A Parisian Stroll

Misao, after having collected their art supplies from their rooms, has made their way (with help from the pages) into the entrance courtyard of the Louvre and is sketching various views of Paris with an eye to creating a place Trump.

Vere exits the Louvre after a short but refreshing sleep and a hearty breakfast. Noticing the artist he approaches from one side, making sure that he can be seen and won't be a surprise. He nods a greeting as he approaches, but does not speak at first, not wishing to interrupt them if they are concentrating on their art.

Misao looks up from their paper, sets it carefully to one side, stands, and bows slightly.

"We meet for the first time. I am of Hikariguni, the child of Kimiko-dono, and of Xanadu, the child of Lucasu-dono, the son of Fiorimeru-ohime, the daughter of Oberon. I am well and I hope you are also well."

Vere returns the bow. "Well met, indeed. I, too, am well, and rejoice that you are. I am Vere, Prince of the Isles of the Dannan, child of Corvis, former Priestess-Queen of the Isles, and Prince Gerard, son of Oberon. We had no chance to speak earlier, but I was part of the group who rescued you." He smiles. "I was a friend of your father."

Misao smiles warmly. "Your father and particularly your mother were very helpful and welcoming to me. I greatly appreciate their assistance. And yours, Veru-ooji. How may I be of service to you?"

"I am on a brief hiatus of my various quests at the moment," Vere answers with a quiet laugh. "In theory I am currently aiding Queen Celina in a mission, but she appears to have headed off without me. Pending her return, or hearing from Prince Jerod, who was also a leader of that mission, I am awaiting instructions on what I am to do. I thought to take this opportunity to make the acquaintance of a newly arrived cousin, if that is agreeable to you?"

Misao smiles. "It is most agreeable. Please, sit." They retake their seat, moving items to make room for Vere.

"What would you like to know?"

Vere takes a seat and for a moment looks over the view of the Louvre, appreciating the visual aesthetics. Then he turns his attention back to Misao. "Tell me of yourself, cousin's child. Your upbringing, your land, your relations with your father. I would know you, to the extent that you are comfortable sharing your past."

Misao begins, "I am of Hikariguni, which is a land of gods and ghosts..."

Misao basically repeats what they told Solace and Celina earlier. Gods, kami, their mother, order. Ghosts, yokai, themselves, chaos. Shapeshifting, although they do not volunteer to demonstrate their forms as of yet. Otoosan was nurturing and kind, but seldom there.

They finish and wait to see if Vere has specific questions.

Vere listens with intense interest, allowing them to speak without any questions or interruptions. After they have finished he nods. "In many ways, our stories are similar," he says. "My mother was the Priestess-Queen of the Isles, and while not divine, she was the speaker for the Goddess of our land. I was not her heir, as only women can inherit in the Isles, but I was raised as a Prince. Father was an occasional, much loved visitor, but absent more often than not. Perhaps the greatest difference is that he told me of Amber and the greater universe of infinite worlds."

Misao nods. "It does seem so. And so now, I am looking to find my feet in this larger world. I am... creating a map, if you will... by learning as much as I can. As you can see," they indicate their sketches, "I am trying to learn about Paris. I appreciate the chance to learn about you."

Misao smiles.

"Would you tell me more of yourself? And how you knew my father?"

Vere smiles again. "Seeking knowledge is also my preferred method of becoming accustomed to a new situation," he says. "I was considered too feminine in the Isles, where the pursuit of knowledge is considered the rightful domain of women. Men are supposed to focus on warfare and the arts, and proper submission to the women in their life." His smile grows slightly larger. "I did excel in military and artistic matters, at least."

He leans back in his chair. "When the forces of Order marched on Chaos my father brought me from the Isles to Amber, as did many other parents. My father was left as the Regent, and when he was injured the younger members of the family formed a Regency Council. Lucas and I both served on that Council."

He pauses to see if she has any questions about what he has said so far.

Vere can see Misao's focus intensify, as their smile drops, leaving a serious expression behind.

"A war between Order and Chaos? When was this?" is all they say.

"The forces of Chaos began working against us long, long ago, but they did so in secret for a long time." Vere shakes his head. "Order is apparently an affront to many of them, merely by its existence. My understanding is that Order can arise spontaneously within the eddies and currents of Chaos, and self-willed beings of Chaos can spontaneously arise and maintain themselves, primarily by devouring other such beings of lesser power. One such being was Dworkin Barimen, who created a stable realm of Order and is the founder of our Family, being my great-grandfather and your great-great grandfather. He still exists, and has spoken to some members of the Family recently, but, alas, I have yet to meet him." Vere frowns, as though that is something of a sore point.

"The war eventually broke out into more open conflict, when Chaos found a way to extend its power throughout Reality to the very gates of Amber, in the form of the Black Road. This manifested throughout the Shadows of the Universe in a variety of forms. In the Isles, it was the Black Forest, a region of evil growths and monstrous creatures. I led warriors against them in the days before Father came to take me to Amber. My Uncle Brand, your great-uncle, was a traitor to Order, and assisted them in severely damaging the very foundation of Order. Our elders took the war to the Abyss itself, the very source of Chaos, while King Oberon sought to repair the damage done by Brand. He succeeded, at the cost of his life, and his sacrifice ended the war."

Misao nods. "That sounds very familiar. In Hikariguni, we had the Kurogawa, the Black River. Malign yokai multiplied, and yokai that are normally no more than mischievous became cruel in that time. My mother and I fought them, with our allies, but they closed in on us slowly but inevitably. Until one day, they just... disappeared."

"Indeed. That was Grandfather's sacrifice rewriting the nature of Reality, and banishing the Chaosi from the Ordered realms." He sighs. "There were repercussions. Amber was cut off from its primacy as a seat of Order, and in the cataclysm that accompanied that - we call it The Sundering - a part of Amber Castle collapsed. This is when my Father was injured." He gazes over Misao's left shoulder, as though at a distant vision only he can see. After a moment he shakes his head and returns his gaze to Misao. "I first made your father's acquaintance during the aftermath of that, when he was making inappropriate jokes during the recovery of the dead and wounded from the ruins of the castle."

Misao nods. "I do not remember Otoosan as being very inappropriate... at least I only remember it when he drank. In Hikariguni, alcohol is often used as a way of... allowing things to surface... that are normally kept below the surface."

"It was, to a great extent, protective coloration," Vere says. "Your father liked to appear to his relatives as more concerned with pleasure and his own amusement than anything else. It was only once I came to know him that I saw how very clever he was." He taps his lips with a finger for a moment, thinking. "It is a trait he shared with his mother, and I think something she taught him, either consciously or simply by example, as a way to appear non threatening in the days of King Oberon, when the members of the Royal Family were more..." he pauses for a moment, looking for the right phrasing, "...let us say, more concerned with their own agendas than the well being of their relatives."

Vere regards Misao silently for a moment, then asks, "Have you met your grandmother yet?"

Misao shakes their head. "I am told that she is very busy at the moment. I am hoping to spend some time under her tutelage prior to waking the Pattern. From what I have heard of her, she sounds... formidable."

"She is fond of protocol, propriety, politeness, elegance and grace," Vere says. "I believe that these are all truly important to her, but she also uses them as a mask to hide her true nature. I believe many who do not know her are fooled into thinking her shallow and superficial, concerned only with appearances. It is an effective camouflage." He nods. "Her tutelage in the ways of the court, and the secrets of the Family, would serve you very well."

Misao smiles. "She and my mother would appear to have a lot in common, then."

Misao pauses for a moment, the continues. "It would be... logical to assume that since she is located here in Paris, that Paris also values protocol, propriety, politeness, elegance, and grace. But... sometimes things that are obviously logical mask things that... are less so. And having met Korwin-kokuoo... I feel that the things that he values are different.

"What do you think, cousin? What is this Paris?"

Vere laughs. "King Corwin puts more stock in the values of protocol and propriety than King Random, but that is as far as I would go. I have heard that Florimel lived for a time in a Shadow of Paris, and that Lucas was born there, though I know no details. That, I think, is a reason for her fondness for the place." He muses for a moment, then adds, "Also, when she made the decision to move here Random had a Queen. Corwin does not, and Flora has taken over many of the social duties of that position. It gives her a position of power and authority here that she would not have in Xanadu."

"...Had a Queen...?" Misao sounds confused. "Do your rulers not rule alone?"

"Oberon had a series of wives, who took the title of Queen, and they had a great deal of social power and influence." Vere tilts his head to one side as he thinks back over what he's read and heard. "So far as I know he only had one wife at a time, although he apparently had mistresses as well. The fact that his children had different mothers was apparently a major factor in the rivalries of the elder generation."

Misao looks thoughtful at this, but does not interrupt.

He leans forward in his seat. "Random was already married when he became king. Has anyone mentioned Vialle to you yet?"

"I...do not believe so."

"Then this is something you should probably hear. Random was forced to marry Vaille, a blind noblewoman of Rebma, by Queen Moire." Vere waves a hand. "I shall not go into the reasons behind that now. Suffice it to say that to the surprise of all, the marriage seemed to work, and they seemed happy together. Vialle was left in Amber while the forces of Order went to fight Chaos, and acted as an advisor to the Regent and his Council during the Sundering. When Random returned as King she became his Queen, and all seemed well between them for a while." He sighs. "But it seems that the Queen of Air and Darkness, Queen of the Moonriders, worked against him, and Vialle became her witting or unwitting pawn. Her degree of complicity is still unknown, but she has escaped Xanadu. Our current relationship with the Moonriders is ... complicated. They are an ancient enemy, their supposed Queen has actively worked against us, and yet the daughter of their Marshall has delivered herself into our hands as a hostage for peace negotiations."

Vere smiles at Misao once again. "Were he still alive, I would be discussing this with your father. I mentioned how he hid his cleverness, yes? I slowly came to realize that he was involved in clandestine information gathering, along with Prince Martin, the son of King Random."

Misao does not return the smile, but has a solemn expression. "This... is very complicated, cousin." They pause for a moment.

"Are you saying that it may be expected of me... to take my father's place in this?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Vere smiles. "I merely thought that you would be interested in learning that your father had such a role. Especially since you may hear from others, who did not know such things, that Lucas was shallow and of no true importance to the Family. I wanted you to know that such was merely a pose he affected, for his own amusement." He laughs quietly. "And yes, the politics of the Royal Family and our enemies and allies is very complicated. I am giving you no more than a very cursory overview of the complexities, so that you will be aware of the many currents swirling around even the most innocuous of statements."

Vere looks at the Louvre then, and grows silent, as though he is considering something.

Misao nods. "I see. I thank you." A pause and then, "it does occur to me... that a shapeshifter could become... quite good at information gathering. If it were required."

Vere turns his attention away from the Louvre and mirrors Misao's nod. "Indeed. If you are interested in pursuing this thought Prince Martin is the person to speak with. He manages such matters for his father. Have you had a chance to meet Prince Merlin yet? He is the son of King Corwin, and the sister of Queen Celina. He was raised in Chaos, and is a shapeshifter himself."

Misao smiles. "We fought together at the hospital where I was imprisoned. I would love to train with him." They sigh. "But first I must walk the Pattern. And I am bound to help Serina-jooo with her... mission... to deal with Moire. Which is one reason I am hoping to find Obaasan sooner rather than later as I understand... that she is attempting to do the same."

"Yes, that is so." Vere glances at the Louvre once more, then appears to make a decision. "Misao, you referred to your home as a place of gods and ghosts. Do your people believe in ghosts, then? The spirits of the dead, remaining behind after their lives are over, to complete unfinished business, to find revenge, or simply because they are confused and lost?"

Misao blinks in surprise. "'Ghosts' is how I would translate the word 'yokai' into Thari. They make up the majority of the beings in Hikariguni. Some are spirits of the dead, yes, but most are not. Either way, they don't require belief. They are."

Vere nods. "Such spirits as you speak of do not mix commonly with humanity in the Isles..." he frowns, shakes his head, and corrects himself, "...did not mix with humanity as a rule, but they were common in our tales and legends. The spirits of the dead were another matter, at least for me. I have been able to speak with the dead since I was 15. Many of the members of our family do not appreciate such things, believing either that the ghosts I speak with are naught but delusion or wishful thinking, or simply believing that the dead are better left alone." He smiles very slightly. "For all of their awesome powers and abilities, most of our family are very pragmatic and practical, I have found."

Misao smiles. "I wonder what your experience of Hikariguni would be like." They pause for a moment.

"To change the topic slightly, I was hoping to get to know Paris better. I would like to make a Trump of it if I can. Would it be impolite of me to ask you for your company or did I interrupt you in your duties?"

"As long as the palace staff knows where I am in case I am needed, I am completely at your service," Vere replies. "I have visited Paris a few times, but am still not fully familiar with it." He smiles slightly. "I have the benefit of having seen it from the air, which was a truly remarkable experience."

Misao blinks. "What was that like?" they ask as they pack up their sketching supplies.

Vere stands and stretches. "It was quite remarkable. It was the first time I have ever been on an airship, with the land spread out beneath us as we flew silently among the clouds." A bittersweet smile crosses his face. "It came at the end of the Exodus, when I led the people of the Isles away from their doomed homeland. Another crime for which Uncle Huon is responsible, and arrogantly refuses to even consider a crime."

"That... seems like an odd way to fly, to me." Misao picks up the box of sketches and gestures to Vere to lead the way.

"Huono-san was the person who first helped me at the hospital, yes? He was calling himself Etana at the time. I... owe him a debt for his assistance, otherwise I might still be a prisoner there. I am sorry to hear that you have a negative opinion of him."

"Huon's relationship with the Family is ... complicated," Vere smiles again, but with no joy in it. "He had a difficult time with King Oberon, and was exiled and imprisoned for a very long time. He made deals with enemies of the Family for what he thought were good reasons, and is currently working off his debt to the Family. The King is more forgiving than some of the younger Family members, who feel we have good reason not to forgive him yet, for death and destruction left in his wake." He sighs. "But I am told that immortality means that grudges eventually fade. Time will tell."

Vere glances around. "What would you like to see of Paris? It is a city of many contrasts."

"I would like to get to know the heart and soul of Paris. The center…whatever is the most important part of it. The thing that would allow me to recreate her in a Trump, that celebrates her identity the most."

Vere thinks a moment, then says, "Let us walk across the river to Notre Dame, the great Cathedral. Your father's memorial service was held there. Then we can walk through the streets of Paris, following the funeral procession his body took, to the mausoleum where his body rests, in Montmartre. That path will take us through much that can be described as the heart of Paris."

Misao smiles and nods. "After you, cousin. Will you tell me more of these contrasts?"

"I shall be delighted," Vere bows.

Vere waves a palace servant over and gives instructions that Alice be informed that he and Misao shall be walking to Notre Dame, and from there to Montmartre, should anyone seek them.

He then leads the way to the Pont des Arts, the pedestrian bridge spanning the river between the Louvre and the great Institut on the other side. He pauses halfway across the bridge and points out the Institut, "I have been told it is a place of great scholars," he says. "Although Corwin has said little of them the few times I have visited Paris, and I have not yet had a chance to investigate it. It is something I must do, eventually."

Misao nods. "A resource worth investigating."

Turning to the East he points out Notre Dame in the near distance. "Our immediate objective," he says. "Although there are many lovely cafes and shops along the side of the river as we approach it."

"One moment, cousin, if you please."

Assuming Vere complies, Misao stops outright to sketch the view. It is a quick, rough sketch, taking no more than a few minutes, just outlining the building. Vere can see that their sketching materials are contained in a small, light box, with hinged wooden flaps that can hold paper in place and clever holes to hold a flask of ink and a set of brushes, which Misao uses skillfully, not spilling a single drop. Once satisfied, they quickly blot the sketch and slip it behind, revealing a fresh sheet of paper, restopper the ink, and replace the brush.

Vere watches with interest, mentally comparing Misao's style with that of Lucas.

Misao's style is different to Lucas' work and clearly influenced by their homeland of Hikariguni. Since Vere worked with Venesch as Captain of the Guard during Vere's service on the Regency Council, he can see similarities in the materials Misao uses and the style of the brushwork plus any calligraphy that might appear on the sketches. Lucas' style has some commonalities with Misao's work, but his underlying style was Western and Francophile, to use Earth terms.

(In art history terms, Vere might guess that Lucas had the kind of influence from Japanese work that late 19th century art had from Japonisme. Van Gogh had a collection of Japanese woodblock prints and a lot of art nouveau poster work had some of that influence as well. Lucas's style was not exactly art nouveau or Van Gogh but his overall feel was definitely French and influenced by Impressionism and Art Nouveau without falling completely into either, while predating 20th century concepts like Cubism and Dada.)

"Thank you," and Misao is smile has brightened considerably. "This feels... right. Familiar, somehow. But please go on.

Vere leads the way across the bridge and turns to the left, walking along the Quai de Conti, with the river to their immediate left and the Hôtel des Monnaies to their right. "Seeing you draw leads me to a possibly impertinent request, if I may," Vere says as they walk. "I was hoping that Cousin Brita might be able to create a Trump of myself, but we did not end up travelling on the same missions. I have a Trump of my beloved Robin, but she does not yet have one of me, and I would dearly love to be able to give her one, so that we may reach out one to the other in times of need."

"I would be happy to help you, if you want. It has been strongly impressed on me," Misao pauses for a moment to look clearly at Vere, "that I am not supposed to make a Trump of someone without permission."

Vere nods. "Have you heard the story of Martin and Brand?" They continue walking along the Quai de Conti, the Île de la Citá and its grand buildings now on their left side.

Misao shakes their head, pausing again to sketch another view of Notre Dame.

"No, I don't think I've heard of that, yet. I did hear of how my father died and how it is suspected that it as because he was making Trumps without permission."

"Trumps can be used to attack the subject," Vere explains as they start across the Pont au Double towards the Cathedral of Notre Dame. "Either in a psychic assault, or via more crudely physical means. Drawing a Trump of someone without their knowledge could thus be seen as preparing a possible weapon for use against them. Some members of our Family take this very seriously indeed."

And then they step off the bridge onto the Ile de la Cite, and the great cathedral stands before them.

"Sugoi...." breathes Misao as the full effect of the cathedral hits them, for the moment drowning out Vere's words. They immediately start a third sketch, this time more detailed.

Vere smiles and remains silent as Misao works on their sketch. He watches the Parisians as they go about their business in front of the cathedral.

Misao works with intense concentration. When they are satisfied, they turn to Vere.

"I had no idea that Trumps could be used as a weapon. I can see why unauthorized Trump creation would be frowned upon."

Misao's surface emotion is serious but Vere can probably tell that they are also very excited about the building.

"Can we go inside?"

"Most certainly," Vere answers with a smile. They walk through the great doors, and the magnificent interior looms before them.

If any officials of the cathedral recognize the king's nephew and seek to approach, Vere waves them away.

"Oh. My."

Misao's gaze is reverent as they take in the light spilling through the rose windows like living jewels. They carefully place their sketch box on the floor, out of the way, and then glide along the floor until they stand in the center of the light. Once in the center, they stop, and kneel gracefully, removing the fan from their obi and placing it in front of them. They bow deeply while kneeling, and then begin to dance. Their movements are precise, restrained, and yet express a deep joy that Misao feels in the beauty of this place, of the light and the color. The dance is short, and at the end they kneel and repeat the movements they started with.

Vere watches with pleasure, the artist in him noting both the skill and artistry with which Misao moves and analyzing the techniques demonstrated by their dance.

Misao returns to her companion.

"Thank you for your indulgence, cousin. I fear that I am trespassing on your kindness, but this place..."

They pick up their sketch box and look around some more.

"It is amazing."

"I was pleased to be allowed to witness your art," Vere replies seriously. "It was moving, and appropriate, in my opinion."

He smiles, and gestures towards the deeper interior. "Shall we tour it?"

Misao smiles. "We shall, cousin."

Vere waves a minor functionary of Notre Dame over and has them conduct a tour of the chapel.

After a tour through the cathedral Vere leads Misao out of Notre Dame once again, and across the Pont Notre-Dame and north-west through the city. The walk takes a little over an hour, through scenic streets of shops, cafes, gardens and fountains. The city bustles with activity, Parisians going about their daily business with an air of mixed industry and elegance.

They walk up the hilly streets of Montmartre, through the artistic restaurants and cafes catering to the creative types who flock there for the low rents and bohemian atmosphere. Music drifts from open windows as they walk past, posters on the walls of the Chat Noir and Moulin Rouge announce the evening's entertainments, and their progress is followed with interest by the Parisians sitting at the tables outside the cafes as they pass.

Finally they reach the Montmartre Cemetery. Vere leads the way through the cobblestone alleys among the maples, chestnuts, linden and cedars past hundreds of monuments, vaults and chapels to the mausoleum that holds Lucas' remains.

As they approach the mausoleum Vere bows his head and murmurs, "Lucas." It sounds more a greeting than anything else.

"I'm trying to sleep, Cousin. Has no one translated 'requiescat in pace' to Thari for you? So gauche, calling upon the dead while the sun is up."

Misao hears nothing.

Vere lifts his head and smiles very slightly. In a louder voice he says, "Misao, this is where your father, Lucas St. Cyr, lies at rest."

Misao set their sketch box down, advances towards the mausoleum, kneels gracefully, and bows gracefully, touching their head to the ground. Rising to a kneeling position, they chant:

"While the Spirits of Heaven and the Spirits of Earth listen, the sins of the world of Hikariguni will be purified and cleansed by the fire that can clear the earth of trees and bushes by consuming them. Thus the sins of the world will be burned to ash."

(If Lucas's ghost can hear Misao, they will recognize these words as part of the Hikariguni purification ritual that is part of the funeral ceremonies.)

The same voice speaks again to Vere. "This place is boring. Show her the fountain, cousin. I do wish Brita had made my statue more... turgid, but I do like when people look up at my golden ass."

"Misao," Vere says, his voice more formal than previously. "The spirit of your father considers this mausoleum artistically unworthy, and requests that we return to the Louvre so that I may show you the memorial fountain that our cousin Brita designed for him."

Misao nods and returns to their feet, picking up their sketch box. As they turn their head, Vere can see a wistful sadness in Misao’s expression, before their face returns to its usual serenity.

"Burita-san told me of the fountain she made. I would like to see that."

"It is a fitting memorial for Lucas, and his spirit was pleased by it." Vere will lead the way south, through stately buildings and bustling streets, past the massive opera house, and finally back to the Louvre. As they walk he discusses the buildings they pass, and the intriguing paradox that although King Corwin only recently created Paris it has an ancient history, and numerous implications of such paradoxes.

And finally, they reach the memorial fountain, where Vere says quietly, "Cousin Lucas, are you here?"

Misao repeats their obeisance.

The ghostly voice sighs. "Of course not, I’m at my tomb. I directed you here so I could sleep."

The fountain spurts a small amount of extra water, splashing the two bystanders.

Vere smiles very slightly. "Misao, your father's spirit is present here, and can hear whatever you might wish to say to him."

Misao rises and then bows deeply.

"Otoosan, it is Misao. I have found your family. I do not know if this is what you wished, but it is what is. Shigata ga nai, ne?"

They take a breath.

"Now that I am here, I plan to claim my heritage. I intend to support Soracu-dono, and my siblings, as a good older sibling should. As you and my mother taught me to shoulder my duties, so do I shoulder this one.

"I hope to discover more about your death and take the appropriate measures into response to it.

"I hope that my intentions please you. If you have any wisdom to impart to me, I will humbly accept them."

A deep breath.

"Finally, I miss you. I wish you were here with me to help me in this new world that I have entered. I hope to make you proud of me."

Misao's voice wavers a bit on this last, but they pull it together, then bow once more and stand silent, waiting for any response.

The day moves from cool to cold. Perhaps a front is blowing in or it might be the influence of the ghost. The sunlight plays brightly on the surface of the water in the fountain but it is not warming. It's a few degrees above freezing, and the wind bites.

The ghost does not respond. He's not visible, which is also somewhat new to Vere.

Vere steps closer to the memorial fountain. "Have you any words for Misao, Cousin Lucas?"

Misao waits patiently.

The soft sighing of the breeze across the cold water in the fountain sounds again, still speaking in Lucas' tones.

"Words? No, none come to mind. Since I don't have one anymore that's fitting I suppose. You've talked to a lot of ghosts, Coz. But it seems like you haven't learned much about them. Us. Let me tell you a secret of the ghostly plane. We can't hear people, and often can't see them more than a vague figure.

"When I first realized I was dead, I thought about what an advantage to spying it would be. But I can't read, I can't see clearly, I can't hear anything, and I can barely make out landmarks. If you wonder why it's easy for you to find ghosts, think on the novelty of speaking with the living for a ghost. So much better than listing to the ones who slipped down the stairs or were wrongfully beheaded or whatever other grievance they have about their death.

"I hardly get any pleasure from sneaking into seraglios when the women there are mostly people shaped blobs of light."

Vere is unaware of any seraglios in Paris, except perhaps in Operas.

"Ah," Vere says. He is looking at the fountain, not at Misao. "This comes from having kept my abilities to myself. I normally speak with the dead when it is only them and myself." He does not bother saying that in his experience every spirit is different, and that Lucas' experience of being a ghost is not necessarily universal. Arguing with Lucas was never a profitable exercise.

Vere turns and looks at Misao. "It seems that Lucas can only hear me, not you, after all. I do not wish to intrude in personal matters, but would you like me to convey what you have said to your father?"

Misao nods. "I would take it as a kindness."

Lucas speaks to Vere again. He doesn’t seem to be continuing the conversation, but starting again. "Do you know what I regret most about being dead, Cousin? That I didn’t sleep with more of my cousins. So many challenges. Have you ever wondered what number you were on my list?" He pauses. "I find having regrets makes death at least somewhat tolerable. Most ghosts are so predictable."

Vere can tell, even with the variety of spirits he’s addressed, when a ghost is starting to lose the tenuous connection they have to the present. There may not be much time.

Vere nods to himself, recognizing that Lucas is starting to fade. He speaks clearly, focussing on calling Lucas' attention back to the here and now.

"Lucas, my friend, let me tell you what has happened. It came to the Family's attention that the Klebesians were abducting lost and hidden children of the Blood, and we raided one of their strongholds. We rescued three, amongst them your child, Misao. Misao is here now, and would speak with you."

Vere's words take on a ritual rhythm. "These are the words of Misao to Lucas, precisely as spoken by Misao."

The next part is recited in Misao's exact tone and cadence. It is not mimicry, Vere is not reproducing Misao's voice, but the feel of the words is identical to the way Misao had spoken them.

"Otoosan, it is Misao. I have found your family. I do not know if this is what you wished, but it is what is. Shigata ga nai, ne?

"Now that I am here, I plan to claim my heritage. I intend to support Soracu-dono, and my siblings, as a good older sibling should. As you and my mother taught me to shoulder my duties, so do I shoulder this one.

"I hope to discover more about your death and take the appropriate measures into response to it.

"I hope that my intentions please you. If you have any wisdom to impart to me, I will humbly accept them.

"Finally, I miss you. I wish you were here with me to help me in this new world that I have entered. I hope to make you proud of me."

There is a pause, then in his normal voice Vere asks, "Have you words for Misao, Lucas?"

Lucas' laugh is ripples across the fountain's never-calm surface. "Is that who is here with you? I am not surprised she made her way to you. They, I think they call themselves. Would you have me play Polonius to their Laertes? Yet he gave his advice before he was stabbed, and it didn't help. Nor will I be my own mother, who was always quick with unhelpful petty criticism. Their own mother's advice will be about rigid adhesion to rules, which is hilarious in someone who I accidentally impregnated while we were both drunk. Don't tell them that, I prefer to leave you the keeper of that uncomfortable secret.

"Tell them that their father wants them to be their own person and while it is important to know the rules of a place, it is equally important to choose to flout the ones that do not suit you."

Lucas sighs. "There you have it. Me in a nutshell. May your post-mortem advice to your eventual children be as banal."

Vere smiles. "You could never be banal, my friend, try as hard as you might. I shall give them your advice."

He turns to Misao. "Your father welcomes you, and says he is not surprised you have made your way here. He bids you to be your own person and follow your own path. He tells you that while it is important to know and understand the rules of any place you may go, it is equally important to..." Vere hesitates for a moment over the exact phrasing of the next bit, then chooses to follow Lucas' exact wording. "He says, 'it is equally important to choose to flout the ones that do not suit you.' His connection to this world is fading, and if you have any last words for his spirit I think this is your final chance to speak them."

Misao bows deeply from the waist. "I humbly thank you, my father, and I will consider your words of wisdom."

"These are the words of Misao to the shade of their father, Lucas." Vere perfectly mimics Misao's bow and cadence of speech as he delivers their message, then slips back into his own tone to add gently, "Sleep in peace, my friend."

There is a long silence and Vere can feel that Lucas has departed.

Misao turns to Vere. "Thank you, cousin. I think... I think that it is time for me to move on, now."

Misao could be talking about the tour of Paris, or their relationship with Lucas, or both.

Vere bows to Misao. "It was a pleasure to spend time with you, cousin. May all of your troubles be light and your joys great, may your path be clear and your rest easy, and may the plots of your foes be confounded and come to naught."

Misao returns the bow. "And with you. Be well until we meet again."