Mireille leaned to her side, pressing her cheek against the cool marble wall of her small chamber in an effort to alleviate the stifling warmth she felt under her robes that was only partially successful. At her feet were several crumpled pieces of paper with various rejected outlines for the “statement” she was supposed to make. Even though Althena had implied that she’d be forgiven for her lack of eloquence due to the rushed way she’d been forced to write her speech, Mireille had felt that she needed to put some effort into this, if only to explain why she was going along with something she’d been so dead-set against only a few hours ago. In the end, however, she decided to wing it — she had a reasonably good idea of what she wanted to say, anyway.
So, for the last five minutes, she’d been leaning against the wall, listening to the psycho’s melodious voice reciting some poetic bullshit about Light and Darkness. With nothing else to look at, she stared at the emblem of Noir on the wall. It looked just like the symbol on her father’s pocket watch (I wonder if Kirika still has it?) — two Maidens (who presumably governed death) with their backs to each other, each holding a sword. However, there was a rather noticeable difference from the other Noir symbols she’d seen, for in this one, a third woman stood behind the Maidens, her hands outstretched as if to bless the pair. €100 says that this is where the nutjob got her “the True Noir is actually three people” idea in the first place. Yet the fact that this was the only version of this variation she’d ever seen (aside from a rough sketch from a notebook that Althena had shown her when she delivered her “good news”) brought another idea to her mind: Is everyone kept in the dark about this Hand business? Certainly the candidates were.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Chloe’s chirping agreement to be a part of Noir. She’s awfully cheerful for someone who’s just agreed to devote her life to being a killing machine. Mireille sighed — likely as not, that girl had completely bought into the “Noir is two people” line. She wouldn’t be happy when the Corsican showed up in the middle of her ceremony; she’d be even less happy when she found out that Mireille was actually supposed to be there; and she’d probably be downright angry when she learned that she was going to be taking orders from her nemesis.
At least, Mireille was pretty sure that she’d be in charge — though she wasn’t exactly sure of what she’d be doing as the Hand of Noir. She’d asked Jeanette, but Althena’s mousey assistant had just told her that she “already knew” what to do, and that the ceremony would simply “unlock” that knowledge. It all sounded like some sort of vague Gnosticism to Mireille, and she wasn’t the kind of person who believed that redemption could come through having some sort of secret revealed to her. Then again, most of her knowledge of Gnosticism came from second-hand accounts of that novel about Da Vinci that had caused a ruckus a few years previously. She’d never read it herself; ironically, at the time she’d believed the book’s premise to be utterly implausible, reasoning that there was no way a conspiracy that massive and that intricate could possibly exist for thousands of years without collapsing under its own weight.
The blonde assassin might have kept going with these musings, had the door to the small cell not quietly opened. Jeanette peeked her head into the room, and ever-so-quietly whispered, “It’s time.”
Mireille nodded and pulled the hood of the robe over her head, and got up to follow Althena’s mousey assistant. She tried to walk as quietly as she could, but she was still favoring her injured leg, which made stealth that much more difficult. Not like it matters, she thought to herself. In few minutes, everyone will know I’m here. Still, she felt like she should at least pay lip service to this ceremony’s traditions. (That, and she wanted to see the look on Chloe’s face when she learned what the True Noir’s real nature was.)
Although she didn’t really know how the ceremony went, Mireille knew that her role would begin soon when Althena recited the second poem, partially because it seemed to follow logically, but mostly because Althena had given her almost a full second of eye contact during the recitation. As Althena called for her to step forward, Mireille pressed a slip of paper into Jeanette’s hand, trusting that the woman would heed her advice, and then began moving, pulling down the hood of her robe as she advanced.
Amazingly enough, she was able to get halfway to the stage before the reactions started.
Chloe’s reaction was hardly unexpected: “What is going on here?!” She couldn’t think of any reason why this… this… interloper should have anything to do with this sacred ceremony — hell, she couldn’t think of any reason for her to be alive! Chloe simply couldn’t believe this; after the hours that she and Kirika had to struggle through it purge this abomination’s influence from the latter’s psyche, she was now back to pollute Kirika’s mind again — and with Althena’s permission, no less! “What is she even doing here? She’s going to destroy everything! We ought to—”
“Chloe,” Althena interrupted sternly, “you are interrupting the ceremony.”
The stern voice of her mother figure brought Chloe back to reality. “Huh? Oh….” Now she understood. This was a test — a final test to ensure that Kirika would not slip back to the weakened mindset she’d acquired while in the Corsican’s protection. Althena had said something about a guide, after all. No doubt the next segment of the ceremony would involve choosing that guide. As if it was a choice at all: Althena had raised them and nurtured them since childhood, while the Corsican, on the other hand, had nearly driven the True Noir apart. Yes, that must be it. “I… I apologize for interrupting. I jumped to an illogical conclusion far too quickly.”
Borne and Marennes, for their part, came to a similar conclusion, though they were hardly surprised by it. After all, Althena had implied that the second half of the Noir ceremony involved the third candidate in some way, so it was logical to assume that what was to follow would involve a symbolic rejection of the Corsican and the defective world she represented.
And Kirika? Well, she was a bit puzzled, sure, but somehow she’d known that she’d see Mireille again before this was all over. She was glad to see her here, if a little confused about her purpose.
Once everyone had settled down, Mireille finished moving towards the same spot where Chloe and Kirika had each stood only a few minutes ago.
“Mireille, of all of the candidates, you have the most exposure to the suffering of the world. You were not afforded the privilege of growing up here at the Manor; instead, you were left to your own devices, a sapling buffeted by innumerable storms. Your skills were honed in real-world conditions, allowing you to focus on the skills necessary for survival. What you lack in refined skill is made up for by the wisdom of your experience. You have learned to melt into the world, a hidden predator who only emerges from her surroundings to strike at her prey.”
Mireille didn’t visibly react to Althena’s speech; instead, she half-stared, half-glared at the woman who’d been orchestrating most of the major events in her life.
Althena continued: “More to the point, you repeatedly proved your skills as a caretaker and protector while Kirika was under your care, helping her to adjust to the outside world in both her professional as well as personal life, and the very fact that you pursued her to the Manor in the name of her best interests shows that, unlike many who share your occupation, you have not completely detached yourself from your emotions — a dangerous situation, to be sure, but you have walked that line with great success.”
Borne and Marennes looked at each other nervously — it was obvious that Althena was deviating from the prescribed ceremony: the change in tone was unmistakable. It was almost as if she was giving an explanation… but why would she have to explain to Mireille why she couldn’t be a part of Noir? After all, the Corsican was utterly opposed to the very notion of the institution — the irritated look on her face made that clear. And if Althena was explaining Mireille’s inappropriateness for Noir, why was she bringing up all these points in her favor. That didn’t make sense… unless…. She couldn’t!
“Who is this woman’s witness?”
“I am,” Jeanette replied.
“Will you vouch for Mireille’s ability and character?”
“I will.”
“Do you believe her fit to carry out her role as a part of the True Noir?”
Chloe could hardly believe her ears — the True Noir had already been established! It was going to be her and Kirika, taking on the world with Althena’s help. She must have misspoken — that’s the only explanation.
Meanwhile, Jeanette smiled as she gave her predetermined answer. “This I believe.”
“Your will is iron, your mind is a razor, and your heart is steadfast. Your knowledge of the world’s workings and wisdom in interpreting those workings, your ability to plan ahead, to divine how your quarry — or your foes — will react, and your determination to see those plans through to the end: all these and more make you the most dangerous person on the face of the earth, above even the Maidens of Noir. And with your guidance, Noir will once again be able to hold back the Darkness, to bring relief to the Light and allow them to finally live in peace, safe from the madness that threatens to subdue them. In your Hand, Noir will be the deadliest weapon in the world. Mireille, destiny has called you to be the Hand of Noir — will you accept?”
Mireille’s eyes were smoldering as Althena officially asked her to join the group that she so despised, the one she’d named the team she’d formed with Kirika after. It had all come down to this.
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(Posted Fri, 27 Oct 2006 05:19)
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