Chương 162: 76. Not Knowing

"I'm so glad you thought to consult me before fusing one of my classes," Violet complains loudly. I chuckle and roll the Nipper-ball back and forth on the floor next to our coffee table.

"I did think of it, yeah," I say.

"Then I decided it would be a waste of time. You knew what the plan was. We don't have to relitigate it every single time."

"Well now I need to choose a new class before Draga's trial," she whines.

"Which is today!" I roll my eyes.

"Just pick [Savior] for now, and we can choose one later."

"That's—!" She hesitates.

"Wait, that's a good idea, actually."

"No shit," I reply, flipping off the empty air beside me.

"I came up with it." We don't know how things are going to go at court or whatever the hell they have here, and if things go bad—like, "violence happening" bad—then we'll need Miss Violence herself to be at her best. I have a bad feeling about it, honestly, but I'm trying to ignore that.

"More importantly," I continue, changing the subject.

"We need to pick Nipper's new evolution."

"That doesn't seem so urgent to me," she argues.

"He's not going to change anything while he's stuck in a cocoon."

"Yeah, but whatever we choose, it's going to have to start over. The more we put it off, the more progress we're going to lose." I glance again at Nipper's interface. [Evolution in Progress]: 1% Well, it's not exactly going fast, but still, I'd rather not waste valuable time.

"I'm with Maggie," Allie says.

"If her new class lets us pick, then we should pick."

"Fine," Violet sighs.

"How much of an informed choice can we even make, here?" That's a fair point, actually. We don't have a good way of telling what any of the advantages or disadvantages are. Broadly, our choices are between raising Nipper's Grade, raising Tier, or altering his evolution path. The more significant shift in the evolution path is more costly.

Assuming that things are more or less analogous to how our own interface works, focusing on Grade probably raises potential, while raising Tier grants immediate power at the cost of future potential. Then again, I also have to consider which evolutions will support us better, since my skill lets me copy some of Nipper's abilities. Though I've already seen how limited that can be. Still, I don't need much of an excuse to narrow the options down to the most magical choices.

"I think the two-star options are the obvious choices," I decide.

"But which one?"

"I disagree—""Of course you do." Violet ignores me and keeps talking.

"While we can safely rule out the rock snail option, both remaining as he is and transforming into a moth are worth consideration."

"Staying as-is would be boring," I gripe.

"Plus, it would mean no useful new traits for my skill and letting him keep getting bigger, which is inconvenient."

"And the moth?" she insists.

"Flight seems potentially very useful." I drum my fingers impatiently on Nipper's cocoon.

"Except that he'd have to go through at least an entire tier while being completely immobile. We might be able to feed him, somehow, but I don't think we're in a strong enough position to take care of him like that." Violet pauses for a long time.

"Alright. It sounds like you've actually put some thought into this for once."

"You know, the constant jabs are starting to get kind of hurtful," I grumble.

"I know we've got like a whole dynamic going or whatever, but could you fucking not?" Again, a long silence. It's almost Vi's signature at this point, and as I feel the moment stretch on to the point of growing awkward, I can almost feel the moment it snaps.

"Which one, then?" she asks, having failed to find a real response.

"Fire or... Astral? What does that even mean and where did it come from?" I can feel that Allie isn't satisfied with how Violet and I resolved that, but she can deal.

"That's easy," I reply.

"I'm pretty sure his evolutions are based on what he eats. We've been mostly feeding him literal fire, because that's the kind of magic we can manifest most easily without getting burned at the stake—which, now that I think about it, wouldn't actually work, ironically."

"Please focus," Violet groans.

"Right." I cough into a fist.

"He's eaten plenty of other things in the meantime—lots of snail while we were in the dungeon, some literal rocks, a bit of dirt during training, several Fa'aun corpses..."

"Maybe don't say that last bit out loud," Allie interjects.

"But what has Nipper eaten that's so magically charged it puts all that other stuff to shame?" I ask.

"Something that we might associate with space and dimensions." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"The demon," Violet concludes.

"So you think that the Astral Wurm evolution will potentially give Nipper the Stalker demon's dimensional powers?" I nod.

"Or something similar. And more importantly, it might let us harness those abilities."

"Then it seems like a pretty obvious choice," she says.

"Especially since we hardly need even more fire-related powers."

"Yep! What do you think, Allie? Hyperdimensional demon worm?"

"I mean, I was on board, until you described it like that," she mutters.

"But yeah, okay. Astral Wurm works for me." With a consensus reached—E'ava and Reverie had plenty of time to chime in if they were going to—I confirm our decision and watch as... nothing visibly happens. Without fanfare, the interface just shifts slightly to recognize the new choice. [Evolution in Progress]: 0%"Well, that was anticlimactic," I mutter.

"What were you expecting? Fireworks?" Violet deadpans.

"Whatever, let's just drop him off with Fargo and see what's going on." In theory, he'll be fine on his own given that he can't move anymore, but I'd be more comfortable with somebody keeping an eye on him. The evolution is going to take a while—days or even weeks, if he only managed one percent while we were sleeping—but better safe than sorry. * Fargo is surprised at Nipper's sudden change, but happy to take care of him for us while we're out.

"Taaka's evolutions have mostly just happened overnight, but I've heard it can be different for dungeon anomalies." Good to know. With the Nipper-ball secured, we're free to go looking for breakfast. Normally we either grab whatever's being served in the guest house or hang out with one or both of the Goa sisters, but I'm not sure how much time we have before the tribunal. Not much, as it turns out.

No sooner have I grabbed a few fruits and a bit of some kind of porridge to eat, than Rara comes rushing into the guest house's common room to find me.

"Maev, mother needs you to meet her at the front gates as soon as—well, now, actually. It's quite urgent."

"Why? What's going on?" I ask.

"I don't know," she replies nervously.

"I think something is wrong, but nobody is telling me what's going on. Let's just hurry, okay?" I don't need to be told twice, and hurry along behind her. At the gates, I find Tamara Goa Baanu and her husband in a hushed but heated conversation with the Alchemist. I don't manage to overhear any of it before Lady Goa spots me and turns to greet me with a strained smile.

"Miss Maev! Excellent. I'm afraid we need to make haste," she says.

"Our hand is being forced, and I need to accelerate some plans." I blink.

"What happened?"

"We've been rather outplayed, I'm afraid," she answers with a grimace.

"Rather than the days or weeks we expected, the tribunal will end today. By the request of House Shaa, Lady Ima has agreed to pass summary judgment."

"What?!" I cry in alarm.

"Why? How?"

"I'd like to know that as well," she seethes.

"But I'm afraid that this has rather blindsided me. We must attend the forum to find out. We're leaving right away—and I'm attending personally. No more games— somebody is charging into this by the horns."

"A rather mannish tactic, I daresay," Erik grumbles darkly. Oh heck. I don't know if we're ready for this, but we've done as much as we can. All we can do is trust our allies and hope that our word can move the needle a bit. I glance up at Al with trepidation.

"What about you?" I ask.

"Are you joining us?" He smiles apologetically and shakes his head.

"I'm afraid my presence would do more harm than good. I do my best work from the shadows—speaking of which, I have a few things I need to arrange. Is Captain Jira still in harbor?" Huh? Jira? The Degala captain?

"Uh, maybe? She said she'd be sticking around for a while, but she didn't actually say for how long. Why? You know her?"

"Only by reputation," he replies.

"She's always had a knack for being in the right place at the right time."

"High level merchant skills, one supposes," Tamara adds dismissively.

"Is this really the best time?"

"It's the only time," Al sighs.

"As you say, our hands are forced and plans are being moved up. Probably not hers, the damned..." He trails off, grumbling inaudibly. It sure sounds like he knows more than he's letting on, but he always does.

"Okay, good luck," I say.

"And thanks, Al."

"You may thank me when I have done something of value," he retorts.

"And keep your luck—you need it more than I." Okay? Weird guy. We hurry into a very fancy looking carriage, and as soon as the doors shut behind us, it tears through the streets at a clip that makes the alchemical car look quaint by comparison—probably fueled by skills. Certainly the smoothness of the ride must be. Tamara looks more nervous than I've ever seen her before, sitting across from me with her arms crossed and impatiently tapping her fingers.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"You've noticed Talla's absence," she hisses. I actually hadn't, in all the rush, but I nod.

"I've taken steps to protect her," Tamara explains coldly.

"I do not know whether they will be necessary, and that irks me." I furrow my brows.

"Not knowing?"

"Yes. Until last night, I had no reason to consider Shaa as a threat, aside from their miserable brat of a scion," she says.

"That is unsettling enough, if our theories about the inquisition are true. For them to move so suddenly now— that is worse. It implies that they not only know something I don't, but that they also know how much I know." It's a little tempting to say that not everything necessarily revolves around her, but it is pretty spooky timing.

"[Any ideas?]" I mumble under my breath.

"Just one," Vi answers.

"If the other side is aware of the Alchemist's identity and history, and spotted our meeting, then they could extrapolate that we might have learned whatever he knows." Wow, I don't like that either. Neither does Tamara, when I relay it to her.

"It's possible, though it raises the question of how," she sighs.

"Sir 'Al' was free enough with his secrets once he met with us, but I've been trying for decades to get that meeting, and he assures me that I'm not the only one."

"So if we take him at his word, then Shaa would have to know all about him from the start," I muse.

"From inquisitor records?"

"Probably," she agrees.

"We're here." We disembark, arriving in as much of a hurry as we left. Tamara practically storms into the forum, which is actually an outdoor location that reminds me of a stadium—or an ancient theater—with tiered seating surrounding a central floor, where a trio of daises allow speakers to address each other and the audience. In the center of the raised platforms, Draga kneels in chains, head bowed, while Faarah all but screams at a stone-faced arbiter on the furthest dais.

"—an absolute farce of justice! You should be ashamed! To even entertain this madness is nothing short of a perversion of the law, and I swear I'll take every last one of you to task in the Empress' court for this!" Tamara hurries her pace even more, but the air feels thick—as if we're trying to run through water, then syrup as we get closer. Judging from the arbiter's white-knuckled grip on her podium and the fact that the entire bottom two tiers are empty, we're not the only ones struggling.

Lady Ima Dou Baanu's voice is strained, but professional as she responds.

"That is your right and privilege, Lady Faarah Foren, but the evidence is incontrovertible. Sir Draga is a traitor to the crown, and must be put to death for his crimes."