Chapter Text
The first time Ori noticed something was wrong with her was when she edited her interview with Partitio.
She’d promised a story that was worth traveling all the way to Wellgrove, and she was determined to deliver. And sure enough, Partito had managed to convince the Alrond Rondwell (who half of her colleagues weren’t fully convinced even existed) to part with an exorbitant amount of leaves to make his steam engine deal with Roque and invented a new type of store in the process. That article was guaranteed to sell like New Delsta crepes.
And yet, Ori couldn’t shake the feeling that she missed something important. Incidentally, her clearest memories were of the times Partitio wasn’t around for her to witness his brilliant flashes of inspiration.
She only noticed something was off when she couldn’t remember everything that happened during the department store’s opening.
Sure, she remembered the conversation about Roque’s mystery announcement, and the interview Partitio gave her before he ran off to the inn to gather his companions and plan his next move. But it was only when she read her notes that she realized that some parts were missing.
Missing from her memory, that was. Questions that she had clearly written down but couldn’t remember asking, answers that she didn’t recall receiving but were clearly written in her notebook.
She hadn’t been feeling too well that day. Maybe it was the persistent headache that had started around the time she caught up to Partitio during his first inspection of the building that would later become his famous department store and only let up after she left to make plans for her own trip to Roque Island. Horrific timing. She was a professional, for Vide’s sake.
When she feigned sickness while on the run from the guards, she wasn’t entirely lying. She didn't think much of it at the time. What did it matter when she was about to die?
It certainly didn’t get better from there.
After her miraculous rescue, she had a sound explanation for feeling like that damn steam tank thing ran her over for fun every day, in case Partitio or Castti asked. The latter did not; after a final check up to determine if she was fit to travel to Roque Island with Partitio, the apothecary went off to greener forests to meet with Lord Alrond to discuss the effects Timberain's poison rain had on Wellgrove’s citizens and the environment. The old Ori would’ve jumped at the implication they would also be meeting Hikari there, a lead that would’ve been of great interest to her brother—
Instead, she spent the following days silently nodding to Partitio’s recollections of his travels as their carriage took them to Canalbrine.
There wasn’t a day Ori didn’t wish the world was quieter, but especially today she wished she’d never woken up from Vide’s sweet oblivion. The factory noises, while draining the life right out of her whenever she had to endure being close to any of the machinery, were part of the everyday ambience by now, even though she’d bet Partitio’s last silver coin that Floyd was the only one who enjoyed it, and sure enough he spent as much time around his machines as he could manage before Thurston shooed him out with not so subtle threats of dagger-induced nap time (threats Floyd also seemed to enjoy to some degree, despite his well-known fear of Throné).
At the moment, the weirdo in question was happily tinkering away at the steam engine prototype Partitio had requested for his presentation. As far as Ori was aware, there hadn’t been any incidents this time, no explosions and no “mood swings” whatever the hell that meant—according to Floyd, steam engines were fickle creatures. And right now he was, in fact, not talking to himself while working, as Ori had previously assumed. He was talking to his prototype like he was trying to calm a spooked horse with stage fright, presumably to avoid another spontaneous explosion at the most inopportune time. Perhaps her failure to understand humanity wasn’t entirely an issue on her end.
With nothing to do but wait and keep an eye out for Partitio in case he needed some last minute help with his presentation, Ori’s thoughts wandered back to a time when she was in a very similar situation.
Partitio had just put the finishing touches on his shiny new department store and was off to tell Alrond the good news. Ori, left to her own devices, compiled lists of all the stores and their inventory and drew sketches of the building until all she had left to do was to interview the merchants and wait for the mastermind’s return.
But first, she needed a break. She’d been feeling oddly light-headed all day, and though it got better at times, even she couldn’t keep up her high energy persona for long anymore. There was still so much work to do before she could get proper rest, but she caught herself being grateful that Partitio took so long to return. Those moments when she could afford to drop her mask were rare and precious.
But as time went by without any sign of the merchant, she began to worry. About what could possibly take him so long, but more about the persistent dizziness that didn’t feel like it would let up anytime soon. She needed to get out of the crowd for a bit, and fast before she drew anyone’s attention.
Maybe it was the air. She should let Partitio know this place needed better ventilation.
She must have been flipping through the pages of her notebook for a good thirty minutes now—that was what her pocket watch said. No traces of the girl that died in the Fellsun Ruins were to be found in these pages; she had torn out each and every scrap of her soul before the gods, and it hadn’t changed a thing. The gods didn’t care about her misery. The world didn’t care. Life went on like nothing ever happened.
A glimpse of golden light caught her eye. A tiny reflection on the silver surface of the watch. She still wasn’t sure what prompted Partitio to give her a gift this expensive out of nowhere, but that was one of the many things about him that still remained a mystery to her. Knowing him, maybe there wasn’t anything to it and he just felt like doing something nice. That was so like him. And he had no idea what that was doing to her.
“Would you please listen to me, Floyd?”
Thurston’s exasperated tone suggested he’d been trying to catch Floyd's attention for a while now, and Ori realized how much she had been spacing out herself. She had to pay more attention in case someone tried to talk to her. Her job didn’t involve much more than attending Partitio's presentation and taking a few notes, but for some reason he insisted she’d be here, and that meant everyone else knew she was here too. The best she could do was not look like someone who was desperate to be just about anywhere else.
“I’m always listening.” Floyd half-twisted away from his work in what looked like an attempt to meet the absolute minimum requirement for looking at people while talking to them without having to take his hands off his precious prototype for even a moment. Unfortunately for him, Thurston was either too professional or too done with his antics (or both) to acknowledge his flexible display of adhering to social norms.
“You will take a break right now, and you will do it where I can keep an eye on you. I’ll see you in my office in five minutes, and you better not be late.”
Floyd looked like he was about to say something, but now that their conversation had attracted the attention of half the room, he wisely decided to spare himself further embarrassment after the Throné incident.
“Five minutes. Got it.” Clearly he wasn’t too happy about the prospect of leaving his beloved machine all alone, as the look he gave it was nothing short of wistful, but he nevertheless started to take off his work gloves to assure Thurston he wasn’t plotting to get out of this.
Partitio could learn a thing or two about getting him to comply here, Ori thought.
But before another set of unwanted thoughts of Partitio could take root in her mind, an unexpected detail caught her attention.
She’d never seen Floyd without his gloves before, and until now it never occurred to her to give that fact much thought, even though she was vaguely aware he never took them off even outside the factory. She’d written it off as just another of his odd quirks, perhaps because he wanted to be able to get back to work as fast as possible after a break.
She did not expect the strange scars that littered his hands.
If they even were scars—none of the ones she had seen in her life looked anything like this intricate pattern of white lines. Cuts, burns, damage from magic attacks—she couldn’t think of an injury that caused anything like this. And Floyd wasn’t a fighter, what injuries could he possibly get that weren’t related to his job? Hell, she had seen steam burns too and those were nothing like these odd lines at all.
(The scars reminded her of the cracks in the stone walls of her hometown, and the lightning magic she practiced as a child. She never quite got the hang of spellcasting.)
But there was no time for further observations when Floyd and Thurston were leaving for their well-deserved break, and a coffee cup appeared in her field of vision. Ori was not the slightest bit keen on the idea that someone was paying attention to her; she thought she could blend in just fine with all the other employees doing their important jobs, and her most important job was obviously to review her notes, which was not a task she had expected to be interrupted by anyone.
Of course she never had that much luck.
Holding the cup in question was a blonde woman Ori instantly recognized as one half of the infamous customer service duo and the main reason she strategically avoided certain locations when she came into work. Partitio had picked up Lisette and her sister somewhere in Clockbank after she helped him out with someone causing trouble, and he claimed he’d never seen anyone settle a dispute as fast as she did, though when pressed on the details, he was quite vague. That and the rumors Ori had heard about the inhabitants of Clockbank gave her plenty of reasons to exercise some very justified caution around that woman.
“It’s about time these two get a room,” Lisette remarked with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Floyd gets insufferable to be around when Thurston doesn’t knock some sense into him every once in a while.”
Ori took the offered coffee, no doubt the one Partitio had procured from Tropu'hopu and added to the department store’s wares at Alrond's request. Apparently his servant loved coffee, but it was hard to come by in the Leaflands. It seemed some very mundane problems couldn’t be easily solved even with all the money in the world after all.
The cup was a welcome object to hide behind from any unwanted scrutiny, even if its content wasn’t likely to help with her headache. Lisette’s attention was getting unnerving. It reminded her too much of herself back when she was out gathering information for the order.
“Girl, you look terrible,” Lisette said after another, more exasperated sigh. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
"Partitio wants me there.” Ori took a sip of her coffee. It was suprisingly good, compared to what used to pass as coffee back at her old workplace. “All I need to do is take notes. Same thing I’ve always done.”
“And you know Partitio would be the first to personally carry you to the nearest apothecary if you told him you’re not feeling well.” Lisette was evidently not impressed by her attempt to deflect. “You don’t need to do everything he tells you no matter what, you know that, right?”
Ori shifted uncomfortably; in her entire life she had never not done what someone else told her to do and she was not about to start unraveling that in the middle of business meeting preparations, but more pressing was the issue of Lisette seeing right through her mask. She was supposed to be the capable assistant and everyone else was supposed to perceive her as such. If other people noticed her disguise slipping so easily, that was a problem.
She turned her attention back to her coffee. Maybe ignoring the question would get the point across that her mental peculiarities weren’t up for debate today. Especially not with someone who was at the center of multiple rumors about more unsavory ways of handling company affairs. Not that Partitio would actually allow an employee to threaten people, of course.
To her relief, Lisette took the hint gracefully enough, with only one last comment on how Ori should “think about it,” and left her to her thoughts again. As if she could just stop doing what was expected of her after a lifetime of following instructions. As if she knew how to live without a belief to cling to, however misguided. And she was still supposed to thank Partitio properly for saving her life and didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about that when even back when her hand slipped at the mere thought of him, she wasn’t sure she really wanted him to.
Ugh. Partitio kept creeping back into her thoughts every time thoughts of him were the last thing she needed. The stakes of his business presentation weren’t quite as high as those of plunging the world into eternal darkness; nevertheless, he was interfering with the things she had to do and if she was going to do any sort of soul-searching, she would have time for it after taking care of her tasks, thank you very much. Oboro would be so proud of her. (If, of course, she hadn't failed to carry out the task he gave her, and siding with the enemy was inexcusable in any case.)
Floyd’s abandoned steam engine was as good a distraction as any, even if she still didn’t understand much of its inner workings, but taking a look at it couldn’t hurt, if only so she could pretend she knew what her boss was dealing with. The first model had been impressive, the second one even more so, and somehow Floyd had managed to squeeze everything into an even smaller and lighter machine in an inhumanly short span of time since he and Partitio spent that night in Clockbank learning how to even build the big ones with the help of a clockmaker of all things. Sometimes Ori wondered if there was something about mining town guys from the Wildlands in particular that let them achieve the most outlandish feats through nothing but sheer willpower, then she remembered what was going on in other parts of that region and decided not to pursue these thoughts further in order to preserve some semblance of sanity.
It was decidedly more likely that Floyd was simply more productive because he was way better off under Partitio’s new business model. He’d been hiding (or denying) it well enough at the time, but Ori was skilled enough in deriving information from the smallest sources that she saw the signs of his underlying exhaustion through his enthusiasm and passion for his work throughout her entire observation in Clockbank. (Partitio, as expected, did not.)
Floyd was as reluctant to take breaks as ever, even after Throné’s little intervention, but at least now he went home after work every once in a while and presumably got enough hours of sleep not to look quite so spaced out anymore. Ori could appreciate dedication to one’s work, but Floyd used to push it even by her standards (not that she was worried about him, it simply would’ve been a problem if working himself to death had put an end to Partitio’s steam engine plans before they had the chance to take off).
Now he was out here making another new steam engine as if the existence of the last one wasn’t already implausible enough, and it was all thanks to whatever Partitio inspired in people that made them come up with the wildest plans to help him along in his quest. Floyd, of course, was happy to just keep doing what he had always been doing, and his stubborn belief in a better future had to almost rival Partitio’s if even the likes of Roque and his shady contracts weren’t enough to deter him.
How Partitio had managed to rope a presumed criminal (and not of the repenting sort, it seemed) into his schemes was harder to work out, though Lisette was obviously still maintaining a healthy amount of skepticism around the president. But Ori supposed there were certain benefits in associating with the most powerful company president in the history of Solistia that could come in handy for someone connected to Clockbank’s rather questionable inhabitants.
Roque’s complete change of heart still baffled her the most, even with the former close connection between him and Partitio that had never fully recovered. That was one thing that still made sense about Partitio—he was forgiving, yes, but that kind of betrayal ran deep enough that even he didn’t come out unscathed. And then there was Thurston, who was at the very low end on the list of people Ori pegged as easily swayed by Partitio’s boundless optimism, and who in a rather curious sort of twist didn’t seem at all interested in power or fame, or even wealth. As far as Ori’s incomplete observations went, somewhere along the way he must have inexplicably shed his personal disdain for Partitio, and Partitio wasn’t one to hold a grudge for more than five minutes anyway.
And none of that could even begin to compare to what he pulled off in Wellgrove.
Partitio had been gone for far too long now, and Ori was beginning to worry. Fetching Alrond for an inspection of the freshly completed department store shouldn’t have been a matter of more than an hour or so, even with the man’s impossibly large front yard between them. On Partitio’s first trip to the mansion, that was as far as Ori felt comfortable following him. She’d chalked the sudden feeling of dread up to the wide open space and the associations with her childhood—never, ever put yourself in a situation where the enemy can spot you before you spot them—and finding a path through the woods took too long and carried too much of a risk of her losing track of Partitio, so she decided to wait. If she wasn’t completely mistaken about the merchant, he’d proudly spill the relevant details of the deal for everyone to hear soon enough.
Only that “soon” did not come as soon as Ori expected, because it was close to two hours now and even the merchants were getting restless. There was always the possibility that Alrond had found a way to back out of the deal, as powerful people tended to do when they could get away with it and their business partners were too naive and idealistic to be prepared for that possibility. Maybe she should leave this store behind and go find Partitio in time before he left Wellgrove, to offer to listen to his predictable tale of broken hopes and dreams before they went their separate ways and never thought of each other again until there was nothing left in the world to even have a thought anymore.
That didn’t happen either. Instead, while Ori carefully ducked through hedges as she made her way to Alrond’s mansion, she spotted Partitio’s obnoxiously yellow coat heading in her direction, accompanied by Alrond’s equally hard to miss bright red one. So much for the man’s reputation of keeping a low profile. Alrond seemed to have more of a habit of showing up when people least expected him.
“Partitio, wait!”
Now that Ori got a closer look, Partitio seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and Alrond was struggling to keep up with him. He did, in fact, not wait or even slow down at all until Alrond managed to get close enough to grab his coat and unceremoniously yanked him back to get his attention.
“Oof. What was that for?” Partitio asked, trying to keep his hat in place after being pulled off balance without warning.
"You couldn’t give us a few minutes to make ourselves look more... presentable?” Alrond seemed rather unimpressed by Partitio’s reaction. With one hand he tried to smooth over his unusually disheveled hair while fishing around for something in his coat with the other. An odd detail, Ori noted, but now that they were closer, she could see that they both looked a little frazzled. More so than she would have expected from a regular old business meeting with a noble who looked nothing short of immaculate the last time he stopped by the department store to see its progress for himself.
Now his hair was a mess that he tried to get under control with a comb he had somehow dug up from the depths of his coat, thrown over his similarly rumpled clothes. Partitio was in no better shape; his coat concealed it well enough from casual glances, but Ori’s trained eyes easily spotted how the shirt underneath was torn in places, and that truly didn’t match up with what Ori knew about business negotiations, nor did the dark marks that were visible through one of the holes—oh.
Apparently they had been conducting a rather different sort of business, if Ori was reading the signs right.
Somewhere deep in her mind she felt a sharp pang of disgust that Partitio would even think of resorting to such tactics, but he still claimed he was acting in everyone’s best interest, and for eighty billion leaves Ori suspected many people would be ready and willing to do way worse. Still, Partitio of all people, the man who acted like he was out to save the world by just being absurdly, impossibly good, was not above playing the games of rich creeps when he was supposed to be better than that and—
Ugh. She had to get a grip on herself and stop thinking about those things, or she’d miss the crucial information she was actually here for. And it wasn’t like her to put that much faith into Partitio’s integrity like he was supposed to be some kind of... of...
Was the sun always this bright?
Ori closed her eyes just long enough for the sudden wave of nausea to pass, and then pushed down her discomfort and disappointment away to focus on the task at hand.
“Sorry ‘bout that. I got a bit carried away there.” To his credit, Partitio had the decency to look a little guilty. And it didn’t seem like the encounter had gone all that right, if Alrond’s unusually tense posture was any indication. Something had gone wrong since their last meeting at the store, and Ori could only hope it wasn’t enough to call off their deal. As much as she expected this whole affair to be nothing but a flight of fancy, and Alrond to change his mind once the novelty of Partitio’s bold proposal wore off and he got what he wanted and Partitio learned he couldn’t do a damn thing about the whims of the rich and powerful, some small part of her was still clinging to the faint idea that Partitio truly was the single one exception to the norm life had hammered into her again and again.
If nothing else, it was a good sign that they were still on speaking terms, even though Ori couldn’t quite come up with a reason why Alrond would want to entertain Partitio’s delusions to the extent he did when he didn’t particularly seem to enjoy this part of the experience anymore. Not that she could claim to understand what was going on in the heads of people who lived their lives that far removed from reality, but now that the department store was finished either way, there wasn’t anything in it for Alrond that warranted tolerating Partitio’s antics for a moment longer than necessary—unless their “negotiations” went well enough that keeping an unreasonably idealistic guy like Partitio around for a little fun was worth putting up with the downsides. Ori could feel herself getting sick again and it had nothing to do with the sunlight this time.
“So I’ve noticed.” Alrond finished, or rather gave up on, adjusting his clothes—his coat was massive enough to hide any incriminating evidence anyway, Ori supposed. “It seems that getting carried away is one of your special talents. First that ridiculous contract, and now this?”
Ori could only speculate what “this” was supposed to be, but if it had to do with any intimate activities, Alrond’s reaction as the one setting the terms would be decidedly different. Maybe Partitio didn’t have to resort to unsavory means of acquiring funding after all.
But he had done something, and Alrond wasn’t having it.
“I stand by everything I said.” From what Ori could tell, Partitio was equally on edge, an uncharacteristically defiant tone in his normally cheerful and friendly voice, and Ori was momentarily taken aback by both the hint of a hardness she had never witnessed in him before and the foolishness to talk like that to the lord of a town of all people. Did this man have no sense of self-preservation at all?
Alrond crossed his arms; while he was far more receptive to Partitio’s attempts to justify himself than Ori had expected him to be, he obviously couldn’t have a country merchant talk back to him without some display of displeasure. “Even if it means I may change my mind about our arrangement?”
Okay, this was serious after all. Partitio had messed up somewhere, in a way that... somehow looped back into Alrond still being intrigued enough not to cancel the deal on the spot and give him the opportunity to explain himself, strangely enough.
“Yeah. I’m in this to help people, and that means everyone who needs help. If that means the deal is off, I’m gonna find another way.” Partitio adjusted his hat again; Ori didn’t have to see his face to know he was dead serious. If he had any less common sense, and by some miracle Alrond didn’t have enough of him yet and was still willing to hold up his end of the bargain, he’d end up handing the eighty billion leaves to some swindler on the side of the road who told him a sob story about his five starving children or something. Like any of those rats even knew what true poverty was like.
Alrond’s voice softened a little. “My only condition was the department store. Perhaps next time I should insist on a proper contract that accounts for... unexpected circumstances.”
“Does that mean you’re not kicking me out of your town yet?”
“Do I have a choice? Frankly, the thought that you might drag another unsuspecting person into this scares me.” Alrond sighed. “And knowing my fellow nobles, you won’t be so lucky next time. Go on, show me your results.”
Partitio grinned, back to his usual self in a split second. After almost believing there was something special to his uncanny business sense, Ori was now beginning to think he might just be plain insane.
His cheerful demeanor was short-lived, though; what Ori figured was supposed to be a triumphant fist pump ended halfway through the motion with a flinch and an exclamation of “aw, fuck” indicating some sort of pain or injury Ori truly couldn’t reconcile with anything she imagined went on in a lord’s mansion on an average weekday.
Before Alrond could even so much as raise an eyebrow, Partitio held up his hand. “Don’t say anything.”
By the looks of it, Alrond had plenty to say, but he too seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as Ori about Partitio’s mental facilities and opted for a more tactful approach this time. “I was going to say you should have given your apothecary friend more than a minute to treat you.”
“Can’t do. I got a department store to show you.”
And off they went, leaving Ori behind in the bushes as Partitio gave his benefactor an enthusiastic rundown of the products he had acquired from all over Solistia. She thought it best to keep some distance between them in the interest of not getting spotted at the last moment and ruining her surprise entrance. Plausible deniability was on her side, being a scrivener and all, but there was no need for Partitio to get suspicious this close to the end of his journey.
Or any of the other travelers, for that matter. She had definitely seen some of them accompany Partitio to Alrond’s mansion earlier, and now that she thought about it, they were likely not going to hang around for more intimate negotiations, so that ruled out her earlier theory. Or at least she desperately hoped it did. She never knew with these people.
More importantly, there was a deeply unpleasant feeling settling in her stomach in addition to the headache, and she knew it did not come from sampling the food she had talked off some of the merchants earlier. Suddenly she didn’t feel like facing Partitio so soon anymore, even though all there was left to do was to gently push him in the direction of Roque Island and sneak onto a cargo ship for the final step of her plan. (Her plan, not her brother’s. Oboro didn’t really care all that much about what Partitio did with his newfound wealth, but he was always open to her taking opportunities to spy on the travelers he deemed more important.)
Something was wrong, and for the first time, she had a feeling that it wasn’t something wrong with her, but with Partitio.
In the end, everything had worked out exactly as Partitio had planned. The department store promised a better future for Wellgrove, Alrond was thoroughly impressed, and Ori managed not to pass out halfway through the opening ceremony. She informed Partitio of Roque’s upcoming announcement, and as expected, he practically jumped at the chance to confront his old mentor. Ori briefly considered that asking if she could go with him would make her work much easier for her—he had his own ship, after all—but the constant pulsating stabbing in her head made her rethink that idea almost immediately.
The gods really like to punish me. Ori stuffed her notebook back into her pocket as she watched Partitio disappear into the sunlight.
Just what is it about you that draws me in just to turn me away again?
“Ori?”
Ori blinked. The world looked oddly out of focus.
She didn’t remember falling asleep. She was fairly sure she hadn’t been sleeping at all.
“Ori!”
This time, she snapped out of her dazed state to be greeted by the sight of a frowning Partitio.
“Wha—! Don’t startle me like that!” As much as Ori would have loved to pretend that slipping out of her seat was part of her old endearing act, Partitio really had caught her off guard.
Oboro would be so disappointed.
“Are you okay, Ori?” Partitio helped her up; Ori tried to ignore how his hand felt through the sleeve of her shirt. Anxiety tingled under her skin, but she fought it down to give Partitio no more reason to worry. Her mask was already slipping enough.
“Fine as always!” There she was, the old cheerful Ori. Hopefully holding up long enough to make it through the rest of the day.
Thankfully, Partitio was as easy to fool as ever. “Good! Ready for the presentation?”
Before it could register in her mind as a possibly bad idea, Ori smiled. “Are you?”
“Thanks to your help.” The look Partitio gave her seemed to last a little too long, but if anything was on his mind, he kept it to himself.
“Well then,” she said and walked past him. Her head was still pounding, and she wanted some distance between them. “What are you waiting for?”
The conference room wasn’t her favorite place in the building; far too much open space that made her feel exposed and dredged up memories she rather left dead and buried. Luckily she wasn’t an important part of this event. Partitio only wanted her to listen. After he learned the whole truth about her hatred of humanity from her journal, he was dead set on proving to her that people could work together for a better future. Yes, maybe he had a point in that his company’s mere existence was solid evidence that a ragtag bunch of people from all walks of life (including very questionable ones) could do something together for a period of time without slaughtering each other, but Ori wasn’t fully convinced yet. The entire future of Floyd’s outrageous inventions still hinged on the goodwill of their investors, and Alrond was just one rare exception to the greedy, selfish norm. Even Partitio had to admit that his idealism could only carry him so far before it crashed into the brick wall of reality.
She found a spot in one of the corners where it would be easy to blend into the background while everyone was busy with more important things than paying attention to her. Just like old times, in Timberain’s courtroom or during Hikari’s coronation ceremony (Oboro had insisted she attended this one to remind her who their true enemy was), or even in that little bar where Partitio and Floyd celebrated their first step on Partitio’s path to glory.
There was nothing else to do for her but wait for Partitio to finish psyching himself up, as everything had been set up in advance—he insisted that she did nothing but observe this time. Any other time before the night she would have been eager to uncover more of his secrets, but now that she got the chance, all she felt was anxiety. Perhaps it would’ve been better if things stayed the way they used to be, with both of them blissfully unaware of the depths lurking behind their carefree masks, until the night took them both and they would never know—
Pull yourself together! This is a business meeting, not the damn day of judgment. You’re not dead, he’s not dead, and you can’t keep reading too much into this. He’s just a merchant who happened to get lucky a few too many times and ended up saving your life, that’s all. Stop being so paranoid.
There wasn’t much of a point in going insane before the presentation, so she forced her attention on the people attending instead. They were just about what she expected—more like Roque than Partitio, and for the most part not quite as intrigued as they were the first time around. The novelty of a no-name merchant coming out of nowhere and taking over the largest company in the world was beginning to wear off, and while the steam locomotive had undoubtedly been a significant improvement for everyone, the diminishing returns of another minor revision for their own baseline couldn’t be denied. And in the end, that was all that mattered to them, progress be damned.
Naturally, Roque himself was there, as well as a rather inconspicuous man who, like Ori, seemed to prefer not to draw anyone’s attention. Unlike everyone else, he appeared rather unbothered by the prospect of wasting money on another of Partitio’s pet projects. If anything, he looked eager to get this meeting on the way—a fact no one else caught on to, as Partitio had informed everyone that Lord Alrond would regrettably not be able to attend this meeting either, busy as he was. Ori wondered how long they would be able to keep the act up, but people who were too blind to anything but their own influence were easy to fool. If nothing else, she had to give Alrond credit for his ability to exploit that fact for his own amusement without drawing anyone’s suspicion.
At last, Partitio himself showed up, and the room went quiet. The unease Ori had been able to put aside earlier came creeping back, her sense of impending danger tingling uncomfortably. His presence had never been so commanding. Ori had seen him deep in thought, focused on the details of a new business idea, even standing his ground in battle, but not even that compared to the sheer power radiating from him like sunlight reflected in a mirror, searing his image into the minds of everyone who looked to closely.
It stirred a memory in her mind, terrifyingly familiar.
Partitio had the attention of everyone in the room before he even said a word, and when he started explaining the improvements Floyd had made to the previous steam engine model, everyone listened without so much as a sound of disbelief. Ori tried to focus, but the unnatural silence tugged at her nerves so much she could barely follow the basics. And looking at Partitio, at the flickers of golden light dancing around him, sent a searing pain through her head that was worse than everything she had ever experienced before.
Something else hurt much, much deeper than that.
Partitio wouldn’t betray her, would he? He wouldn’t hide something more sinister behind the smiles and grand ideas of a merchant who just so happened to have everything he needed at his disposal to make the impossible come true? He was just an ordinary human, far better than Ori ever believed humans could be, but there was nothing strange about sharing his big fantastical dreams with the world or the fact that everyone trusted him or the way his words and promises slipped into her head almost effortlessly to tease her with endless possibilities and weaved their way into everything around her, seemingly altering the very fabric of reality—
Their eyes met, and in the erratic flashes of gold in his gaze, Ori finally realized.
No.
No.
That couldn’t be true.
And yet he looked at her with the same eyes of the statue of the Trader looking down on her when she raised the knife to her heart in one last act of defiance, of hatred for all the gods stood for, helpless to do more than stain their holy flame with her blood.
He looked away again, but she had seen too much. He was not who she thought he was, and she had known the entire time that there wasn’t something quite right about the confidence with which he talked Roque into agreeing to an outrageous contract, how he knew exactly where and how to look for the right resources for Floyd’s steam engine prototype, how he looked at an abandoned building and no doubt saw his future department store in the confines of time and a future reality. And the memories of all the times she had to look away because he seemed so bright, all those memories her brain cut off to protect herself the moment she touched the flame and looked upon the gods and knew what it all meant—she remembered now, in this moment that should’ve been nothing more than an ordinary business meeting between ordinary people and not an unbearable miracle too much for her to process.
It made all too much sense.
The way she couldn’t look at any of the travelers for too long for reasons she never understood until now.
Why had she never asked herself how the eight of them were able to withstand Vide? How the presence of a god that shouldn’t exist, in a space and time that didn’t exist, didn’t tear their very existence apart in its impossibility far beyond the comprehension of mortals?
That merchant in Wellgrove, he had called Partitio the Trader himself, and if only she hadn’t blocked out that memory as well, she would have known...
Before she started to believe that there could be more between her and Partitio than awkward avoidance and more lies.
Before she started to believe she could trust someone again.
How could she possibly trust a god?
Somehow she managed not to throw up on the spot or pass out when she stood up a little too fast, hoping against hope no one would notice. But everyone’s attention was firmly on Partitio, and he was now busy pointing out various details on Floyd’s sketches. That was her chance to slip out of the room unnoticed before Partitio looked at her again with the inhuman eyes of the gods that made her entire life a living hell.
No one was out here. She could still make it out before she was caught.
The hallways she had been walking for months without a second thought now seemed entirely unfamiliar, like the stony corridors of a ruined shrine shrouded in darkness. If she was going to make it out of here, she had to focus.
Focus. Focus. Focus, focus focus focus focus—
—on your mission, Ori—
"No!" Ori screamed into the empty corridors. The echo of her voice laughed back at her.
Poor, naive, stupid little girl. You thought you could outsmart the gods, but they knew, they knew every step you would take they knew you would fall for his words they knew they knew they knew—
She’d been running for hours, or maybe only for a minute, when the suffocating heat gave way to biting cold and she tripped on the snow-covered ground outside the factory. She didn’t get up. There was nothing to get up for. Nothing that wouldn’t get ripped out of her hands the moment she gathered the courage to reach for it.
Hope was a lie. The tiny part of her that had just begun to believe that maybe the world had something worth living for was a lie.
And Partitio was the biggest lie of all.
Partitio was everything she had left, the only reason she was alive.
Partitio's true nature was the one thing she could never, ever accept.
Ori didn’t get up.
And for the first time in her life, she cried.