Lookin' more 'n more like we might be just makin' stuff worse, runnin' 'round like this." The large pig-like Beastfolk - at least by descriptive measures the people of Filgaia would use - puts on a tired smile. "Ain't anyone able ta ask 'bout a better chance fer startin' over, gettin' away from the whole crime family bus--"

Ethius' palm slammed down on the table atop the map. Normally, there'd be a good six footsteps between the telescope and the table. Homer did not hear a single one.

"Coming from you, of everyone." Ethius' voice suppressed the increased volume such tone and language oft demanded. "Earliest known criminal activity registered at age fourteen as an accessory to smuggling forbidden mass driver weapon components and six counts of second degree murder. Participation in private military corporations as an escort underneath no less than four false identities across no less than four different terrorist regimes across three systems." Ethius leaned closer. "The most severe charges detailing direct participation in an all-out assault against--"

"Big name Hesiods, yeah, twenty-odd years ago--" Homer, almost dismissive were it not for leaning back in his seat out of sheer intimidation. Each and every time Ethius got on his case, there was always a rising thought it was going to be the last. "What the hell is this even 'bout my rap sheet?! You're a Hesiod, c'mon, how're ya so familiar with--"

Ethius paused, for all of two seconds, having betrayed no awkwardness beyond this pause. "I am a professional, and I am thorough in my work."

"You're talkin' like I'm someone ya already /knew/." Homer threw up his hands. "That ain't a professional, that's--"

"You are still alive." Ethius lingered on those words. "You are still alive... because of this work."

Homer had heard that before. Every time, he went quiet. It always felt like a last warning.

"Is Lydia, Jay, Cyre, Lan... Eleanor, or... that clown lady, that other one who knew 'bout meta-thallium, and everyone else still alive because of this work?" Not this time.

"Yes." Ethius didn't hesitate to answer that.

"Even the Veruni people that took Demetrioi?"

Ethius did not answer that.

"They can't be havin' any problems with Demetrioi," Homer continued, as he set down the pen. "Or they'd be sendin' for me! I mean, I'm the one that fixed up 'n turned on Demetrioi, and it's been... hell, how long?" Homer scratched his head again. "Gotta be fine."

"It will stay 'fine' as soon as we locate them." Ethius backed away, back towards the telescope. "We have wasted enough time on your questions--"

Homer stood up and followed. His footsteps weren't light. Ethius had no reason to play ignorant to their approach.

"When you are done stretching your legs, which I will allow," perhaps Ethius wasn't playing after all, "no marked changes or patterns of concern to speak of in the southwestern half--"

Homer set his hand on the telescope. It jostled it enough to have seen Ethius jabbed in the face with the eyepiece.

"Enough. There ain't no point in doin' any more work for the Hesiods or the Mecones. Just let it /go/."

Even seconds later, Homer had his face pressed against the ground underneath Ethius' boot, blunt trauma in five different places, and a relentless cough.

"You nearly damaged the telescope." Ethius admonished as he corrected the course across the small islands that dotted the Lucadian Ocean south of Ignas. He was going to have to do the work himself, he thought, as the sight drifted across the landmass of Zoara.

And stopped.

"Homer."

Homer coughed, as if he had to give Ethius a reminder that he was half choking.

Ethius' tone of voice softened.

"Eastern Zoara. South-southeast of St. Heim."

Homer's reminder didn't reach him. He pounded his fist on the ground thrice in vain.

The tactiturn man ran to the table, grabbed the map, and swept up some other parchments with the grace and practice of a stage magician that mastered sleight-of-hand.

Homer rolled onto his back and looked up. "What? What."

"I found the Demetrioi." The mounting alacrity in Ethius' otherwise unflappable speaking tempo started to match with the haste in which he retrieved items of interest. "We're leaving."

"Really?" Homer wheezed, having struggled from the intellectual whiplash of being forced to stay put, and now the request to get going. "Couldn't ya have... not beat the tar outta me before--"

"Yes. Really." Ethius wasn't about to hear complaints about how they were supposed to share 'their findings,' such as they were, with the faculty here.

"Y'sure you don't wanna wait for... Eleanor to say, or... Cyre--"

"I would prefer to be ahead of Miss Eleanor's call to action." Ethius said, as he tore apart a few such parchments to be properly burned away later, perhaps born out of agitation rather than logical process. "The same goes for Mister Cyre's nose."

Homer, in a moment of lucidity, sat up and looked into the eyepiece to see what it is Ethius saw.

"Now." Ethius didn't give Homer a chance to comment on it.

"H-How 'bout we tell Lan? Or--"

"We leave right now." Ethius moved like a man who knew that the journey would take a week or more, yet with all the energy of someone who had a deadline of an hour.

Homer stood up, coughed some more, and staggered. He was granted the kindness of not having Ethius bodily drag him, if only that - but even he had to admit there was some excitement, some hope, in getting to see Demetrioi again.

"Direct the telescope's sight elsewhere," Ethius spoke as if doing so himself would have taken more time than either of them had, "we're leaving by ship the moment we reach the harbor."

Homer knew better than to ask further questions, or initiate further small talk. After what he saw through that telescope, he wanted to know that Demetrioi was okay.

It was that, or leave them at the mercy of those Ethius was working for, as the two of them made an exit (one hasty, one strained but almost as hasty) from the lives of Pendrago's astronomy students.