All Epilogue 13 - Dinner with the Family

The Webber family sat around Friedrich’s sizeable dinner table: him, his brother and two sisters, all of their significant others, and his mother. Byron, their father, had passed away some years ago, and Marigold spent much of her time now visiting friends and family; the siblings’ children were all grown teenagers, and had long since excused themselves from the table. Pierce vaguely wished that he also could leave, since he found his brother’s myopic and loudly asserted worldview aggravating; his hearing was poor without his Ears lacing the room; and it was difficult to follow the numerous conversations that occurred around him while also considering the umpteen minuscule, and frankly more interesting, tasks that he as the Few was accomplishing elsewhere. On top of that, he had to focus on keeping himself flat on his chair; at least the meal was over, so he didn’t also have to maintain an illusion that he was eating. The Director could split his attention many ways, but this was almost silly. Suddenly, Reid’s voice pierced through the murmur of conversation, “But did you hear the news? The government allowed some of those extraplanar freaks back into Asanon, can you believe it?”
Ginny’s husband Rodger, the target of Reid’s question, looked surprised. “No, really?” 
“I couldn’t believe it either, but apparently they let three in as part of some sort of study,” he replied. He scoffed, “Hope it’s one of those studies that ends with a scalpel and a trash bag, if you know what I mean.” Mila glanced over to her husband, who was visibly clenching his jaw. She made a worried frown and was about to say something, but Reid talked over her, “I mean, the monsters destroyed half of Asanon, and now the government’s letting them back in? What do we even elect these people for?”
“Do you have to bring this up every time?” Pierce asked tiredly from across the table. “They aren’t doing anything. Just let it go.”
“Aren’t doing anything?!” Reid exclaimed loudly in a confrontational tone, “How can things like that not be up to something?! You’ve ever seen one up close, Pierce? I’ve seen one with my own eyes!” The frustration in Pierce’s expression was evident to everyone there, excepting possibly his brother, who continued, “Monsters like that don’t belong in Asanon, or anywhere near civilized people; they should be back in Hell where they belong. The freaks declared war! Destroyed our cities! And the government wants me to just sit quietly while they let them crawl back in and invade again?! I don’t think so.” He scoffed again, “I don’t see why the Wizard Council doesn’t just disintegrate the lot of ‘em. Probably the northmen, is my bet. Superstitious savages are probably worshipping the damned things, thinking they’re their dead grandpas or something, stopping honest men from doing what needs to be done to get the alien garbage off our land.” He took a drink and turned back to his brother, “Pierce, how many adventurers do you think you’d need to wipe them out? The government’s not doing anything, the wizards aren’t doing anything; I bet we could hire enough freelancers to go and get the job done. How many people do you have on contract?”
Pierce sighed deeply through his nose, frowning. Mila looked at him with concern as he replied, “One: no. Just...no. Two: CSIS isn’t an army. Three: even if it was an army, it doesn’t have the numbers to be a good one. Four: illegal doesn’t even start to cover the implications of marching a platoon of adventurers across national borders to commit genocide.” By this point, everyone else had abandoned their own conversations in lieu of watching the two men argue.
“Pfft,” Reid scoffed. “If the government won’t do its job protecting the people, then the people have to take protection into their own hands. And that is what CSIS is for.” 
Pierce frowned, and muttered, “CSIS is for private issues, not international warfare.”
Genevieve piped in, “The government did get rid of those horrible eyeball things though, at least. Those things were horrible! Ugh!” She shuddered, “I still worry that I’ll find one in my closet.”
“There aren’t any in your house, Ginny,” Pierce said dryly. “No one’s ever seen them move, and we’ve all looked through every square inch of your house..
“Just because no one’s seen them doesn’t mean the can’t!” she retorted. “Maybe they roll! Maybe they’re magic and move when no one’s watching them!” Shivering again, she exclaimed, “Ugh! Creepy, awful things. Just blinking and staring. Eww! Eww eww eww.” 
She drank heavily from her wine glass as Pierce sighed again. “Honestly? Every time? Do we have to talk about the Few, every time?” he asked rhetorically and mostly towards his wife, who winced sympathetically at him.
Reid interjected again, “The eyeballs are only part of it, though, right? They’re spies! The government doesn’t do anything right, so who knows how many of those things they missed?”
Pierce feigned rubbing his face so as to whisper almost inaudibly, “12,486.”
“They could be hiding in alleys, abandoned houses, trees! They’re small, and Ginny’s right, what if they do move? How many of them are watching us, gathering information for when they invade again? And the government’s just letting them in now! It’s only a matter of time until they’re attacking again, and if the country’s not going to stop them, then it’s up to the people to do it.” Knocking back the rest of his drink, Reid asked, “How many adventurers do you have?”
“What?”
“How many? The freaks might have more numbers, but I’ll bet enough proper adventurers, sneaking in and attacking ambush style, could get past the northmen without causing a problem. Narcissus, he knows wizards; we could finance it.”
It was finally someone else’s turn to interject: Kassandra asked incredulously, “Are you seriously suggesting we finance war?”
“I’m saying that, as some of the wealthiest private investors in Asanon, we do our part to protect its people!” The table fell to argument, as Kass, Jennifer and Mila had it out with Reid and Rodger on the topic of war financing. Reid’s wife returned to her discussion with Ginny regarding some recent gossip, and Pierce turned his attentions away again. Marigold sat quietly for the most part, sipping her after-dinner tea; her gaze lingered frequently upon her youngest son.
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After dinner, they all retired to the sitting room. Pierce had excused himself for a few moments under the guise of using the washroom, but in reality, he teleported back to Tamatsiatik in order to more particularly guide some Arms in tasks they were undertaking. When he returned a scarce few minutes later he reapplied his illusion and walked back towards where he had left the others. He could hear Reid talking loudly; it didn’t take good hearing to notice him, even before he had had a couple of drinks. As he passed down the hallway, he heard his mother’s voice from a side room. “Percival,” she said, stopping him. “Come in here please.”
“Hmmn?” he looked inquisitive as he stepped into the room: a small study that wasn’t in active use, instead set up pristinely in case visitors happened to look in it. Marigold sat almost stiffly in a chair, looking at him formally. “What is it?” As he asked, the door closed behind him. The sound made him turn, and he could see that he was flanked by Kassandra and Jennifer, both of whom held wands levelled at him. Kass had an almost uncertain air about her, as though she didn’t know what was going on any more than Pierce did, but Jen’s expression was fierce and accusatory.
Marigold kept a calm, even expression, and asked politely, “I would like to ask who you are, and what you are doing here.”
“I...what?” Pierce fumbled, looking between the three of them, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m Percival. Who else would I be?”
Jennifer frowned, “Bull.”
“Language, dear,” Marigold said to her, nonplussed. She turned her attentions back to Pierce, “I would like to believe you, but I have seen through many illusions in my day. I will admit that I can’t see through it now…”
“I can,” Jen interrupted.
She continued calmly, “But I’ve been noticing you acting rather strangely for a while now, and tonight I happened to glance through your illusion. You must have reapplied it when you stepped out.” Pierce looked between the three women, with no small amount of restrained panic. Marigold said, “So, I am going to have to ask you again: who are you, what are you, that you are impersonating my son?”
“I...I am him!” he replied, still looking between them, worried at the wands pointed at him. “I swear! I am Percival Webber; please, just put those down.”
Jen pointed the wand accusatively, “I can see you! Don’t try and lie.”
“I’m not lying! If I wasn’t Percival, why would I bother impersonating him?” He became more assured as he began to argue, “Let’s be honest; I am not the choice candidate for identity theft in this family. If anyone was going to bother, they’d be doing it for, what, money or influence? Friedrich is the wealthy...well, no, if you actually wanted money, you’d go for Cousin Orson, but in this family, Friedrich is the one with the money, and Rodger is far more connected. Why on Materia would anyone pick me over almost literally anyone else with the Webber name? It wouldn’t be to go to dinners to listen to Reid talk, that’s for certain! There is literally no reason for anyone other than me to come here tonight, or to any other family dinner. It’s not like I haven’t made up excuses to not come before; no one would have batted an eye if I didn’t show up.”
The three considered this for a minute, before Kass shrugged, “He makes a point. If he is someone else in a weak illusion, why bother risking getting caught? It wasn’t even a very good dinner, and it’s not like it was important discussion or anything.”
“There are plenty of reasons…” Jen said, not taking her eyes off of Pierce.
“If you honestly thought I wasn’t Percival,” he asked, “why didn’t you ask Mila about it? Where is she?”
“If you’ve tricked her,” Jen said, “we didn’t want to surprise her or cause a scene. Or have you using her as a hostage or something. Mrs. Webber saw through your illusion and told us; now that I know what I’m looking for, I can see she’s right.”
“She’s just with the others,” Kass explained. “Mom told us because she wanted a second opinion before telling Reid and Ginny.” She winced slightly, “You know how they get.” Pierce returned the expression.
Marigold sat, as patient as always, and picked up her teacup. “I will have the explanation now, then. If I thought you were not Percival, which I have not yet fully discounted, I would have made a much larger fuss earlier tonight. But fusses are not something I care for, as you may well already know, and you’re right: your behaviour is stranger if you aren’t my son than if you are.” She sipped her tea, “So explain yourself.”
Pierce looked between the wands again, hands still up, before sighing, “...I really wish I had a more notable witness than Cress…” He launched into a retelling of the story, focusing on the beginning and end and skipping over the vast majority of what had happened over the six month journey: the werewolves, the gnolls, the body-swapping, the Firehawk. He told them of how the All had come; how Harlequin had recruited them and led them to the boat and to the Isle of the Gods; how they had searched for a solution, and had found it in the moon pearls; how they sealed the rifts in Akroum; how they returned to Mirilarin, and how they had repelled the All for good, culminating in the creation of the Few. He finished his story with what he had been doing since, and his tone was rife with resignation: the Few had not been particularly well-received, and shame crept through their collective minds.
Having finished her tea a while ago, Marigold placed her cup on the table. Her expression was unreadable as she regarded Pierce. After a spell of silence, she said simply, “Take off your illusion, please. Looking through glamours irritates my eyes.” With a slight bow of his head, Pierce complied, revealing his true form. Only his sister blinked with some surprise, having apparently never seen through the illusion. Silence filled the room until Marigold stood up, saying, “I had my doubts, of course. It’s not everyday someone is turned into something else.” She walked over to stand in front of Pierce, still talking, “But it isn’t unheard of. You mentioned that eidolon though; Sienna. No one knew that name, not outside your father and I. We made quite certain of that.”
“He could be a mind-reader,” Jen said warily. “He could have taken his memories.”
“Jennifer, dear,” the elderly woman said tiredly, looking at her, “I know you’re trying to help, but I am an old woman. My husband is gone. If my son is dead, and a mind-reading, memory-stealing, shapeshifting creature has decided to duplicate him entirely and take his place, I am willing to pretend as much as he is.” She looked back up to Pierce’s face, which held a curious mix of emotion. She smiled, a hint of sadness and reproach in her eyes as she put her hand to his face. “Oh, Percival…” she sighed, “This is why we didn’t want you getting mixed up with adventurers.” 
He gave a small, broken chuckle, smiling sadly as he said, “Well...better me than the world, right?”
“Ohh,” she exclaimed as she pulled him into a hug that he gratefully reciprocated. Meanwhile, the other two women had lowered their guards, watching respectfully. 
When they pulled away, Pierce glanced towards Kass, who was looking at him critically. Catching his eye, she nodded, “...Mom’s right. You could be a liar...but so was Percival, so, what’s the difference, really?” She smirked, “You also both have awful beards.”
Pierce cocked his head and grinned sardonically, “Thank you. Thank you for your kind sartorial judgement. I have the beard because it is more sensitive to touch than my skin is.”
She returned his sarcastic affect, “That’s really weird.”
His smile turned self-deprecating as he said, “Weird doesn’t begin to describe me by half.”
“Wait, wait, hold up,” Jen said, interrupting their back-and-forth. He turned to look at her as she said, “...You’re a Few.”
There was no hesitation or delay from him, “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed questioningly, “You don’t look like one. I mean, you don’t look human either, but you don’t look like the rest of them.”
“That doesn’t change that I am one,” he replied easily.
Jen crossed her arms, “Can you prove it?”
He glanced over to the others, “...If no one is going to be upset by another one.”
“What are you going to do?” Kass asked with interest.
Marigold had returned to her chair, and waved him away, “You’re a grown man now, Percival. If you want to do magic, do what you want. I can’t stop you.”
Pierce said dryly, “I just don’t need anyone screaming.”
“I’ve seen scarier things than those,” Marigold retorted. “As long as it’s well-behaved and trained to be indoors.”
He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh my gods, we’re people. People. It’s not a hard concept.” He made a few gestures, and one of the Arms summoned to the room. Kass and Jen immediately moved towards it, intrigued; Marigold appeared unimpressed. 
The Arm, with its four faces about its head, looked at both women simultaneously. “Hello,” it said, in a voice that was accented and wary, that of someone who was learning a language.
The couple returned the greeting, and Kass continued, “I’m Kassandra. This is Jennifer.”
“Yes,” the Arm replied matter-of-factly. “You are the Director’s sister, which means you were made by the same individuals that made him. You are her wife; you love her, as we love Mila.” It only ever spoke with one mouth at a time, but as it switched back and forth from talking to Kass and Jen, it used whichever mouth was pointed towards the subject of their speech.
The women glanced at each other, their expressions speaking volumes of their uncertainty and intrigue. “Yes, that’s right,” Kass said. “...You, love Mila?”
The Arm was still matter-of-fact, “We do.” It didn’t seem to be lacking the capacity for emotion, but rather just seemed to be very blunt and honest, almost naive. 
Kass looked confused, “Are you Percival?”
“No. I am an Arm. Percival is the Director. I am not the Director, and the Director is not an Arm. We are both Few, and the Few love Mila.”
Pierce added, “It’s hard to describe how we are, honestly. We are different people, or at least, we have the capacity to be different people, but we all have the capacity to be the same person, at the same time. Some of us want to be different people; some of us are just the Few.”
“Huh…” Jen muttered before asking, “What’s your name?”
With the same matter-of-factness, it replied, “I am an Arm of the Few. I will be a Manager.”
“Don’t you have a name for yourself though?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Kass glanced at Pierce before asking the Arm, “Didn’t he give you one?”
“I am not self enough, to have a name. Selves have names. The Director has a self; he is named Percival Webber. I would like a self, I think, and when I have one, it will have a name. But it cannot be named until it is. Things that aren’t can’t have names. It would be a guess, to name something that wasn’t yet. When I am, we will name me.” 
Jen blinked, “...Huh.”
“But, what do we call you?” Kass persisted gently.
“I am Few. I am Arm. The Director believes that I am Manager, but we are not entirely certain I am learned enough to be that yet. We are not certain any of us are Managers yet. But some of us will certainly be Managers.”
Jen looked confused, asking, “Managing what? Directing what?”
“The Few.”
Pierce interjected, “We...are a bit pedantic.”
Jen inched ever closer, scrutinizing the Arm. “...Can I?” she asked, holding up her hand. The Arm held out its own in turn, its own face emotionless but holding a sort of curiosity about it. She touched it lightly, investigating, before she began to ask a series of questions about its biology: could it see out of all four eyes at once? Were its mouths connected, and how? Is it made of metal, or flesh? Did it have no body, just robe? Did it breathe, eat, sleep, dream? How was it floating?
As she asked the latest question, Kass had turned her attention back towards her brother. “...How are you floating?” she reiterated, directing it towards him. 
“We just do,” the Arm replied.
Pierce shrugged slightly, “We just do. I have to make myself not float, and pretend to walk.”
Both people seemed to be taking the conversation easily, as she continued, “Huh. What about your eyes?”
“What about them?”
She leaned over slightly, “I can see they’re different, around the glasses.”
“Oh,” he said, taking them off. “I needed a stronger figment, since our mind interferes with illusory eyes. If they’re being worn, they just show a pair of eyes in the lenses, and cover what’s behind.” He passed them to her, and she made to put them on after giving them a cursory glance. 
“They’re so dark; how do you see...oh dear gods,” she blinked and made an exclamation. Taking them off and passing them over, she said, “Jen, look through these things!”
Her wife turned her attention away from the Arm and took them, “Why? What are they whoa!” She cut herself off as she put them on, looking around the room. “I can count the threads in the rug!...And what is that colour?” 
“We’re very close to blind, so I made them to enhance colour vision and acuity,” he explained. “So, you’re probably seeing colours you usually can’t see. And it took that much enhancement to get my vision almost back to twenty/twenty.” 
“Gods, then you must be blind,” she said. She grinned at her wife, “I can see your pores, honey.” Taking the glasses off, she handed them back to Pierce and considered his eyes for a moment, but said nothing. She turned back to the Arm as he put the glasses back on. “So, what do you…”
Suddenly, the door opened and Reid stepped in. “What are you all talking about in…” his loudly-spoken question died on his lips as he took in the scene, seeing the Arm floating among his sister and sister-in-law, and the strange creature that appeared like his brother in some regards but not others. There was a tense moment of unbroken silence as everyone simply stared.
Marigold answered her son’s truncated question calmly, “We’re looking at one of these Few things your brother brought here. Apparently they’re his pets; it explains why he was getting so sore whenever we brought them up.” Reid stared at the Arm, which shrank back at the man’s presence. Suddenly, he jumped back into the hallway, returning in a flash with a sword he had pulled off of a display. He swung wildly at the Arm, who fled deeper into the room as Pierce threw out his arm to block the weapon. The blade clanged against his forearm, bouncing off. “Freidrich!” Marigold snapped. “Don’t fight your brother in the house!”
Pierce muttered sarcastically under his breath, “No, no, Mother, no need to be actually concerned...” as Reid’s sword bounced off again.
“What are you made of, freak?!” Reid shouted, lashing out again.
“I’m wearing armour, thank you,” Pierce retorted, tugging the sleeve of his jacket back to reveal the Dragon King’s bracer. “So, when Mila next asks why I wear these things everywhere: this. Because this apparently happens.” Freidrich kept lashing at him, his expression angry and afraid. Jen and Kass urged him to stop, but couldn’t approach with the sword flailing around the small room. They couldn’t escape either, with the fight blocking the only door, so they retreated to where Marigold sat; the elderly woman watched with great disdain the mens’ behaviour, not bothering to reprimand them further over the din made by them and the two younger women. “Reid! Stop! Just...stop!” Pierce tried to talk to him. “Someone is going to get hurt!” The Arm moved out from its hiding spot as Pierce spoke, positioning itself between the fight and the women.
With a deft twist, Reid’s sword slipped past Pierce’s defense. The blade didn’t have the force to puncture deeply, especially not through the Director’s exceedingly solid body, but it still made a visible gash in his side that neither bled nor seemed to cause him any pain. A black tear rolled down Pierce’s face, but he was otherwise unfazed, still trying to get his brother to stop.
Reid’s eyes flew open in panic at the sight of the wound, and with a cry, he wrenched the sword backwards. As he did, he misgauged his own strength, and it slipped out of his grip, hurtling towards where the women sat. The two younger women screamed, but the Arm grabbed the blade as it flew, preventing any disasters. “We are very sorry…” it said to them sadly, its one face showing remorse while on the opposite side it watched Reid attentively, grasping the sword by the blade in three of its hands, obviously with no intent to use it or let it go.
Kass and her wife were stunned with fear. Marigold, however, was still little more than displeased. “This is Freidrich and Percival’s problem, not yours,” she said, “though they are not acting appropriately at all. Get them to stop; they obviously aren’t listening to me.”
“We are trying, but he is very upset…” it said hesitantly. 
Meanwhile, Reid looked around wildly between those in the room, breathing heavily. “Can you please calm down now?” Pierce tried again. Reid’s gaze settled on him, and he swung wildly with his fist in an attempt to punch him. Pierce dodged out of the way again, but Reid kept up his ill-trained assault. Pierce still tried to stop him, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Genevieve, Rodger, Mila and Marilyn, Reid’s wife, all ran down the hall, summoned by the shouting and screaming. “What’s going…?” Genevieve cut herself off with an ear-piercing scream as she saw the Few; almost as soon as she had entered, she turned and fled. Rodger saw Reid fighting, and lunged in to assist him without question. The other two looked stunned, trying to figure out what was going on. 
“Alright! This is enough!” Pierce declared loudly. He pushed back the other two men, ignoring their efforts to bar or injure him, their fists entirely unable to hurt him in any meaningful way. As he floated towards the door, he made a passive gesture with his hand: a circle of light appeared on the wall nearby. He leaned out and repeated the gesture; suddenly, Genevieve pitched forwards through the hole, sprawling on the floor. He continued making gestures as the Arm dropped the sword and moved suddenly towards Reid. Its four, multi-jointed arms wrapped about him, grappling him securely with one hand over his mouth. Two more Arms were summoned in short order, repeating the maneuver on Genevieve and Rodger. All three people struggled, but were unable to escape their grip. Pierce straightened himself, repairing his damaged clothes with a final spell, before turning to everyone and declaring, “Is anyone else going to run around screaming or try to kill anyone? Hmm? No? Can we talk like civilized people again?” The three bound people continued to struggle furiously, their yells muffled through the hands of the Few; Kass, Jen and Marilyn looked terrified, the latter clinging to Mila, the former to each other. No one said anything that could be understood. “Good!” he exclaimed. “Let’s go back to the room we all fit in, shall we?” He summoned another Arm with an off-handed gesture that bowed and formally held its hand out to Marigold to help her up.
She took its hand, saying, “Thank you. All this shouting and stress is terrible; no way for people to act.” As she walked past Reid, holding the arm of the Few, she shook her head, “I thought I raised you better than that.” When she got to Pierce, she added, “Your pets are very well-trained.”
With the look of resignation shared by those who know they will never win, Pierce said dryly, “Well, they are my arms.” Marigold gave a small nod of approval and exited, escorted by the Few. The other three, still holding their prisoners, followed after, lifting them up without any effort and floating along behind. Marilyn, afraid but too timid to do anything, looked between everyone before scuttling off to follow her husband.
Mila, still overwhelmed, snapped back to herself and ran over to her husband. “You’re hurt!” she said, wiping away the black ichor that stained his face. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” he said flatly, though he let her fuss over him. “Reid started swinging a sword around. It’s already healed.”
She looked up at him, “What’s going on? Why was Reid swinging a sword?” 
“I’m going to have to explain that to Ginny, Rodger and Mary too, so you may as well wait a minute,” he replied. Shaking his head, he floated over to where Kass and Jen still stood. “Are you both ok?”
They looked at him; Kass turned her gaze downwards and nodded. “Yes...yeah, we’re fine.” She paused for a moment before adding quietly, “...He...Reid would have...he tried to...”
“It’s alright. I’m fine. I’ve, heh,” he grinned self-deprecatingly, “I’ve had much worse try and kill me.” Kass looked at him with trepidation and concern, and he stopped smiling. “We’ve been dealing with this for a while,” he said quietly. “I am fine, really.” He gestured towards the door, “Go, see if you can calm Ginny down. She’s still trying to scream, and she’s going to make herself pass out. Marilyn is crying and begging, and is not helping in that regard.”
Jen looked a bit confused and asked, “How...do you know that?”
Pierce looked at her with a distant expression, “Because I’m holding her angry, panicked husband, and she’s asking me to let him go. Because I’m holding Ginny, and I can feel her screaming into my hand. I’m holding Rodger. I’m making mother more tea in the kitchen, while I see her sitting and watching this go on around her like some sort of unsavoury stage play. I’m talking to you. I’m making a building foundation. I’m cutting down trees. I’m reading a book on enchantment theory, and the history of Yeto, and camels, and six on construction techniques. I am learning four languages. I am learning how to fence. I am an assistant to a doctor, to a politician, to a lawyer, and to an alchemist. I am watching and listening to every inch of an eight square mile patch of boreal forest. I am observing from corners and trees and forgotten places all over Mirilarin, and all over Akroum. I am every Arm, every Eye, every Ear, and they are all me, because we are all Few. That is how I know.” Kassandra and Jennifer glanced between Pierce and each other, uncertainty plain on their faces, before they averted their eyes, shuffled around him and left the room. He remained where he was, looking distant. Mila looked at him sadly before closing the gap between them, wrapping her arms about his chest. After a moment, Pierce muttered quietly, “...We don’t know what else to do. We’re hated. And it hurts.”
“Not by everyone,” Mila said, hugging him tightly. “You are wonderful people. They’re just scared. Things will change, you’ll see.” He returned the hug, holding her close and burying his face in her hair. “It will get better.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
He held her tighter, replying, “We love you too.” With a sigh, he straightened again. “Alright. Let’s see what can be sorted out.” Eschewing his illusions, he floated into the room where the others were. The three were still being held; Rodger and Reid appeared to have calmed to states of seething resentment, but were no longer struggling. Genevieve, however, seemed to still have the energy in her to kick and scream. The Arm that held Reid continued trying to calmly explain to Mary that it couldn’t let go of him yet, but that it certainly wasn’t hurting him. However, the woman seemed convinced that she was about to watch her husband die and tearfully pleaded for his release. Kass and Jen sat on a couch, holding each other and looking tired and unsettled. Marigold, for her part, sat primly in the chair she preferred, as another Arm served her tea. Pierce took a seat in an empty chair, or rather hovered above one, while Mila perched on its arm, wanting to stay close to him. Turning to Marigold, he said evenly, “I am terribly sorry for that outburst, Mother. Are you alright?”
“I’m afraid my nerves have been a bit shot with the excitement,” she replied, showing little evidence that she had been rattled at all, “but I believe the blame rests more on your brother and sister than on you.” She turned to Reid, “Are you going to behave? Or are you going to make your brother’s pets restrain you like a madman again?” Reid scowled, but he made no more motions to resist. “You?” she asked towards Rodger, who followed suit. Marigold sipped her tea before saying evenly, “Put your brothers down, Percival.” Without any visible sign from Pierce, the Arms gently released the two men, putting them on their feet as they quickly disentangled their arms and pulled away to float soundlessly nearby. Freidrich scowled darkly, rubbing at himself where the Few had touched him as though he was dirty; Mary threw herself around his waist and sobbed as though he had survived a terrible accident. “Marilyn, stop making such a scene. He brought it on himself,” Marigold chided. 
Rodger shared Reid’s look, but straightened himself proper before levelling his gaze at the Arm who held Ginny. “Unhand my wife,” he said, his tone threatening.
“It will put down Genevieve when she has composed herself and can act like a grown woman again,” Marigold declared. “Honestly. Her shrieking is enough to stop my heart.”
“She isn’t going to calm down as long as that thing is touching her,” Rodger spat.
Nonplussed, Marigold retorted, “That thing, as you so put it, is keeping peace in the room, and I will not have it falling into such horrid discord again.” Looking at her elder daughter, she said evenly, “When you have calmed down, dear, you can sit down and talk with the rest of us.” Ginny murmured and thrashed against the Arm, but she had begun to appear as though she was either settling down or running out of energy. Reid and Marilyn had sat down, moving as far away from the Few as possible; Marilyn clung to her husband as he glared vitriolically at the Arms and Pierce. “We’re waiting on you, dear,” she told Ginny, sipping her tea before remarking to the Arm that waited on her, “You make good tea.” The Arm bowed graciously. She looked at it consideringly for a moment before turning to Pierce, “Does it talk like the other one?”
“They can,” he replied, “but I know you’ve always preferred the help to be quiet.”
Marigold made a noise of appreciation. “What else can it do?”
“Literally anything you’d require of them.” 
With another appreciative ‘hmn’, she considered the Arm once more, took another sip of tea and declared, “I think I’ll keep it. You seem to have more than enough of them.”
There was only a hint of wistful resignation as he nodded once, “Certainly, Mother.” The Arm bowed graciously again.
“Stop calling her that…” Reid practically hissed. Pierce turned to look at him flatly, his expression detached. “You aren’t Percival. She isn’t your mother. You are an extraplanar monster, and I will not be held hostage in my own house.”
Pierce made a forced sighing noise through his nose, staring flatly at the other man. Meanwhile, Rodger stood facing the Arm that held his wife, clenching his fists and glaring with fury and helplessness. With another sigh from Pierce, the Arm released her, and she collapsed sobbing into her husband’s arms. The sounds of her cries filled the room as the pair retreated to where Reid and Marilyn sat.
Marigold gave an almost stern look towards Pierce before closing her eyes and taking another sip of tea. “I didn’t tell you to let go of her yet, Percival. Is that one being disobedient?”
“No,” he said flatly, staring into the distance, “I’m sick of being glared at like I’m a monster. Holding her wasn’t helping.” She replied with a thin-lipped ‘hmn’, but said nothing more. 
Everyone sat awkwardly in the room in various states of discomfort and fear; only Marigold appeared immune to it, drinking her tea and sitting in stoic silence. Pierce stared into the distance, as did the other Few, excepting the one attending Marigold; they had turned their attentions elsewhere. Eventually, the sound of crying stopped. Genevieve sat up and held herself stiffly, still obviously rattled and composing herself; Marilyn held tightly to her husband’s arm, and seemed to almost retreat behind him. “Are you feeling better, Genevieve?” Marigold inquired. The woman didn’t reply, but took a shuddering breath. “Good,” she continued. “I hardly know why you’re causing such a stir to begin with. These things are hardly frightening. Ugly, I will grant them that, but certainly not frightening.” Pierce sighed slightly. “I’m sorry, Percival, but they are. At least you’re only a bit unsettling.”
“Small blessings,” he said with resignation. 
“What...is...going...on?” Genevieve stuttered out, her breathing not quite regulated yet.
“Your brother claims he saved the world from an extraplanar disturbance, back when it went from summer to winter in a moment,” Marigold said matter-of-factly. “Everything was suspended in time for six months while he tagged about with a bunch of adventurers, making up for their lack of a wizard on their team. Unfortunately, the spell he had to use to fix the problem went pear-shaped; it made these creatures and made him look like that. Not the worst outcome that could have happened, considering that magic was involved, really.”
The Arm that had been holding Ginny crept closely along the ground, which served to underscore just how small these creatures actually were: most of their flowing, robe-like tendrils actually covered nothing. They had no legs, and their torsos truncated shortly past their shoulders: unlike Pierce, whose body was solid past his small chest cavity, the Arms had no body past that at all. The Arm looked up at her from the floor and muttered quietly, “ ‘M sorry for scaring you…” Genevieve looked at it, expression tight, obviously trying to suppress a reaction.
Rodger swiftly gave the Arm a kick, sending it scooting backwards towards where Percival sat. Mila reached towards it gently and pulled it up towards her, and it clung to her with an expression that could only be afraid and sad. She put her arm around what passed for its shoulders and patted it gently before standing upright. She straightened her dress and turned towards Rodger. She gave him a placid, pleasant look as she walked over towards him. Stopping shy of the couch, she leaned in slightly, smiling sweetly. “Rodger,” she said politely. 
He looked up at her, expression dark. “What?”
Before he could say anything, Mila slapped him soundly across the face, causing his head to snap back. He blinked in shock and held his cheek as she said, just as sweetly but with a dark undertone, “Do not treat anyone like that in front of me. Do not kick people, do not kick children, do not kick dogs, and certainly don’t kick the Few. Understood?” Rodger just blinked at her. “That is unacceptable, and I will not stand by and let you strike someone you think is beneath you.” She turned and sat primly down on the edge of the chair where she had been; the frightened Arm cowered behind her and clung to her skirt again. “May I have some tea also please?” she asked politely; another Arm dutifully left the room as the words left her mouth. “Now. Mrs. Webber, I apologize for my outburst; I hope I wasn’t out of turn,” she said, bowing her head respectfully towards the matriarch.
“Hmn,” she said, putting down her cup. “Behaviour like that is unbecoming of a lady, but certainly his was unacceptable as well and required reprimand.” She said, with an equally dark undertone, “I hope that that was the last outburst we are going to have this evening.”
“That will be up to Misters Webber and Langvarden,” Mila said, looking pointedly at Reid and Rodger. “I don’t know particularly what has occurred since dinner, but it seems like they are intent on causing violence, and I sincerely hope that it is now out of their systems.”
The shock of being slapped had worn off, and Rodger turned on Mila, “How dare you insinuate; my wife…”
“Rodger!” Genevieve snapped at him, holding up her hand to him, though she still stared pointedly into the middle distance, trying to maintain her composure. “Don’t. Don’t argue. Don’t fight. And don’t kick things. That is beneath you; don’t do it again.” She took another sharp breath. “What, are those things? What is going on? And why does Percival look like that?”
“These are the Few," Mila said evenly, gesturing at the one who held on to her hip. "We were invaded by extraplanars calling themselves the All. They intended to destroy everything, and got very close. They were the ones who froze everyone, and the ones who destroyed the cities. The All were stopped by adventurers, including my husband. However, the spell they used to banish them had some messy fine print, and the weakest among them were not dismissed, but rather made into Materians. They are utterly unlike the creatures they once were, and you can easily say that they didn’t exist prior. Percival cast the spell, and when it misfired it bonded him to them; he became like them, as they became like him. So they are not extraplanars, they are not the ones to blame for Asanon’s troubles, and they are certainly not deserving of the treatment they are receiving here.”
Genevieve took deep breaths, trying to keep level. “...Alright…” she said slowly. “Why were they attacking Friedrich?”
“Because Reid flew off the handle and came at Pierce with a sword,” Kassandra offered, earning her a dirty look from the man. “The other one didn’t do anything, except stop a flying sword from nearly killing my wife.” The hand she had on Jen’s gave it a squeeze. “The only people who tried to hurt anyone were Freidrich and Rodger.”
“In all fairness,” Mila added, “I attacked Rodger. Now, let’s go around and discuss our concerns, hmn? Genevieve, Marilyn: I know you’re scared. Rodger, I know that you’re trying to protect Genevieve. Let’s try to work this out.” She gave a quick, almost sidelong glare at Reid, but it lasted for barely a second. Turning to the elder Webber daughter, Mila asked, “Genevieve, that must have been terribly shocking. Are you feeling better?” Tight-lipped and tight-faced, she nodded stiffly, still looking a bit pale. “Do you have any questions?”
She sat quietly for a few long seconds, maintaining her composure, before she finally asked, eyes staring firmly at the ground, “...How, and I don’t mean to offend...how can you trust...them? Do you have proof that what you’re being told is true? You didn’t know anything more than we did, at the beginning; Percival was missing for a month after the attack. Or, do you only know what they’ve been telling you?”
Mila considered that for a moment before explaining, “I’ve met most of the other adventurers, who corroborated the story. Most are quite reputable; a husband and wife of the Komatsu family who work closely with the Asonian government in trade negotiations, you’ve met them before; a government official from Lockeport; Cress Rivale...though I know he’s possibly not the most reputable of the family, they all trust that what he’s said is true. I’ve seen two of the places where a ritual is being maintained to mend the planar rifts, and though I don’t know anything about magic, it seems legitimate. I honestly believe it to be true.” Ginny continued to look at the floor, unsettled and unconvinced. Mila regarded her for a moment before sighing, “Genevieve...If a powerful wizard attacked you, and Rodger was made to look like a giant spider, would you really believe that he’d eat you?”
Ginny blinked and considered that for a minute. Her mouth opened and closed a few times in retort, before she eventually muttered, “...No.”
“And if he had a whole bunch of other spiders that were following him around, do you think he’d be plotting to overthrow humanity?” Mila asked. Ginny blinked, considering that as Mila continued, “Or do you think he’d be a lot more concerned about the fact that he looks like a spider, and was going to have a very hard time conducting business and going to meetings and parties? How there was no way he was going to be able to run for office without someone noticing and being terrified and convinced he was a monster?” She pursed her lips slightly as she added, “And how scared he’d be of his family, his children and his wife of trying to kill him or run from him because he looked frightening.”
The other woman look uncomfortable and replied, “Well...well if that’s the case, then magic can be undone!” she said. “Find a wizard to fix it and…”
Mila retorted, “It’s not an enchantment; there’s nothing to dispel or undo. It’s how it is.” Ginny was still unconvinced, so she explained, “You know how ritual circles are sized based on power?”
“...Yes?”
“You know how powerful the Lightning Transit spell is, yes? And how big it is?”
“Yes.”
“And you know how six blocks of Kalleander were obliterated, right?”
She replied hesitantly, not sure how that was related, “Yes…”
“That was the ritual that made them.” Most people in the room showed some sign of shock at this statement, but Mila continued, “If you think you can find a wizard, or even a bunch of wizards, who could replicate something that powerful, please, let us know. But they don’t exist in Mirilarin.”
Ginny sat uncomfortably for a moment, before saying, “So...so, that’s how it is, then.”
Mila nodded once, “Yes.” The other woman looked away, crossing her arms and looking ill-at-ease. With a last glance at her and a sigh, Mila turned to Ginny’s husband. “Rodger?”
The man also had a reserved look about him, sitting pressed against his wife with his arms folded. After a moment’s silence, he exhaled heavily and said, “I...admit that I saw fighting, and jumped in without knowing full-well what was going on, and when I thought they were hurting Genevieve, it didn’t help.” He exhaled again, “I apologize, for jumping to conclusions, and for acting like a boor.”
She smiled graciously, “Thank you.” Turning to the next in the circle, she continued, “Marilyn?”
Reid’s wife had also mostly composed herself, though her demeanour was still timid. When she was called on, her gaze flicked up and down nervously. “I…” she said quietly, “I...I’m glad that no one was hurt. I thought...thought that we were being attacked, and...I’m sorry. I’m just glad that everyone’s ok,” she said, giving her husband’s knee a squeeze.
Holding up her hands, Mila said matter-of-factly, “Nobody's getting hurt, nobody is in danger, and there is no conspiracy.” Marilyn nodded in acceptance. The whole time Mila had been speaking, Reid had been glaring underhandedly at Peirce, who stared in a fashion that made it difficult to tell if he was passively returning his brother’s gaze without concern, or if he was just staring into space. Now that Mila came to him, she pursed her lips. “Reid…” she said, tone flat and holding a hint of anger, knowing that nothing good would come from this particular conversation. The two men kept looking at each other, or perhaps not in Pierce’s case.
“You’re just going to have her talk for you?” Freidrich eventually said, tone bitter.
Pierce didn’t move or change his affect, replying evenly, “It wouldn’t be the first time. Anyways, she’s doing a lovely job.”
He didn’t cease his glaring as he replied, “I don’t believe any of this.” He glanced around, “I don’t know why any of you are falling for any of this.”
Marigold said calmly, “I chose to not care.” She sipped her tea, “This is the leader of the Few, obviously, seeing as how these other things defer to him. If he wants to pretend to be my son, then I will pretend that he is. If he is Percival, then there is no issue. If Percival is dead but I have a substitute who can mimic him in every important way, then there is no issue. The only conceivable problem arises if someone else claiming to be Percival arrives to contest him, which will be dealt with if and when it happens.”
Reid rolled his eyes conspicuously and turned to Ginny. She continued to look unsettled, staring away and holding her elbows. When she noticed and returned his look, he made a pointed expression, waiting for a response. She huffed and looked away again, “...I don’t care. I just...ugh,” she shuddered.
He turned to Rodger, who just shook his head. “If they aren’t threatening us…” he trailed off and shook his head again, unwilling to commit.
“Rgh, all of you...rgh,” Reid spat, frustrated. He turned back to Pierce again. “I don’t believe you. I won’t believe you, and I don’t want you in my house.”
Pierce’s gaze moved onto him properly, and he stared at him with an inscrutable expression. Eventually, he replied, “...That’s fair. I won’t intrude where I’m not wanted.”
“I want all of these things gone. I never want one near me, near Marilyn, or our kids, or anyone. They’re unnatural.”
Again, Pierce took his time responding, “...We can stay away from you and your family. That’s in our power.”
Marigold interrupted, “There will be an exception for Emilrich.”
Reid looked at her strangely. “Who.”
“That’s what I’ve named him,” she said, gesturing to the Arm that waited on her. “He didn’t have a name, and apparently Percival isn’t naming them, so I will. He’s my new butler.”
This statement caused not only Reid to blink in surprise, but also Pierce and the Arm who had just been named Emilrich. “...Mother, you have a butler,” Reid argued. “You don’t need…”
“Not one who doesn’t need vacations, sick days, room, board and wages,” she replied simply. “I haven’t liked the new one anyways. I will tell him to find other employment when I get home.”
Reid flustered at this declaration, but a dead, stern stare from his mother preempted any sort of argument. He groused under his breath, as his youngest sibling piped up with an almost patronising tone, “Don’t you want my opinion?” He glared at Kassandra with a sarcastic look; they hadn’t agreed on anything in 35 years, and they both knew they weren’t going to start now.
Turning back to Pierce, he said angrily, “You aren’t human, you aren’t Percival, and I’m not going to let you impersonate him and take advantage of his position.” He glared, “I’m not about to let you get away with this lie, and take from our family.”
Pierce raised an eyebrow. After a short pause, he replied evenly, though there was a hint of an edge in his voice, “Now that...that is a more dangerous assertion.” He gestured as he spoke, “I can stay away from you, we can all stay far away from you and Marilyn, that’s no problem. If you want nothing to do with us, we can accept that. But tell me, Freidrich,” he said, folding his hands, “what do you mean by something like that? That you won’t, ‘let me get away’ with this?” Freidrich opened and closed his mouth a few times, about to argue, but Pierce talked over him, “Because some people might think that was a threat. It sounded like you might try to reveal me, when I’m trying to keep my…” he rotated his hand about, “nature, from becoming a public fiasco. I need to support Mila, and my daughters. I don’t want their lives getting uprooted and ruined because of what I’ve gotten tangled in, so I need to keep my job, and my house, and everything else as it was, because otherwise they are the ones who would suffer. Not me, Freidrich. Don’t think for a minute that I would be the one to be hurt by anything you do. You aren’t capable of hurting the Few. All you could do is hurt Mila, Janine and Adelle. And I would not take that kindly. We would not take that kindly at all. But that’s alright, Freidrich; I know that wasn’t a threat. Because I know that for all of your bluster, you don’t like having enemies. You’ll talk about people behind their backs, but you won’t actually do anything at the end of the day, for fear of reprisal. And trust me, Freidrich: for someone who worries about making political adversaries, you do not want to make a real enemy: someone whose family you’ve hurt. Do you, Freidrich?”
Reid glared furiously. He muttered, “...Filthy, blackmailing son of a…”
“Friedrich,” Marilyn said quietly, garnering his attention. She shook her head subtly, “Let it go.”
He made a growling sound, followed by an emphatic ‘hmph’ as he turned away. “Get out of my house. Don’t come back.” 
Pierce nodded his head once, “Alright.” He stood up, with Mila beside him. He bowed his head formally to each person in turn. “Good night. Thank you for your hospitality.” Mila followed suit. “Good night, Mother.” 
She nodded her head in assent, “Yes, you’re right. It is time to turn in. Good night, Percival.”
With that, Pierce cast a spell, teleporting him and Mila from the room. The remaining Arm vanished seconds later, though Emilrich remained. A few tense moments passed, before Freidrich stood up and stormed off, muttering about making sure the other one was gone. Marilyn watched him go and quickly excused herself to to follow him. Marigold made to stand up, and was quickly offered assistance from the fawning Emilrich. She took its hand, “Thank you,” and turned to her remaining children, “Well, tonight was exhausting. I think I will retire. Good night to you all.” With that, she turned and made for the door.
“Wait!” Kassandra stopped her. “Wait, just…” she looked a bit uncomfortable before addressing Emilrich, “You...you are Percival? I mean, Percival hears everything you do, right?” Emilrich bowed his head in affirmation. “Can you tell him...I mean, can he...I don’t know how it works but…” she shook her head, “If you, he, isn’t busy tomorrow evening, he should come over to our house. Just...to visit.” Emilrich just looked at her silently. “Around...around six? Is that fine?” Emilrich bowed his head again.
“Hmm!” Marigold said. “Is that how it works? Tell Percival to come here now.” Emilrich looked at her, subtly signaling uncertainty through its body language. She huffed, “The day Freidrich’s authority outdoes mine is the day I’m dead. Tell him to come here now.” Suddenly, Pierce was standing beside her, with a tired expression. “Good,” she said with a hint of good humour, “now I know that you have no excuse for not coming when I call.” Pierce made a conceding expression. She looked at him for a moment before shaking her head, “Good night, dear,” and pulling him into a hug again. “Don’t mind your brother; he didn’t get your father’s better traits.” With that, she turned and walked out, Emilrich floating dutifully behind her and Pierce left looking at the floor.
Another few seconds passed uncomfortably before Genevieve stood up, “Well, I need a strong drink. Or three.” She gestured towards Rodger, “I’d rather get drunk at home. Let’s go.” As she moved past Pierce, she stopped; though she didn’t look up, she said, “I’m...sorry. For acting like that. That was cruel. I’ll...I’ll try.”
Pierce kept his gaze down as well, but nodded, “Thank you.”
Ginny added, “Come on, Rodger. The vodka won’t drink itself,” before walking out.
Her husband made to follow her, but paused as he passed Pierce. He looked at him, and Pierce looked up. “...Sorry for, you know, punching you,” he offered, wincing slightly.
Pierce winced in turn, “Heh. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
He nodded once, “Well...goodnight, then.” With that, he followed after his wife, leaving Pierce alone with Kass and Jen. 
Another quiet moment passed, before Pierce said, “I shouldn’t stand here; Freidrich is going to come back.” He turned to them and asked almost hesitantly, “So...I should come by around six?”
Kass smiled slightly, “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He returned the expression. She looked hesitant for a second before saying, “Can you...or...I don’t know, I don’t want to be rude but I still don’t know how this works…” She looked at him in all seriousness, “Thank you, or, tell that Arm, thank you. For catching that sword.” She looked down. “If that had hit mom, or Jen, or me...I don’t even want to think about that. I can’t believe Friedrich would...nevermind. Just, thank you.”
He smiled, though there was still a hint of self-depreciation in it, “Well, neither of us could let you get hurt. We’re just lucky that we caught it, and that you’re ok.” They both smiled warily. Pierce looked away, “Thank you, I guess, as well. For...taking this better than I expected.”
“Well...heh,” she replied, “you were the only one who didn’t pitch a fit when I married a woman, so, I guess we’re even.” They grinned again. “See you tomorrow?”
He nodded, “Good night. Good night, Jennifer.”
“Night, Percival,” Jen replied.
Kass added, “Night, Pierce,” and he vanished again.
The two sat in silence for a moment, before Jen offered, “Well. That was the most interesting dinner we’ve ever had with your family…”
Category:Advent of the All