Isekai, Go Home! An Anti-Isekai, Isekai Fantasy Inquisition Quest

CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, INVESTIGATION I
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigation I

    [x] Plan Iron Lady
    -[x] Write-in
    –[x]But leaving a potential isekai in possession of an innocent (at least compared to an Isekai) that is in line for the throne for the sake of political convenience while another stands outside under the guise of an ambassador trying to get in here while abusing his powers and the local citizenry is cowardly, foolish, morally repugnant, a dereliction of duty, and an incredible security risk.
    -[x] Write-in
    –[x] Interview Circe, her closest friends, her head servant and retainer (and if any have been replaced recently, them too).
    –[x] Have someone look into the headmaster. While he could just be trying to avoid a scandal, he could also be compromised.



    ~~~​


    You shook your head. “But leaving an Isekai to possess the Second Princess would be even more of a risk to the nation. The risks of not doing anything at all… someone so close to possible succession? We can’t just stand idly by to let that happen. And don't you remember that Isekai Ambassador hanging around the Academy gates – could that really be a coincidence?”

    You remembered Averink’s own words, when you first met him to discuss his research. “Could you imagine what would happen if the Isekai were allowed to subvert our government? Our education?” he’d asked you. You, word for word, spoke these words back to him.

    “A very wise scholar asked you that question when you took his case,” Averink said. “But this is different! This is the Princess! And I do happen to like keeping my head attached to my neck!”

    “We are investigating Duchesses and Countesses,” you argued. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing your research was meant to prevent?”

    Averink closed his eyes in thought. “You're right, of course. I just never expected this to happen during a simple research outing – but you have your duty, and I’ll assist and protect you however I can.” You could hear him think: “Even though I can’t possibly see this ending well for either of us.”

    You turned back to your meal. “Then I will continue with my investigation as planned – interviewing the students whose Appraisals showed suspicious characteristics, as well as the friends and servants of Lady Justitia and Princess Circe.”

    “Oh, and about the research,” you said.

    “The research, right. Against everything else we’ve learned… ” Averink replied.

    “Was this of any use to you? I can give you the notes on the individual interviews after they are done, if that will help any further.”

    “I had developed a rough profile of my theoretical possession target, which I used to select the students to be Appraised,” Averink said, handing you a few pages of hastily scribbled notes. “Each of those young ladies exhibited one or more of those characteristics. I will of course make my research notes and my correspondence with Viponde available to you. Oh, and yes, the interviews should help.”

    Averink paused.

    “I was under the impression we would be preparing for possessions after the storm, not before. At the very least, if what we suspect is true... the Second Princess may be a shining example of my own theory of the Fujo Isekai and its intended victims.”

    “You think that future victims could be built around Princess Circe’s Appraisal?” You remembered the different things you had noticed in her previous Appraisal. Fire affinity, bullying, seduction. You mentioned as much.

    “We can only speculate now, but yes. If you find other girls with similar Appraisal skills and attributes, make sure they are listed in the at-risk category for future possession… hell, they may even be possessed already.”

    You nodded.

    “Is there anything else you need, or shall I return to my research?”

    You looked at the notes, considering your answer. “I will need your assistance in one last thing, Mr Averink.”

    “Yes?” Averink swallowed the last of the coffee, his expression that of a man facing the gallows.

    “Can you look into the Academy’s Headmaster?”


    ~~~​


    You walked to the Academy’s courtyard, to collect your thoughts – and the students needed for further questioning. The school hadn’t changed at all since you left – not that you’d exactly expected it to, after all. By now, the students would have finished the last of the day’s classes, free to mingle, read, and practice their skills before the night’s curfew.

    You passed empty classrooms, ones you remembered attending. Magical Theory, Healing, Theology… You reminded yourself that you should probably speak with Father Cosmo, your former Exorcism teacher before you leave the Academy. He was a reclusive old man, and probably would be of little use in the investigation itself, but you were pretty sure you had levelled up since the Pied Piper Case, and he could help you further develop some of your abilities.

    You entered the library, a vast room filled with tables, couches, and ladders that led up to great wooden bookcases two stories high. Books both small and absurdly large were stacked on tables or podiums, some even levitating behind mana barriers to prevent tampering or damage by clumsy – or overly curious – students. Mechtelt had, of course, still found a way to get through these fields so that she could read restricted grimoires and books on curses.

    The students here read in silent solitude, taking down notes, or whispered very softly in huddled groups by tables or alcoves. It was, as you remembered from your student days, where you could run into many of the commoner students. Although students wore their white school uniforms to class, they could wear their own choice of clothing afterwards, and the commoners were often recognisable by their clerical robes, representing the fact that their allegiance was to the Church, whose patronage was why they could attend this school. Just like yourself, without pedigrees or connections to protect them, they had to instead rely on putting their all into academic success.

    Of course, this was not to say there were only commoner students here, or that the noble students did not put any effort into their studies. You could see Rosemarijn in one of the alcoves reading, sitting next to another noble lady that you recognized. She had a tall wrap of flaxen hair surrounded with large ringlets in the Astemmian style, and was wearing a black corset with a fur-collared pink coat covering a typical aristocrat’s figure. This was Lady Linneke van Riehter. Not only was she one of tomorrow’s appraisees, but she was also a member of the school’s Council of Prefects, and now its head. She waved to you politely and smiled, which you returned.

    When you first arrived at the Academy of Light, she had been dismissive towards you, however unlike most of the other nobles, she had eventually come around. You had never joined the Prefects, of course. This was not a Yankeevine school such as the University of Aafensenn, with its Student Councils who were either elected by the other students or selected by test scores. Prefects were appointed by the Board of Governors and had to possess pedigrees, of which obviously you lacked. Still, Linneke was a very capable student, and was an even better leader, so she probably deserved it.

    If you remember correctly, her scores were… second of all the third years? In your own year Princess Circe was first, almost certainly through less than respectable means, second was yourself, third was Mechtelt, and fourth was a fellow commoner, a girl you vaguely remembered was named Annelies Rolthiof, who had since graduated.

    You curtsied to the two young ladies. “It is very well to see you, Lady de Lievens and Lady van Riehter.”

    Linneke nodded. “And to you, Lady Inquisitor Visser.”

    “I must request the presence of Lady de Lievens for a private interview concerning her Appraisal, later tonight,” you said. You informed her of the time and place, and that Averink would send for her.

    Rosemarijn’s face paled, and her aura suddenly shifted into a soft brown of anxiety. Nevertheless, she nodded. “I will, of course, fully cooperate with the Inquisition.”

    You smiled, in an attempt to reassure her. Everyone in this Academy had their secrets, few of which were relevant to your investigation. “Thank you.”

    “If there is any way I or the Prefects can assist you, please do not hesitate to call upon me,” Linneke added.

    “Of course.” You curtsied again, and began walking out of the library.

    Somewhere near the Magical Theory section, you heard soft footsteps following you. You turned around to see a young girl dressed in a nun’s habit. She was very young, and petite, the top of her head barely reaching your shoulder. Strangely, she was blindfolded – a strip of black silk, embroidered with runes and holy symbols, had been wrapped around her head, covering her eyes.

    “May I help you?” you asked.

    “A message.” She slid the blindfold off, and her eyes glowed white. The noise of distant voices faded. The wind rattled the closed windows of the hallway. Time seemed to slow. Her voice echoed.

    “The third door you seek. It is hidden to you, and guarded, guarded by terrible shadows. If you move too hastily without the keys to the third door… the two doors lead only to the deepest abyss. Your hands will be stained in blood.”

    You stood in silence, taking in the strange occurrence. You stopped your mana build-up, realising that this was not some sort of Isekai surprise attack. You knew that the Church chose commoners who were unusually talented, or had special and valuable gifts, to send to the Academy. After all, you yourself were one of these. Once in a very great while, the Gods blessed – or cursed – a person with knowledge otherwise hidden, or forbidden. Most of the time, such people joined the Church as Appraisers, Holy Oracles, Seers… or Inquisitors. Being the subject of such a… abrupt prophecy, if this was indeed a prophecy…

    “You will only find the peace you seek if you find the key.”

    You nodded.

    The girl slipped her blindfold back over her eyes. “You understand, then?”

    [ ] Yes.
    [ ] No.
    [ ] … Maybe?
    [ ] Say nothing.
    [ ] Write-in

    The girl, oblivious to the world, walked past you until she disappeared around a corner, her unseeing eyes guided by forces beyond you.

    You would think more on this later. For now, you had students to interview. If – if you were getting prophecies, you must be doing something important, perhaps more evidence on the matter of the Princess, or even something of which you could hardly imagine yet.

    Your steps took you out of the library and back to the courtyard, towards the Pit and sparring grounds. You had the feeling that Justitia van Fors would probably not be in the library to study from dusty old books on theory.

    At the sparring grounds near the Pit, you could see a small crowd of students gathered. You could feel a buzz of anticipation, of excitement in their auras. Curious, you pushed your way through them until you saw a face you recognized.

    “Yasmijn? What’s happening here?”

    Yasmijn pointed. The crowd, you realised, had formed a rough circle around Lady Justitia and another girl, both dressed in white, close-fitting duelling outfits. You did not recognise this other girl, who stood out even among the eccentric personalities of the Academy. She was olive-skinned, her black hair arranged into a neat braid, and matched the descriptions you’d read of those of the Megasthenes Raj – the hot, sunny coasts far to the south, on the opposite side of the Autumn Sea.

    They bowed to each other, then dropped into a combat stance – legs slightly bent, leaning forward slightly, hands at eye level. They leapt forward, grappling with each other. They moved almost more swiftly than your eyes could follow, trading kicks and strikes.

    “They’re quite evenly matched,” Yasmijn said. Justitia seemed to be more forceful, striking with her hands and elbows; her opponent was more nimble, preferring to kick and dodge.

    Justitia sidestepped a high kick, and with the other girl off balance, moved to grasp her under the arm, flipping her over and onto her back – exactly as Alizea and Theodore had described earlier, you realised.

    Justitia extended her hand, helping the Megasthene girl to her feet. They shook hands.

    “Looks like the student has become the master!” Justitia said.

    “Hmph. I allowed that to happen,” the other girl said. They became aware of your presence, and gave you a slight bow.

    “Lady Inquisitor,” Justitia said. “I introduce to you Lady Heleneia Shah-Jahan, from the Metropol of Raj Makedovia.”

    You remembered that name – she too was on your list of tomorrow’s appraisals. You curtsied. “It is very well to meet you, Lady Shah-Jahan.” You turned back to Justitia. “Lady van Fors, I must request your presence later tonight for a private interview concerning your Appraisal.” You again informed her of the time and place. Averink would send for her, you said, and explain what to expect.

    “Of course,” Justitia said. “I have nothing to hide.” Her aura and thoughts betrayed nothing, just as it was when she was Appraised.

    “I’m sure you don’t,” you said. “I hope I have not interrupted your…sparring.”

    “It was no inconvenience,” Heleneia said. “Perhaps you or your associates from the Inquisition might like a lesson in pankratia yourselves? It is a noble art of combat, and our greatest Brahmins and philosophers are trained in it.”

    So that was where Justitia had learned how to throw men around, you thought. “Perhaps after my duties here have been fulfilled,” you said, smiling politely. You highly doubted you would ever have to face an Isekai in a grappling match.

    “After these Appraisals, we shall have a rematch,” Heleneia told Justitia.

    “You clearly just want to be thrown again,” Justitia said.

    With the day’s “entertainment” finished, the crowd dispersed, walking their separate ways. You and Yasmijn wandered the campus, looking for Azaze och Behelial or Princess Circe.


    ~~~​


    “Do you really think you can get away with this!?”

    Hearing that, you knew you’d found who you were looking for. You knew the voice belonged to Azaze och Behelial, and it was tinged with anger. You found her in a shaded corner outside the Academy, near the kitchens.

    Also in the shaded corner…was the quite recognizable demonic-glamoured figure of Theodore, standing over even the actual demon.

    “Yes…? Tell me, what do you think I am getting away with?” he said, his voice returning to the false baritone. There was a group of spying girls nearby, hidden except to your aura-seeing eyes, that sniggered and whispered with delight upon hearing his voice.

    “You – you stupid…” Azaze hissed at Theodore. “Do you think I am the only one here who reports back to the Empire? You are a dead man! Or worse!”

    “I do not care.”

    “What Elayet are you even from? What faction?”

    “I am just here for a job. I fled the Empire so I didn’t have to answer to people like you,” Theodore said, putting on a stoic disregard. “I like keeping my bits too.” If he was in his normal persona, he would undoubtedly be laughing now, but this was no laughing matter.

    “Oh? And that’s why you left? Put your bits in someone you shouldn’t?”

    “Why I left is none of your business,” Theodore said. “And unfortunately for you, I am under the Inquisition’s protection – bits and all.”

    The hiding girls seemed to like him even more for this. You could hear Azaze still whispering in Sarutish under her breath, causing you to flinch even from this distance.

    Well, you figured you should stop eavesdropping and step in now, to save your agent from having to keep making up more backstory for himself. The more he talked, the more chance Azaze had to trip him up. You walked into the open.

    “Oh, there you are! And Miss Behelial too, good, very good,” you announced with excessive volume and exaggerated unawareness to their previous conversation. “Lady och Behelial, I was just looking for you!” You gave her an exaggerated curtsy. “I must request your presence later tonight concerning your Appraisal. I remind you, this is entirely routine, and something your family agreed to as a condition of enrollment in the Academy.” You provided her the time and place for her interview, and added that Averink would explain the process in further detail.

    Azaze glared at the two of you. Finally, she growled: “Fine! As long as that deviant of yours won’t be there!”

    She stomped away, curls of smoke blowing from her nostrils as she huffed.

    The other girls walked away giggling – except for one, a delicate-looking girl with long waves of golden hair and large blue eyes. She seemed very sad, and paused to sympathetically pat Theodore on the arm before re-joining the group.

    “I don’t think she bought it,” Theodore said once the three of you were alone.

    “I thought you were a Bard and an actor,” Yasmijn teased. “You couldn’t come up with a better story?”

    “I didn’t expect there to be a demon student!”

    “I’m sure nothing will come of it,” you said, before your agents could start their bickering again. “Let’s find Princess Circe. And any of her friends or retainers still here.”

    “Speaking of that, you’re not going to like this,” Theo said.

    “What?”

    “The Princess, or well, whoever she is now, they’ve apparently pre-empted our plans. I asked around, and all except one of the maids were sent away before the Appraisal inspection was even announced. I’d reckon it was a coincidence but… well, I highly doubt that.” Theo frowned. “You know, the Princess is being a lot more careful than a person who’s supposed to have a pretty damn low intelligence attribute, and whoever she is now isn’t much higher. Someone this dumb should’ve been caught by now. They shouldn’t be able to pre-empt and defend themselves like they have.”

    You stopped to look at him. “Are you suggesting that someone is helping her?”

    “Yeah. I know the saying that conspiracies tend to collapse the bigger they get and all that, but something veeeeeerrry fishy is going on here.”

    “I’ve asked Averink to look into the Headmaster. He may not know anything…or he may, and is simply trying to cover up any scandal. Or –”

    “Or he may himself be compromised,” Yasmijn finished.

    “What about the guards?” you asked.

    “Here, obviously since we just saw them… I wasn’t able to talk to them without drawing Circe’s attention, but I asked the students about them, and they say all of them are new.”

    “She didn’t have guards before, or these particular guards are new?”

    “She had a sworn knight before, but he’s gone and disappeared, according to the students. I have a sinking feeling that this is going to be a pattern here. Everyone of any use has already been removed, hence me thinking someone is helping this Princess Imposter. This was all planned.”

    “Well, that in itself is not all bad,” Yasmijn said, nodding slowly. “If they’ve gone and removed everyone who can talk… that just tells us that they’ve something to hide. People don’t just go and purge all of their former associates all at once for no reason.”

    “It's certainly a red flag,” you agreed. While you wanted to be optimistic about this, if Theodore was right about Circe purging her previous associates, it meant that gathering information here, while you still had jurisdiction, would be much tougher. Certainly, you needed more time than a two-day research outing and inspection.

    Before you could respond or think of another plan, you saw a girl running as fast as she could across the field, holding the skirts of her purple dress in one hand, and a book in the other. You and your agents stopped in your tracks, to avoid bumping into her. She squealed in malicious laughter, her rose-gold ringlets flying behind her.

    “Give that back! That’s personal!” you heard from a few feet off. You knew that voice – it was Lady Annelijn de Osveld, in hot pursuit of the girl who had apparently taken her book.

    Theodore snickered, and Yasmijn watched as calmly as ever. You, however, knew what it was like to have your personal things stolen by bullies and pranksters, so you whispered a mana spell, preparing to help.

    “Ignite!” However, before you could do anything more, Annelijn had hurled a ball of golden fire into the girl’s skirts. The girl gave a satisfying squeal as she stopped to put out the flames, dropping the book. You walked over to retrieve it, and handed it back to Annelijn.

    “Uh, thanks, Lady Inquisitor,” Annelijn said, giving you another clumsy curtsy before scurrying off.

    With a sigh, you recognized the thief. She was Lady Marijke de Vandewiele, whom you recalled as one of Princess Circe’s cronies. A mean and vicious girl, though not very bright and very much the second string to the Princess and Nacissa. She was on your list of appraisees tomorrow, and she would certainly have to be interviewed regardless.

    “Why didn’t you stop her?!” Marijke snarled, holding up her skirt, now decorated with a smoking burn hole and singed at the edges. “Look at my dress!”

    “You shouldn’t take other people's things, then,” Yasmijn said.

    “Perhaps you could tell us where we could find Her Highness?” you asked. “I know you were friends.”

    Were. She prefers gardening and flowers now. She ditched us after Nacissa graduated.” Marijke then turned away from you, ignoring the fact that you were an Inquisitor, and marched off. “I can’t believe she did that! My dress! I swear, she’s done for! I will have her sent to Saint Clortho’s for this one!”


    ~~~​


    “Not only has she got rid of her servants and guards, she seems to be avoiding her old friends as well,” you said. “This rabbit hole goes deeper than I thought.” Everything you discovered seemed to damn the Princess more and more.

    Just as Marijke had suggested, you eventually found the Princess by the gardens. She stood beside a crouching Aoileann de-weeding flowers. She actually seemed happy to do this messy work, humming a happy tune and her aura a soft gold. In all the ages, you never thought you would see Circe de Meer, the Second Princess of Astem and future Consort of the Demonic Empire, tugging vigorously at a ragweed.

    You and your agents bowed. “Your Highness, I must request your presence later tonight for a personal interview concerning your Appraisal,” you said, giving her the time and place. “I assure you this is entirely routine.”

    With one more tug, the roots of the weed finally loosened from the earth. Circe stopped to catch her breath, holding up the ragweed, obviously quite proud of herself.

    Aoileann curtsied to you before walking off. “I’ll leave you to it then, Lady Inquisitor.”

    “It didn’t take you long to come find me, huh?” the Princess asked you. “You know, I was always scared you would seek revenge for what we… I did to you. I didn’t think you would do it like this, though,” she said, frowning as she looked at the flowerbed.

    “It is just routine, you have nothing to fear. It will actually help me a lot.”

    The Princess paused, and in the blink of an eye, she smiled brightly towards you. A smile with warmth and heart behind it, a genuine smile. Something truly alien on her face.

    “Oh, well then, of course I’ll come help!” she said, with a smile radiating compassion. True compassion, not sickly sweet or false.

    “Thank you, Your Highness!”

    “Ohohohoho,” she laughed… gently. A soft echo of what you remembered. This could not possibly be her, you thought. Your head spun.

    “Good job,” you heard Aoileann say, arriving with a wheelbarrow filled with dirt just as you turned to leave. “Now we’ll spread the compost right onto the flowerbeds. Grab that shovel, will you?”


    B-ivRdWY1BF4iN0kzyYa8o39OYgSsTsRqDeM-mKz2IW7i41l3XrVj2RN8AByN8MWfQAnqoWpyFutE7h_iDYi2Wfj4UA_ctI3QEdzqHw8iYsPhWmoZLF6PbKsuK7FY8wY9RXpmZRdDEg



    ~~~​


    “Jesus,” Theodore finally said. “I see what you mean.”

    “I take it she wasn’t like that when you knew her,” Yasmijn said.

    “Not at all,” you replied. “We have to find the Princess’ friends, anyone still in this school who was close to her. We must also brief Alizea on what has happened.” You let out a heavy sigh, knowing what came next. “Yasmijn, can you please go and inform Marijke, the girl with the burned dress from earlier, that we will need to speak with her. Theodore and I… will go and tell Stefan.”

    Yasmijn nodded, and walked away to chase after Marijke.

    There were others, of course. The singular maid you could bring in. The guards, even if they were new, perhaps could help. Old friends of Circe like Marijke.

    It took some time wandering the many halls, corridors, stairways and alcoves of the Academy before you found any sign of Stefan. While wandering in one of the more quiet areas around the walls of the Academy, you noticed Theodore had stopped, and had pulled out a strange object from his pocket. It was a flat rectangle, made of a glossy pink material that reflected the light from the sun. He poked at it, and it emitted bright white light.

    “This is the… Isekai Black Box, right?” you asked.

    “Yeah,” he said, absentmindedly looking at the light on the box. Numbered circles had appeared on the magical box. “1, 2, 3,” on the first row, down to a solitary “0” at the bottom. He frowned at the numbers. You understood that, from the numbered pattern and his evident frustration, it was a lock of some sort, the circles like tumblers waiting for a key.

    A key that Theodore clearly did not possess. He waited for some time, looking at the screen, for something you did not understand. You had heard of these mystical Isekai objects from your Inquisition training, but had never actually seen one until now.

    “Never mind. It didn’t pick up anything,” he said, placing it back into his pocket. “The smart– I mean, Black Box. I don’t know the code numbers to unlock it, but even on the locking part, sometimes a square called a notification appears for something called “Friendar.”

    “And Friendar…?”

    “It finds people nearby that have Black Boxes. I was thinking maybe the Princess had one. If she had it unlocked, then maybe that was why she knew what to do. Tough luck with that idea, though…” he said.

    “Where did you even find a Black Box?” you asked, an eyebrow raised.

    “Stole it from its previous owner obviously, right before I fled Yankeevine. I hope you don’t think I decorate all my possessions in pink.”

    You nodded. It was a good try anyway.

    “We still need to find Stefan,” you said. Theodore nodded, and you continued on.

    That search would eventually lead you to a crowd of students gathering in an open-air amphitheatre. Unlike the Pit, this was a more official space for lectures and ritual events, or demonstrations. You would have thought it odd that the Academy of Light would have a demonstration this late, with classes supposed to be finished, until you noticed a few things.

    First was thankfully Stefan, which you picked out by his aura and lewd thoughts without even needing to see him in the crowd. At least you knew where he was. He was currently acquainting himself with yet another well-endowed student, of course. If Stefan were the cause of this crowd, this could be over quickly; unfortunately, he was not.

    Secondly, Alizea was also here, and immediately approached you, quickly informing you that she had noticed both Stefan and a large number of students all converging here from other parts of the school, but that she did not know why.

    Next, you saw there were large cages in the amphitheatre, and those cages had… very large monsters inside of them. Some were scaled, others with fur. They had tusks and horns and all manner of gruesome things. They were war beasts procured by the Demonic Empire and used by the Army of Astem, knights and…

    …Templars.





    “OHOHOHOHO!!!” The amphitheatre echoed with an obnoxiously loud and all-too-familiar laugh.

    For there, standing beside a dismounted and opened suit of Siege Armour and a submissively sitting war beast, was an all-too-familiar face.


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    Nacissa van Luttefmont-Furholjan​


    “Ladies and gentlemen!” she announced with a theatrical flourish. “I, Corporal Nacissa van Luttemont-Furholjan, have been called here to familiarise those of you contemplating Holy Service for the Church with the arms and operations of the Knights Templar! You may now applaud.”

    The audience dutifully clapped. You struggled to grasp why she was even here.

    Nacissa was never the sort of person to do anything in a quiet or modest fashion. It had seemed to you, back when you had attended the Academy, that everything she did was a calculated choice made to garner the maximum amount of attention to herself, even if it meant challenging Princess Circe for the spot in the centre. To your eyes, she hadn’t changed a bit since leaving school. Her golden hair was arranged in the typical Astemmian grand ringlets, and she wore a close-fitting blue and white duelling outfit highlighting an outrageous figure akin to Circe’s, but where Circe was soft from shortcakes and avoiding anything like effort, Nacissa was robust from riding, duelling, and marching. It was something you could never deny her – she really did put in the effort she boasted of and then some. She looked over the crowd, and for a moment she looked straight at you.

    “The Order of the Knights Templar is, of course, the first and last line of defence between you and the Isekai threat! While the agents of the Holy Inquisition shuffle paperwork inside their cushy offices, only emerging to throw a mana bolt or two once we've properly beaten the stuffing out of them, we take the fight to their own lairs!”

    You could hear a few snickers from the students, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

    “And the most effective of the weapons we bring to bear against the Isekai is the Siege Armour suit!” She gestured to it, a towering contraption of steel and bronze, cogs, and bolts. A great steel barrel was hoisted behind its shoulder, this being a Mana Battery, originally invented in the Yankeevine Empire, which supplied the wearer with magical energy and allowed them to move its great bulk more smoothly and swiftly than would otherwise be possible. A monstrous fusion of a lance and smoothbore cannon was attached to its right arm that fired enchanted cannonballs larger than a human head, some of which lay at Nacissa’s feet. You could see Nacissa’s butler, a demihuman with copper-coloured cat ears and tail, dutifully polishing it until the metal plates shone as brightly as a jewel.

    “Of course, such protection does come at the price of adding bulk and weight, so when needs be, we are carried into battle by our war beasts, generously supplied to us by our allies in the Demonic Empire,” Nacissa said, stroking the head of her mount. It looked like a bull with great golden horns and hooves, but it was larger than two carriages, and had a great pair of feathered wings. The Bull of Heaven, they called it in the Empire, sacred to Ishtar.

    “I call this big fellow Fluffles. He’s saved my life on the field more times than I can count!” He snorted and licked her hand in response.

    You were quite sure you did not select Nacissa for this case. She should not even be here. How was she even able to get through the gates, let alone set up this kind of demonstration during an Inquisitorial Appraisal? Your thoughts ran through these questions repeatedly, utterly befuddled by this turn of events.

    “Now now, you will all get a turn with the armour, however I do have a little errand to run first!” The sweet cheer in her words hid the malicious glee that had built up within her upon seeing you. “If you all would just line up over there, you can take turns petting Sir Fluffles! Oh, and my faithful butler Igor, can you be a dear and tell these students all about him?”

    At least Nacissa was acting how she was supposed to be acting, unlike the Princess.

    “Your will is my command, Madame,” Igor said, bowing deeply.

    Igor, as you remember him, was Lady Luttefmont-Furholjans’s perfect butler. Dressed in a black tailcoat, matching trousers, and a bowtie. The other girls looked on in envy as the pretty catboy slavishly did as instructed. He was perfect to all except you. You could see that his eyes were focusing on his mistress’ chest and behind, as usual, and the aura of bright pink around him.

    Igor was certainly loyal to his mistress, but for reasons other than professional. If nothing else, your empathic power to see auras allowed you to see through such guises. That said, at least he was acting professionally and wasn’t being mentally manipulated, as was the case with Stefan, who was walking towards you, the girl he was previously trying to seduce entirely forgotten as the Attractor kicked in.

    “Oh, what a surprise! If it isn’t little Visser and her squad of pencil pushers, ohoho.” Nacissa said upon approaching you. She let out a quick laugh, the back of her hand in front of her face. “I thought you didn’t need us?” she asked.

    “Why are you even here?” You ignored her attempts at baiting you.

    “Demonstrating Siege Armour operation for the next generation of Templars, clearly.”

    “Why are you here?” you repeated.

    “If peasants cannot even speak the language, how are we ever to teach them their letters?” she asked. “Teaching you a lesson,” she thought. Fortunately, while Nacissa was trained in anti-telepathy, she was too brash and arrogant to actually conceal her thoughts properly.

    “You came just to annoy me, then? Just because I didn’t pick you for this case?” you accused her. “It’s not like you needed the money, perhaps you should have just lowered your fee.”

    “This is why everyone hates you, Visser. You simply cannot keep your grubby little telepathy to yourself,” Nacissa retorted. “As for my fee – I just know my worth.”

    “I don’t hate her,” Stefan suddenly said, gazing misty-eyed at you. You decided not to encourage him.

    Nacissa looked at Stefan. She then looked at Theodore. “Really, Visser? Another one? My, you’ve managed to acquire quite the reverse harem.” She looked at Theodore again. The peasant has got herself a demon boytoy this time, if he’s as big as he looks… by the Gods, she really is trying to get herself killed by the Princess. Naughty, naughty little Visser, still stealing all of Circe’s toys, even after graduation…

    You resisted the urge to say some very unprofessional things. “Since you are here, perhaps the Lady Corporal Luttefmont-Furholjan would like to grace this humble little Inquisitor with her exalted presence later tonight? I have some questions about the Princess, and thought that you might like to share your insight on the matter.” Nacissa is, after all, Princess Circe’s closest friend… or was.

    She smiled, the expression a sickly sweet coating over poison. “You should have thought about that before you selected some… Tourish bandit over me.” She glared at Alizea, who glared back.

    You Decide To:

    [ ]
    Ignore Nacissa
    [ ] [roll] Try to persuade Nacissa into helping you with Princess Circe. [CHA] [Challenging]
    [ ] Try to force her to aid you.
    [ ] Try to bribe Nacissa into helping you.
    [ ] Try to blackmail Nacissa into helping you (You possess minor blackmail material)
    [ ] Write-in

    She turned on her heel, and left, back towards the group of students examining the Siege Armour. “Ah, yes, of course I will explain how the gunlance works!”

    “The Astemmian Villainess, everyone,” Theodore quipped. “Nice. A textbook example.”

    Alizea nodded. “The Yankeevine propaganda almost writes itself, doesn’t it?”

    You turned back to Stefan. “Perhaps you’d like to come by later tonight for a personal interview, Baron von Kürschner?” You smiled sweetly and fluttered your eyelashes. May as well speed this up.

    “A ‘private interview’ at night with you is something I’ve been waiting for a very long time. You know I’ll be there.” Stefan replied. “I’ll just go and pick out my very best outfit for the occasion…” He winked. “Even if you’ll be taking it off me soon enough.”

    After he had given you a bow and turned to leave, you grimaced. You were not looking forward to this.

    It was time then that you started your investigation in earnest; however, the specific ordering may very well be of importance. You had given each of your intended interviews a specified time from evening to night. You looked down at a piece of paper you had written for yourself.

    What was that ordering?

    (This is a ‘ordering vote’, and as such you will not vote a singular choice, but instead arrange the available options into a hierarchy of choices from top being first to bottom being last, representing the sequence of interviews that Visser will perform)

    The interviews are as shown (not ordered):
    -Princess Circe de Meer
    -Princess Circe de Meer’s retainers, servants, friends and possible paramours
    -Lady Justitia van Fors
    -Lady Justitia van Fors’ retainers, servants, friends and possible paramours
    -Lady Rosemarijn de Lievens
    -Lady Azaze och Behelial
    -Baron Stefan von Kürschner


    Ordered Vote
    [ ] (1):
    [ ] (2):
    [ ] (3):
    [ ] (4):
    [ ] (5):
    [ ] (6):
    [ ] (7):
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, INVESTIGATE AZAZE
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Azaze

    [X] Write-in: ABRIDGED: "We don't have time to deal with your petty BS, so take this money and either start helping or get out of our hair."

    [X] Write-in: Not yet, but I imagine I will soon.

    [X] Plan: Unobtrusive Middle Placement
    -[X] (1): -Lady Azaze och Behelial
    -[X] (2): -Lady Rosemarijn de Lievens
    -[X] (3): -Princess Circe de Meer's retainers, servants, friends and possible paramours
    -[X] (4): -Princess Circe de Meer
    -[X] (5): -Baron Stefan von Kürschner
    -[X] (6): -Lady Justitia van Fors' retainers, servants, friends and possible paramours
    -[X] (7): -Lady Justitia van Fors



    ~~~

    Once the demonstration was finished and the crowd of students had begun to make their way to their dormitories, you again approached Nacissa.

    “I apologise for my untowardness, Lady Corporal,” you said, giving her the sweetest smile you could muster. “I did not mean to slight you; I thought that a Corporal of the Knights Templar and Duchess-in-Waiting would have more important things to do than to stand guard on a routine Appraisal and research mission with no prestige and little gold to offer.”

    “Hmph. It would be below me, if Inquisitor Vrooman hadn’t insisted I hear the ‘collaboration’ she had in mind for me in Astoria. Do you know I had to come all the way from Gudenschau just to be told that it turns out I wasn’t selected for the mission anyway? And for an Academy Appraisal of all things!” Nacissa said, as her thoughts detailed her plans for petty revenge against Mechtelt, mixed in with inner shouts telling you to stop spying on her.

    “But as you were clearly interested in coming anyway, I would appreciate any help you could offer. I have some reason to suspect one of the noble ladies in this school to be under Possession.”

    “And how is that my business?” She waved you away, as if you were a servant taking her teacups back to the kitchens. “You are an Adjutant-Inquisitor First Rank; I’m quite sure you can handle one measly Isekai.”

    She seemed to feel this was enough of a response, however you waited patiently. A few seconds passed, and then your understanding of Nacissa paid off.

    “But, pray tell – who is the lucky girl?” she asked, an eager smile on her face. Nacissa, Circe and Marijke all had one thing in common: their love of gossip.

    You needed to stand your ground. “Lady Corporal, you are not currently one of the agents on this case, and so you will not be privy to this information unless you choose to cooperate. If you are not interested in assisting with the investigation, I will have to kindly request that you take your Siege Armour, your butler, and… Sir Fluffles, and leave the premises, as it risks interfering with the study. If you wish, I will offer you two hundred gold shields and your listed Inquisitorial fee to either assist me or swear not to interfere with the mission.”

    You could see the gears in her head turning. You knew she did not need the money; it was your humiliation that she was after. This need competed with her need for petty gossip, and her need to feel important by apprehending an Isekai. “I’ll take every last copper of requisition she has!”

    “One thousand gold shields, plus my fee.”

    “Three hundred.”

    “Do you seriously think you can haggle with me, Visser?” she said, snickering.

    “Yes, I do,” you said, unperturbed. “Five hundred gold shields, plus your fee… and –”

    Nacissa continued to laugh.

    “ – And all credit in apprehending any Isekai I discover through the investigation.”

    Nacissa stopped laughing, appearing to genuinely consider this.

    You smiled. “I do not need acclaim; only the knowledge that I have followed the decrees of the Gods by purging the world of Isekais.”

    “Agreed,” she said.

    After some time, you offered your hand. You didn’t expect her to accept it, but eventually to your surprise she extended her hand as well. You shook hands briefly. She gestured towards Igor; in a flash he reached into a pocket and offered her a silk handkerchief. She pointedly wiped her hand clean and handed it back to Igor as though it was contaminated with the Padoru Plague.

    “Igor, take Sir Fluffles to the stables.” Igor bowed again and walked off, leading the great war beast by the bridle out of the auditorium.

    Once he had left, Nacissa leaned closer to you. “So, spill the tea. Who is it?”

    “The Second Princess Circe de Meer,” you said in dead seriousness.

    Nacissa looked at you. The briefest flash of shock, followed by disbelief, and then, intense annoyance.

    “You little wretch,” she spat out. “Do you think a stupid handshake and a little gold will bind me to your stupid attempt at revenge on my friend?”

    “If you like, you may examine the Appraisal documents with your own eyes and question the Appraiser. I could hardly believe it myself.”

    “You can’t be serious. The Appraisal documents? This is Princess Circe, do you honestly believe I would take whatever you’ve written down on Circe as anything other than some deluded attempt at… slander?”

    “Slander is spoken. When written, it’s libel,” you said, unable to resist the urge to needle her a bit.

    “Shut up, peasant!”

    “Just read the Appraisal, and observe… the Princess. Please, you are one of the few people who will understand.”

    You nodded to Theodore. “Theo, please escort Lady van Luttefmont-Furholjan to Appraiser Eikehouten, and thoroughly brief her on our investigation so far. In the meantime, I must proceed with my research interviews.”

    “Fine, whatever,” Nacissa said, but reluctantly followed Theodore.


    ~~~​


    With that out of the way, you could interview Azaze och Behelial. You expected this to be short. After all, she was not under suspicion of Possession; you merely wanted to help her with her Soul Starvation.

    “Do you honestly think it was a good idea to bring that Templar on the case?” Alizea asked you as you walked back to the classrooms. “You clearly have a feud with each other, and she was friends with the Princess. If anything, she’ll spook the Isekai.”

    “You’re right, this is a risk, but Nacissa is also powerful, with a pedigree and connections and all the things we don’t really have. If we eventually try to make accusations against whoever Circe is now, it’s probably better to have one of the few people who might actually believe us and can do something about it on our side now.”

    “But she seems to hate you, hell, she suspected you of slander straight away. Why would she believe you?”

    “Tell me. Based on what you have seen of Nacissa, what do you make of her?”

    Alizea was silent for a while.

    “Someone who has never been told no, I’d say. I’d say what I used to be like, but even then…”

    “And when you were observing the Princess, what did you make of her?”

    “So you're saying Nacissa will believe us because Circe should be more like her?”

    “Circe should be much worse than her. That is the thing, Nacissa was Circe’s closest friend, but she knew how she really was. She views Circe like how I see her. She is one of the few people in this country who could tell you how truly alien the current princess is acting, and isn’t either already silenced or has grounds for an ulterior motive that will make what they say meaningless… like me.”

    “What type of princesses do you have in this country…” Alizea murmured. A massive… rude one, you thought to yourself.

    The two of you walked in silence, deep in thought. Alizea hummed a strange song, repeating the same line over and over. “You made a mess for Christ’s sakes, this rotten world. Shit out of luck. Go with my vision…”

    You knew from your studies, and your time with Baudelaire, that Reclaimed Humans lived with a faint ghost of their former possessor whispering in their minds, and that they even heard their ‘songs’ on occasion. You idly wondered what song Baudelaire had… or Nacissa.


    ~~~​


    You arrived at the empty classroom where you had held the Appraisals, just as Averink escorted Azaze in.

    “Please take a seat,” you said. Azaze still looked suspicious, but obliged, sitting down at the desk. Averink took a seat next to you, writing down his own notes.

    “We shall now begin the interview. Do you swear by the Gods above and the Archdemons below that your answers are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?” you asked, giving the traditional Inquisitorial oath of testimony, with a slight alteration to reflect Azaze’s religion.

    “I do.”

    “What is your name?”

    Azaze rolled her eyes. “Just look at the file.”

    “Just say it,” Averink said, clearly exasperated.

    Azaze gave a sullen huff of breath. “Azaze Urdeus och Behelial.”

    “And your age?” you asked.

    “Eighty-six years.”

    You nodded, confirming these basic facts. Behind your mask of professional neutrality you smiled inwardly. It was quite odd to you that an eighty-six-year-old would act as Azaze did. Sure, they were demons and matured far slower – and lived far longer – than humans, but it still amused you that someone almost five times your age was in fact still a hormonal teenager in mind and spirit.

    And being a hormonal teenager was hard enough.

    You slid the current Appraisal file towards her, deciding it was better to get straight to the point. “‘Soul-starved.’ Why haven’t you been eating?”

    Azaze looked down at the file, and then back at you.

    “Are you stupid?” Azaze said. “You humans won’t let us consume souls in your country. You know, illegal, like slavery is? Did you really call me to a personal interview just to remind me of this? I thought I was under suspicion of possession somehow.”





    You placed both of your hands slowly over your face in resignation as understanding dawned upon you.

    “You… aren’t aware.” you said slowly.

    “What?”

    “Yes, the consumption of the souls of people is illegal. People.”

    “What.” Azaze repeated. “No, that is nonsense. You humans all banned it, like in the Yankeevine Empire, you have the same laws! Why do you think there aren’t any Demons in the Yankeevine Empire?”

    “We are not the Yankeevine Empire. This is the Kingdom of Astem, which your father is the ambassador of your country to.” You could not believe it. This girl… had gone on for what was possibly years thinking that Astem shared the same laws as the Yankeevines.

    “Your laws are based on theirs… and…”

    “And have changed drastically over the last two centuries. We are not a Yankeevine colony anymore. You must have seen the many other demons that live in Astem now, right? Do you think all of them would stay here if there were laws that made it impossible for them to live here?”

    “Well… I have…”

    “How are you still sane?” Alizea suddenly asked from beside you. This outburst was unusual, and Averink was about to shush her, but you held up your hand to stop him.

    “I’ve seen soul-starved demons before, when I… saw slaves in the Demon Empire,” Alizea tried to explain. You caught an unspoken word: “worked.” “The demon slaves that were denied souls for long periods, maybe a bit over a year… They were deranged wrecks, clawing and biting at each other, even themselves… Do you mean to tell me you have been denying yourself since you arrived here?”

    Azaze nodded silently. “I just thought… you’re all humans and, you know. I wasn’t allowed to bring my slaves either. Just my Monstrine butler.”

    You looked down at Azaze’s appraisal. Her willpower of 16 was as impressive as her complete lack of any knowledge in Astemmian law and poor understanding of her own empire’s law was… illuminating in retrospect.

    “Clearly, you cannot go on like this for much longer,” you said, as gently as you could. “In Astem, demons consume the souls of the non-sapient to live. Animals, some monsters. I understand that perhaps it may be unsatisfying compared to the souls of humans –”

    Azaze made a face. “Vegetarians, my father calls them.”

    “Regardless of what your father calls them, you will have to do it to keep yourself healthy. Eventually, you might snap and lose control altogether. You've already attacked one of your classmates.”

    “I wasn't really going to eat her!” Azaze yelled. “I just wanted her to stay away from Stefan!”

    “Be that as it may, you do not know what you may do next time. What happens if the next person you lash out at is Stefan? Wouldn’t you want to be in full control of yourself?”

    “I am in full control of myself! I am not like one of those… filthy slaves eating themselves! I bet they aren’t even Nephilim. Probably some lowly Chortians or Cambions.”

    “You don’t need to be at the point of trying to eat yourself to be dangerous to people you care about, or to do things you don’t mean to do.”

    Azaze groaned, but nodded. You could hear trace thoughts of her mind fixating on her embarrassment at not knowing the laws and trying to justify reasons for not doing what you suggested. Her next counter-argument was going to be that eating animal souls was beneath her and would make her weak.

    Before you could prepare a rebuttal, Alizea seemed to also tell that she was going to be unreasonably stubborn, so she stepped in again. She leaned forward, as if to impart a secret.

    “You know, if you weren’t soul-starved and at your full-strength, the boys in this Academy might like you more. You’d probably have your own reverse-harem if you weren’t struggling with starvation all the time.”

    And of course, just like that, Azaze was now receptive.

    “Really?”

    “Absolutely. Have you seen all the women here? Confident and self-assured. Just ask the Inquisitor here, she used to be a student here not long ago. Who were the girls who got all the guys?”

    The demon girl looked at you.

    “Uh…” you said awkwardly. “Yes. Yes, girls who were very… confident. Who ate properly, took what they needed, and didn’t have to turn into dragons to boss others around.”

    “You mean girls like Circe, right? She’s always hoarding all the guys, or well, she used to. Now she’s just hoarding those four…” Azaze muttered. This piqued your interest.

    “Those four?” you asked. You were quite sure from Azaze’s aura that Alizea’s words had mostly convinced her on the starvation issue, so you figured you may as well exploit this interview to get any more information on Circe.

    “Yeah. You know? They hang around her all the time. Stefan, Prince du Valois, that centaur prince, Ludomir… and… that wannabe priest, I forgot his name.”

    Oh no, you thought. You knew exactly who these four individuals were.

    Stefan von Kürschner, Pierre-Antoine du Valois, Ludomir Dąbrowski… and you were willing to bet that the trainee priest was Kasper de Haarten. The four boys that hounded you everywhere when you were a student. The ones all drawn to your… Otome Attractor.

    “What are your thoughts on the Princess?” you asked.

    “What does that have to do with my soul starvation?” she responded, sceptical.

    “Please, just humour me. It’s quite important.”

    She paused, staring questioningly at you, her thoughts wondering if this was some kind of trap, to lure her into stating something that could be considered lesè-majesté.

    “What you say here will not leave this room, you have my word.”

    “I… just don’t understand your kingdom’s Princess. First she had Quintijn, then Stefan. I remember her saying that she thought Pierre and Kasper were too effeminate and, ahem,” she coughed awkwardly and held up her hand, her finger and thumb a few inches apart. “Insubstantial, for her. She’s been obsessed with the males of my race for as long as I’ve known her, was even betrothed to the Sarut-damned Black Prince.”

    You nodded along, remembering the Princess’ fear upon seeing Theodore, which you could only imagine was because he was in a demon disguise. Something that obviously did not match up. The Circe you knew would have been all over him.

    “She laughed at the girls who said Ludomir was handsome, saying they were… beast-lovers. Now she’s suddenly hoarding all the men she said were pathetic or gross? Can one woman really be so spiteful that she would create a harem around her of men she isn’t even attracted to, just to spite everyone else?”

    “Did you talk to her much in the past?”

    “Well, every now and then. She asked questions about the Demon Empire, our culture, fashion and so on. She wanted to impress the Black Prince when she married him, otherwise, not really. I was just the daughter of an ambassador, too lowly to be seen with the Princess.”

    You nodded again.

    “Is that all? I’d rather not talk about the Princess. I want Stefan, fine, but I understand enough not to pick a fight with your kingdom’s royalty… or the Black Prince,” she said with a shudder. “I’ll eat the stupid animal souls, ok? Is that enough?”

    You closed your eyes. It was tempting to continue, but you could tell Azaze was getting increasingly uncomfortable, and that she likely didn’t know much else.

    “That is fine, I was simply curious,” you said. “And I am glad to hear it. Eat healthy and I’m sure boys will flock to you like… badgers to honey,” you continued, a little embarrassed but confident that Alizea’s suggestion would motivate Azaze.

    “That will be all,” you said. “This is the end of the Investigational Interview of Azaze och Behelial.” You applied seal and signature to your transcribed notes. After all, these would be submitted to the Inquisition as evidence.


    ~~~​


    “Thank you for your help, Alizea,” you said earnestly. Averink and Azaze had left the room, so it was simply you and your agent.

    Alizea turned to you.

    “What, for helping the demon girl get over herself?”

    “Of course, helping her might not have stuck otherwise. You gave her a reason to help herself.”

    “You really are a Saintess, huh?”

    “What?” you asked. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called a Saintess.

    “I mean… you didn’t have to help her. You didn’t have to negotiate with that Templar and you don’t even really need to help the Princess, you could have just reported the Appraisal and washed your hands of this.”

    “I’m just doing my job.”

    “No. I’m sorry, but I know other Inquisitors. I don’t even think Mechtelt would have done what you are doing. You really are a Saintess, just doing good deeds because it's good to do, I guess.”

    “Do… do you think I am too naive, then?” you asked nervously.

    She laughed. “Yes. It's clear you… but no, nevermind. You shouldn’t worry. It's refreshing, actually. You cannot even begin to imagine the kind of sick, depraved people I have worked with, and not all of them were before I started working with the Inquisition.” As she spoke, you could see from her thoughts her words drawing the faintest image in your mind of… chains. Steel chains.

    “That you are like this… it's cute. Maybe you won’t live longer, but you should hold on to it. It makes working for you feel more meaningful.” She smiled, and patted you on the shoulder.

    You didn’t know if you should feel insulted or proud.

    [Alizea du Arceneaux approves of your handing of the Appraisal of the Academy Case.]


    ~~~

    Achievement Unlocked: The Greater Good is Made of Smaller Goods

    Rewards: (First is mandatory, second is a choice of 1 pick)

    First Reward

    [x] [Azaze will remember that.]

    Second Reward

    [ ] Empathy: Trailing Aura
    You feel as though your Empathetic vision is starting to see trails of emotion as Azaze left in a good mood. You can now see faint imprints left behind after someone has moved.

    [ ] Telepathy: Alien Mindscape [Demons]
    You feel as though you are getting a greater grasp of the thoughts of demons with this incident with Azaze, as you come to understand their similarities and differences to humans.

    [ ] Priest: Soothe Spirit
    You don’t need an appraisal, you can just feel it. The Priest Class Skill “Soothe Spirit” is within your grasp, allowing you to calm enraged creatures and men alike, remove berserk and terror effects and overall stabilise someone’s emotions and mind temporarily, as you have now done for Azaze.

    [ ] Unlikely Goodwill
    A foreign deity noticed your assistance for her foolish descendant and worshipper.​
     
    Interlude - SALARYMAN II
  • INTERLUDE - The Salaryman II

    Or,

    Outsider, Outlander, Auslander… Isekai.



    ~~~


    “Is this wise?” I ask, for the second time.

    A woman lightly armed in steel and leather simply nods, and throws another log onto the fire before walking away.

    We sit on old mossy logs around a campfire that threw soft orange light around our camp, yet did not make the depths of the deep and mountainous woods any less pitch black to my eyes.

    They could be out there, watching us. Right now. He could be watching.

    I wince. Even the slightest recognition of the girl’s ever-persistent father in my inner thoughts causes her to rattle in her ephemeral cage. As I have grown stronger and “levelled up,” as they say, my control over this body has strengthened, and slowly I have been able to ever-so-slightly subdue the girl within.

    “Let me out!” I can hear her faded scream. “Just wait until my daddy’s here!” It is unfortunate, but I simply cannot silence her. But she can be more easily ignored.

    All in all, I had decided to stay with the Underground Railroaders. As annoying as they may be, I understood that this world was incredibly dangerous, and I had more chance of survival by sticking with people who actually knew the rules of this world than to strike out on my own.

    We were heading northwest, they told us, towards the Yankeevine Empire, where we would be given safe haven. Part of our route would pass through their ally, a country called Wachstaat. Some Isekai would leave the route here as Isekai were decriminalised in this country, but in practice, Wachstaat’s government only protected Isekai who joined their military and served it as Kriegsmagier – a War Mage, in their language. It sounded suspiciously like my world’s German.

    I had no interest in being dragged into war against my will. Sure, I had once devoted my impetuous youth to the niches of war otakudom… but I matured out of such foolishness. War is horrible for the market, for human development. It is messy and inefficient. No rational man desires war, least of all to be a conscript in one. I’d traded in my guns and bombs for stocks and bonds.

    I would be lying if I didn’t admit that some deeper, animalistic part of myself, something from my youth… was tempted. My foolish younger self would have jumped at the chance. To strike back, to prove my talent and knowledge, to lead others who looked up to me, to experience the thrill of victory again and again…

    But such a fate was not for me. I desired safety at the rear.

    And the furthest back I could get was the “Yankeevine Empire.” I cringe, of course. Not even in this anime fantasy world could I escape the damn Americans. Still, it was the safest place I could run, and it promised a safe and lucrative job. I have been told… any Isekai or “Outsider,” as they called us, that arrived safely there was immediately given a seat in their “Upper Thinghall,” which was their form of Parliament, as far as I could tell.

    I would normally question the viability of such a system for efficient governance, but as it would benefit me immensely, I would milk it for what it was worth.

    Another twist of fate – I’d never considered becoming a politician.

    If I could make it there. I continue to stare out into the dark, seeing inquisitors and other crazy religious zealots from every rustle of leaves and bushes against the wind.

    “You worry too much, chill!” said a voice from beside me.

    I turn back to my campfire-side companion, the origin of the voice. Her face looked back at me – the round face of a girl a few years older than me, with short pink hair in pigtails tied with ribbons. She was eating a piece of cake and smiling an oblivious smile as if she were at a polite tea party, and not in this dark and foreboding forest.

    “Scraaaaa!” clicked or hissed our other companion. A literal spider, as large as my whole body. I could not fathom if it agreed or disagreed, however the pink-haired girl apparently could, and nodded in thanks to it. It ate whatever it could find.

    They were like me. Even, yes, the spider. I looked back at the old writing the spider had written into the dirt with a stick. Writing that was clearly, if somewhat messy, hiragana and kanji.

    “We are being hunted non-stop by mediaeval lunatics straight out of the dark ages. Why should I… chill?” I asked.

    “Because it's unhealthy. Pessimism will lead to premature balding, ya know.”

    I raise an eyebrow. I thought for some time, until I realised what she was trying to say. She was of course warning me that as I inhabited the body of a pre-teen girl, I should be careful not to damage its appearance, lest I damage any future prospects for a marriage alliance.

    How astute.

    I smile and nod, accepting her answer as pragmatic and thoughtful. She was right, of course. I need to consider more than my pursuers; I need to consider my ambitions for the future, once I had reached safety. I need to learn as much as I possibly could about this world’s cultures, history, society and technology. How have people like me, with our modern ways of thinking, affected this world? Was anything I knew useful here? Could I leech off some sucker through a well placed “marriage?” It wasn’t as if this girl was ugly, and she would probably grow into a useful asset as an adult.

    I was not even entirely certain why those maniacs were trying to kill us. The obvious answer was because of the screeching girl inside my head, but then what about the spider? Why are they in danger? Also, there was that creep I met at the safehouse, the fat otaku who kept making disgusting noises at me and calling me “Tanya,” as well as the fourth “Isekai” of our group, some scrawny idiot teenager who would never shut up and was off blabbering with the natives near the tents. Those two weren’t possessing anyone. Those otaku even looked like they walked straight out of a degenerate manga store in Akihabara, you couldn’t mistake them for possessed natives. And yet they still had to flee this place. To be honest, I would probably be fine with the creeps being hunted down, but it still begs the question.

    I asked my fellow compatriots by the campfire about it earlier, and the spider-thing had just written into the dirt “The Church is always evil in Isekai.”

    What does that even mean? Are they just trying to kill us because we exist? Or is this something about anime?

    For the first time in my life, I actually felt regret about not asking my son what his degenerate shows were even about.

    “At least coffee still exists here…” I say, to reassure myself.

    “Thank goodness for that,” Pink-hair replied. Good, a coffee-lover. My opinion of her continued to rise.




    k_TqaEJ1WmHzW-zrPbcsgMCeu0n6kLlkTqqCtsHOoWsMieRn8n8BrOMVcdBgOWU-vCoRqAUOfA8jYijp4WqldqIcAiRcHDa-uZamCY2Z4ud_r8ZUZILRawjDpbRflVGTOzIdgagTonI


    A photo of us by the campfire, taken by that teenage dumbass with the smartphone.​



    “You know, I never thought… this is how it’d be. When that… T— T… The thing killed me, the last thing I thought I’d be doing is hiding in the woods eating cake with you two,” Pink-hair said.

    “Well… of course you wouldn’t, you didn’t even know we existed.” I reply, perplexed. That is just common sense, right?

    “No no, I mean. You know. You’re Tanya, right?”





    Again with that name!

    “Who. The. Fuck. Is. Tanya!?” I screec– I mean, pronounce authoritatively.

    “What? You… You mean you’re not her?”

    “No, really. Who is Tanya? This isn’t the first time. I am not Tanya, this girl isn’t even her, her name was Marie–”

    My vision starts to blur and distort as a sharp pain passes through my skull. The fucking girl again.

    My vision returns with Pink-hair worriedly shaking me by the shoulder on the dirt. I nod in thanks, realising she must be concerned about the efficiency of our group's fighting strength if I was to perish here.

    With her and the spider’s help, I sit back up. My vision is still blurry.

    “How do you deal with the shithead inside your head?” I ask calmly, and in no way feeling anger, or wounded pride, over my stumble.

    “Have you, you know, tried talking with her?” Pink-hair asked. “That’s what I did. We’re pretty cool now.”

    “She just screams for her father.”

    “Wow, you really did end up in a child, hmm. How about trying to barter with her? Maybe you could promise to send letters to him.”

    “Her father is the guy with the eyepatch. You know, one of the ones trying to kill us. He helped kill all those guys in the safehouse before.”

    “Oh. Well shit, sucks to be you then.”

    “Thanks.” Her sheer naivety is almost endearing.

    “Krrrkuuuuscraaa gblglglgl kaka!” the spider said.

    “Yeah,” Pink-hair said. “We’re just meat puppets, driven by the ghosts of dead Japanese men.”

    I nodded along, until something clicked.

    “Do you mean that you’re a man too?”

    “Sure am. Was pretty nice to get reincarnated in a cutie, although no one told me about the co-pilot. It's not supposed to go like that in most of the Isekais I’ve watched…”

    I narrow my eyes. “You’re not one of those otaku perverts, are you?”

    “What? No, I just liked to read manga now and then. You’re telling me you’ve never watched any anime?”

    “Yes. I worked at MUFJ. I had no time to watch anime.”

    “MUFJ?”

    “Mitsubishi-UFJ Financial Group.”

    Pink-hair burst into giggles. “Wow, seriously? A salaryman! Are you sure you’re not Tanya?”

    I groan. I had the feeling that name would haunt me long into the future.

    The skinny teenager walked back to our group, sitting down on a log. "Yo, I just totally invented Mayonnaise for these people," the dumbass explained, unsolicited. "I'm going to show them how to make Ice Cream next."

    His next invention for this world: breathing through the nose, hopefully, I lament within my mind.

    “You know what’ll cheer everyone up? A nice campfire song!” With that, Pink-hair pulled a large wooden lute from the tiny bag at her, well, his, side. He, or she, strummed at the strings a few times.

    “Are you an idiot?” I snap. “They’ll hear us!”

    “Chill,” he tells me. “If they’re close enough to hear us, then we have bigger problems, and we might as well go out with a nice song, don’t you think?”

    I didn’t think, actually, but Pink-hair started playing in earnest.

    “Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you –” he sang in his girl’s voice.

    Ugh. Any song but that! Everyone around the campfire groaned. Even the dumbass.

    “I’ll have you know, this was a hit with all the girls – fine. I’ll pick another song.”

    I tried to ignore Pink-hair now, turning to the spider. I refused to converse with the dumbass, who was currently trying to take photos of everything with his smartphone. The idiot had an actual working smartphone…

    The spider and I, conversing through the dirt, started discussing what kind of technology could be useful in modernising this mediaeval people and making this world somewhat bearable. It seemed the spider had a more rational thought process than the idiot with the working smartphone. They even demonstrated a decent understanding of the Chicago School, to my delight. Were they a fellow capitalist? I dared to hope.

    “Ich reise viel, ich reise gern / Fer und nah, and nah und fern…” Pink-hair started singing. He took notice of one of the Underground Railroad agents, a girl with long golden hair whose light plate armour failed to hide her figure.

    “Ich bin zuhause überall / Meine Sprache: International!”

    Eventually, our native company, those not on watch duty, were brought from the tents to the campfire by Pink-hair’s amateur, and yet surprisingly melodious, singing. Pink-hair grew more enthusiastic. The spider took a nearby match, lit it, and waved it around with one of their arms.

    I begrudgingly listened along, surprised that Pink-hair could apparently sing what was clearly Rammstein.

    “Ich bin Ausländer, Ausländer! / Mi amor, mon chéri!”

    The skinny dumbass threw his arm around another of the female Underground agents, pulling her close for a selfie. Pink-hair leered at the blonde knight, who looked vaguely uncomfortable but was clearly staying silent out of politeness. I tried to strike up a conversation with the spider again about the necessity of the free market in modernising backwards cultures, and the comparative disadvantages of mercantilism, but the spider was now too busy waving its arms back and forth for any further discussion on Friedman or Hayek.

    “Ausländer, Ausländer! / Ciao, ragazza, take a chance on me!”

    Even I had to admit that Pink-hair was pretty good. If I’d found him busking at a subway station in Tokyo, I’d throw him some yen. Maybe.

    “Ich bin Ausländer, Ausländer! / Mon amour, я люблю тебя!”

    Was this… companionship? It feels… nice.

    “Ein Isekai, Isekai! / Come on, baby, c'est, c'est, c'est la vie!”
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, INVESTIGATE ROSEMARIJN
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Rosemarijn

    [x] Unlikely Goodwill
    A foreign deity noticed your assistance for her foolish descendant and worshipper.



    ~~~​


    After Azaze’s interview, you were in… quite the high spirits. A simple good deed, with no complications, no brutality, no deaths, either necessary or unnecessary.

    When you had first told the priests and nuns that you wanted to be an Inquisitor, they immediately tried to persuade you against it. They warned you it was a dark and lonely path. It was perhaps their own fault they were unsuccessful, of course. Mother Gran and her stories always focused on the wicked Isekais who preyed on the children who wandered off into the woods, and who ate those who stole bread from the kitchen, but rarely did she tell stories of the Inquisitors, who protected people from those monsters.

    You always insisted on hearing about them, the brave and holy warriors who fought off all these horrible Isekai monsters to save people from unspeakable crimes. You wanted to hear uplifting stories about Inquisitors who helped free those trapped inside their bodies, or swept away into the night.

    You wanted to hear stories with a happy ending, to hear about how you could actually help these people. You were sick of hearing dark stories of monsters punishing troublemakers.

    The problem was, of course… Mother Gran had good reason not to tell you of those stories. Inquisitors, as you’d found out, were hardly a shining order of gallant knights. It was convenient to use Isekais as a bogeyman to frighten the young orphans into proper behaviour, but stories of Inquisitors torturing an Isekai to death were not as popular as stories about a knight rescuing beautiful maidens from a Nephilim dragon’s harem, or even of Templars riding out to push back Yankeevine invaders.

    The work of an Inquisitor was either dreary and mundane… or horrifying. So, to be able to help Azaze like this, for a simple yet profound problem… You were proud. You did something that the innocent childhood vision of your future self would have done.

    It made you almost believe that you didn’t have to look into the abyss to defeat it. That feeling of pride stuck with you, so strongly that you could almost feel its golden aura around you like a beam of sunshine or a warm blanket, as if it belonged to someone else who was watching you, pleasantly surprised at your help.

    The priests liked to say that pride goeth before a fall… but for now, why not bask in the simple pleasures of a job well done?

    [Nephemem, the Vainglorious, approves of your handling of the Azaze Investigation. She will remember that.]



    ~~~​



    You waited now for the arrival of the next of your interviewees, the Lady de Lievens. You expected this to be another simple interview. You did not suspect her of being under Possession, but from the strong emotional reaction she had to Circe, you thought she might provide useful evidence in your investigation of the Princess. It was simply a matter of coaxing that information out of her.

    Averink escorted Rosemarijn into the room. She was calm, now that Circe was not in the room, despite the worries she had of being under suspicion. She curtsied, then took a seat at the desk. The researcher took his customary seat next to you to observe the interview.

    “We shall now begin the investigative interview,” you said. “Do you swear by the Gods above that your answers and testimony are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?”

    Rosemarijn nodded. “I do.”

    “What is your name?”

    “Rosemarijn de Lievens.”

    “And your age?”

    “Seventeen years old.”

    You nodded and smiled, while flipping through the Appraisal reports for the appropriate paper. Lady de Lievens stayed silent, sitting stoically with her hands folded in front of her. As with her Appraisal, her eyes wandered the room as she silently observed everything around her.

    “Lady de Lievens, your Appraisal has, for the most part, conformed with the expected results of a lady of the Kingdom of Astem,” you said, while looking down the document. “Congratulations.”

    Rosemarijn remained unfazed, her face one of calm and grace, however you could see her aura of confusion. Then why…? You heard her thoughts.

    You were, of course, not going to immediately help with that confusion.

    “There is just one peculiarity that stands out, one that leads on to my first question. How would you describe the Second Princess?”

    Rosemarijn remained silent for a good dozen seconds. However, interestingly, the aura of confusion around her faded. It seemed she understood your line of questioning, and a tinge of anxiety followed this awareness that only grew stronger as she considered her answer.

    “The Second Princess is an upstanding young lady, and a delight for the Kingdom. I am honoured to attend the same Academy as the Princess,” she finally said.

    “And her personality?”

    “Kind, generous, wise, chaste and faithful, all that can be expected of a proper young lady and more,” Rosemarijn said. She tried to hide it, but you could hear the sarcasm in her polite words.

    “Your insights are appreciated, thank you. With all that said of the Princess, my second question is this: Why then does your Appraisal have the name of the Second Princess as your archenemy?"

    Rosemarijn sighed. Resignation, without shock or alarm. She expected this.

    “Does that make me an Isekai, or are you accusing me of treason?”

    "Neither, however, to be listed on an Appraisal as such is a strong sentiment. The Princess’ life is often at risk from assassination, and if you could clarify your relationship with her, it would help to reduce any future misunderstandings.”

    You had taken this angle of questioning very deliberately. You wanted Rosemarijn's information on the Princess, however you also wished to avoid clueing her in on the true purpose of this interview – that you suspected the Princess herself of possession. In due time, perhaps you could summon her as a future witness, but for now you had to be careful.

    “Very well then, to clear any ‘misunderstandings’... I am no threat to the Second Princess.”

    “And your archenemy status? Do you deny the validity of your Appraisal?” Averink asked.

    “No. I accept it, but it is not like that. I hate the Second Princess for what she did to my family. She destroyed my family.”

    “The Second Princess destroyed it, how exactly?” you inquired, sceptical. The de Lievenses were known to most for their controversies and…scandalous behaviour. The Duke and Duchess’ marital disputes had been a thing of public record for quite some time, so unless she meant…?

    “My brother’s disgrace. It was her doing. He was guilty of only doing what she instructed, as… unsavoury as it was.”

    Understanding came to you. This was not a fight with the Princess Circe of now, but the Princess Circe of then. Joren de Lievens was disgraced two years ago, disinherited and stripped of his title of Duke-in-waiting, before your graduation and at the time you certainly knew Princess Circe was still… herself.

    “And that was…?” you asked. Joren’s reason for being disowned had never been revealed, so it was very much news to you that Princess Circe was, allegedly, behind it.

    Rosemarijn paused again to carefully consider her words.

    “May I speak freely, Lady Inquisitor, and confidentially?” she finally asked.

    “I assure you that nothing said here will leave this room,” you said.

    “While my brother was not supposed to tell anyone what occurred, as you can guess, he confided it to me. What he told me was that he was summoned privately by the Princess to the Starlight Inn for an illicit rendezvous of her making.”

    “And so he was disowned… for this rendezvous that she planned?” you asked. You would normally accept this answer, considering Princess Circe's past behaviour, however you also knew that the Princess had numerous paramours who seemed to avoid any kind of punishment.

    “Lady Inquisitor, I am aware you have attended this Academy previously. I believe you have a grasp upon how many of our noble peers act, how they treat the Academy of Light as a courtship service rather than a magical school?”

    You couldn't argue with that. “I have indeed, and I attended the Academy with the Princess. I am aware of her… frequent paramours. Why was your brother singled out?”

    “My brother was singled out because he was not the only one invited to that Inn. As they like to say, three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. To make a long and sordid story short, all three men were caught, put to the question, and blamed for the dishonourable conduct, although one of them, a Merchant-Prince from Prospero, was simply paid off to remain silent.”

    “You are making extremely serious claims, to portray the Princess as… as some kind of common harlot,” Averink said, his tone a warning.

    “She portrays herself as such,” Rosemarijn replied, more sharply than you would have liked. “You read her Appraisal file, right? She’s probably still worshipping Ishtar and all those… demon boys, right?”

    You nodded silently, not correcting her.

    “So you hate the Princess because, as you claim, she slept with your brother and a group of other men?” Averink asked, looking over at her from above his glasses.

    “No. As I said, I hate her for destroying my family. My brother is an idiot and only thinks with his…” She cut herself off, not willing to say anything crass. “But, he did not plan that night at the Inn, or he did not plan for it to happen the way it did. He had never even met the other men there, let alone a Prosperean Merchant-Prince, and yet he was blamed for the incident. The court gossips even gave them a name, the ‘Indecent Trio.’ My father was shortly afterward dismissed from his post as the Queen's Minister of Justice, and forced to disinherit my brother.”

    “Can you prove that?” Averink asked.

    “No. But I can tell you this: My brother is not the first to have this happen to him, nor will he be the last, and nor is this the only kind of thing the Princess does. I don’t know who, but I can assure you that the Second Princess has made many enemies in this country. The way she treats people… It is unsurprising to me that there are so many assassination plots against her."

    “I am quite sure those plots are more likely due to the Yankeevine Empire wishing to bring down Astem and the Demon Empire’s future marriage alliance, rather from any kind of personal grudge against the Second Princess,” Averink retorted.

    “Assassination plots require assets inside the country of the target,” you say, surprising Averink by defending Rosemarijn. “Even if the assassin themselves is a foreigner draped in a cloak, they need insiders to give them the opportunity to strike.”

    You weren’t an assassin or spy, but Inquisitors worked in a close enough field that you picked up some of the trade… and there was also Baudelaire.

    “As the Lady Inquisitor said. I understand this may incriminate me, but I am trying to make a point. If you want proof of my claims, simply follow the trail of ruined lives the Princess has left behind. I am betting that you will find that I am not the only one who has this particular Archenemy.”

    Silence followed. This was not exactly particular to your investigation into The Princess’ possession… however it was still information about her, perhaps even useful information.

    You paused to write this down in your notes.

    “The Second Princess is… possibly one of the worst people I have ever met in my life,” Rosemarijn suddenly said, unprompted by you or Averink.

    You neither commented for or against her. Once upon a time, you may have even agreed with her, before you saw those caged children, crying and screaming in the cave where the Pied Piper once lived.

    After that… Princess Circe didn’t seem so bad anymore.

    “I – I have often wondered how she even exists. I have met the Crown Princess Cilicia, and she was the perfect image of what one would expect of a princess. Kind, graceful, regal, and wise. Queen-Regnant Cicada and her King-Consort seemed the very portraits of what is proper in a Royal Couple, at least to me. How could the offspring of such parents be so…horrid?”

    “What is your point?” Averink asked.

    “You wanted to know what I think of her, her personality. I just find it strange that such a… libertine, vain and cruel bully could come from such a family. I pondered it for a long time, although I think I might have an answer. Did you know that soon after the incident with my brother, the Second Princess was betrothed to that Demon Prince? The same year, declared only weeks later. Fascinating, right?”

    “I am aware of the date,” you say. The Princess was indeed officially declared betrothed two years ago, celebrated with public ceremonies and feasts, however you also knew that the intended alliance had been in the works for quite some time before that, as far back as the reign of Cirano III. After all, the Empire was wealthy and powerful, with military might and magic capable of shielding Astem from the Yankeevine threat. “Do you believe that her behaviour is linked to her betrothal, then?”

    “I think so, yes. I think the Second Princess has been moulded specifically to appeal to a Demon Prince. His people’s culture, traditions, what he would value in a concubine. And I’d say they succeeded. After all, the customs of demons are far different from our own. Do Nephilim nobility not collect harems of paramours in a sort of collective marriage arrangement?”

    You nodded. This was true.

    “After Joren was caught by the Princess’ guards and brought back to the Palace, my father was summoned to observe his judgement, as with the other young men. The Princess was brought in and asked whether she recognized them. According to my brother, she was unrepentant, even proud, as she confirmed the purpose of her rendezvous. The Princess intended to …have them all at once.”

    “This is an Inquisitorial investigative interview, not a salon for the airing of petty palace gossip,” Averink cut in once more.

    “I am getting to the point,” Rosemarijn said. “The Princess told the Queen and King-Consort that she was doing nothing that wasn’t done in the Demonic Empire, and that to avoid any shame she would simply marry them all and make a harem of them, like a demon princess in Dis. And only a few weeks later, the announcement came forth that she was betrothed to one of the Padisha Emperor’s sons. I do not think this was mere coincidence.”

    “Thank you, Lady de Lievens, your insight has been very helpful,” you said. “One last question: have you noticed any changes in Princess Circe’s behaviour recently?”

    “I have tried my best to avoid her since the incident,” Rosemarijn said, shrugging. “It was not hard. She left me alone, since she mostly harassed girls of common birth…” Her voice drifted off, as if noticing that you yourself fit the criteria for “girls of common birth.” She paused once more to think. “But from what I have heard, she seems to have gathered another harem again. I tried to warn one of them that Princess Circe would be his ruin, as she was my brother’s, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

    You sat up in your chair and leaned forward. If your hunch was true, Rosemarijn had just corroborated Azaze’s testimony. “Do you know who they are?”

    “Prince Ludomir Dąbrowski of Neu-Alaynia, Prince Pierre-Antoine du Valois of Tourine – he was the one I tried to warn – Kasper de Haarten, I think he’s the nephew of some Arch-Cardinal, and Baron Stefan von Kürschner.”

    The same four names. You’d seen from Stefan’s Appraisal that he had reduced resistance to Attractor traits; did the others have the same? What connected them to Circe, to each other, and to you? Did this mean that the Princess herself, or the Isekai possessing her, also had the Otome Attractor?

    At any rate, they would have to be questioned, as would the rest of the Princess’ close circle. As with Stefan, the prospect of a personal interview with them was not a pleasant one for you, even if the others weren’t quite as rakish.

    “If you have nothing more to add, that will be all,” you said. “I know this is an unpleasant subject for you, and I thank you for your cooperation.” You lit the candle, preparing to apply the Inquisitorial seal and signature to your notes. “This concludes the Investigational Interview of Rosemarijn de Lievens.”


    ~~~​


    Lady de Lievens had since left, leaving you and Averink to look through your notes, while waiting for the return of your agents.

    “I spoke with the Headmaster,” Averink said.

    You looked up. “What did you make of him?”

    “Apprehensive, maybe even flustered. I’m not exactly an investigator like yourself, but if I had to guess, he was not ready for this inspection, or otherwise is an exceptionally good actor.”

    “What about the Minister of Education? Did he say anything about him?”

    “The Headmaster claims his visit wasn’t his doing. Apparently the Education Minister forced his way in. Officially, the Minister is here to ensure the impartiality of the Second Princess’ appraisal… but if I had to guess, it’s to stifle the Inquisition.”

    “Then who ordered the Education Minister to come here?” you asked. You considered the Princess herself, or whoever was possessing her… but then, Theodore was right; her intelligence was hardly any higher than that of the actual Princess. She didn’t seem clever enough to fake a believable impression of the Second Princess, yet was smart enough to have the Minister of Education run interference? You didn’t buy it.

    “The Headmaster doesn’t know, or believes he was working of his own accord… or so he claims. Knowing what we know, I find it unlikely the Education Minister just decided to show up.”

    “Mhm…” you murmured in agreement.

    It was at that moment, as you and Averink pondered his discoveries, that the classroom door barged open. Nacissa strutted in first, her chest out and nose raised high. Fortunately, she was then followed by your agents and Appraiser Eikehouten, all filing into the classroom, with the exception of The Guard and Nacissa’s demihuman butler, Igor, who both stood silently by the door, their figures fading from view as Yasmijn closed the door behind her. The young Appraiser laid her head on her folded arms and slept; after all, while your investigation was chiefly concerned with those students who fit Averink’s profile of a theoretical possession target, every student needed to be Appraised before the Isekai Storm hit.

    Nacissa stood in the centre of the classroom, looking aside to the windows, arms crossed, tapping her foot, her displeasure obvious. Her thoughts were relatively easy to read, fortunately, so you knew she was only angry that you were right.

    “Well?” you asked. “Please share your thoughts, Lady Corporal.”

    “The Princess… is clearly not herself.” Nacissa said hesitantly, not wanting to believe what she said…or what she’d seen.

    “Then you know. This is not a personal vendetta against the Princess. I truly believe she has been possessed.”

    “Bah, as if,” Nacissa huffed, waving her hand in dismissal. “Just because it seems real, doesn’t mean this isn’t some kind of plot of yours. Who’s to say this wasn’t yours and Mechtelt’s doing in the first place? I quite remember that the Princess was mightily hysterical about something you two did to her in our graduating year…”

    You blinked in shock.

    “Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan, please refrain from making wild accusations of weebery against myself or Inquisitor Vrooman. I assure you, that… incident, had nothing to do with the Princess’ current predicament.”

    You couldn’t very well explain Mechtelt’s peculiar curse to Nacissa without either sounding ridiculous or slanderous, but you knew that while Mechtelt hated the Second Princess, she would never dare weaponise Isekais in such a manner.

    Compared to her righteous indignation and zeal in ridding the world of Isekais… there could be no contest. To your friend, Princess Circe was simply yet another decadent aristocrat and bully, no different than any other of that ilk as could be found in every kingdom. Mechtelt had real monsters to hunt down. And so did you.

    “Hm, so be it,” Nacissa said. While her voice was nonchalant, you could in fact see a tinge of guilt from her aura. You pressed on.

    “Our current running theory is that her possession may well be because of who she is normally, her personality, behaviour, what makes her… her.” Averink added, defending your innocence. “We at the Department of Isekai Studies believe a new novel Isekai has made itself known to our ruling classes… the Fujo.”

    “Averink’s research concerns the likely targets of the Fujo Isekai. We believe that, to speak plainly, the Fujo will target so-called ‘Villainesses,’” you explained.

    You noticed how Nacissa’s eyebrow twitched at the mere mention of the term. You would say, even as a Reclaimed, that she herself may very well be at risk. But you said nothing, because even if the Astemmian aristocracy embraced the Yankeevine pejorative, you knew Nacissa would treat it as an insult coming from your mouth.

    Even if unspoken, she understood the significance, and that was what mattered.

    “The envy and bitterness of the Isekais really know no bounds… They cannot merely be the rulers of the world, they need our bodies too…” Nacissa muttered to herself.

    “They always have,” Yasmijn responded. “Before, they took the bodies of girls and women like me, or Inquisitor Visser. Now it seems the aristocracy is finally experiencing what we have been suffering through for centuries.”

    Rather than retort with annoyance or derision, Nacissa actually nodded… sympathetically.

    “I know. My poor Igor was telling me all about how all the cute demihumans would be taken by Isekais and… It is too horrid to even discuss.”

    This concern for demihumans was something quite peculiar about Nacissa, or her entire family, come to think of it. The Luttefmont-Furholjans adored demihumans. There had always been a certain degree of… strife, between man and demihuman, a sad reality that Astem was no exception to, but Nacissa was patently not of this camp – rather the opposite. Neither was her sister – you remembered the uproar and scandal after her sister, the Lady Ninneke, gave up her inheritance and title to marry her own dressing attendant – a handsome and cultured catboy, of course. The last you’d heard, she was living off her husband’s salary as a weaver and her lady mother’s generosity. No doubt Igor hoped for similar good luck.

    However, there was also no doubt that Nacissa was far cannier than her sister.

    “My service is yours, Lady Inquisitor,” she said, almost forcing herself to address you by the formal title. “But make no mistake: I shall drag that thrice-damned Isekai out of my friend myself and thrash it for its impertinence!”

    “Lady Corporal, I think you will be most helpful by:

    Vote:

    [ ]
    Sitting for a personal Investigative Interview, for your insights on Princess Circe’s personality and behaviour.
    [ ] Accompanying me in interviews with Circe and her associates to ask questions.
    [ ] Observing my interviews with Circe and her associates to inform me if anything seems “off” or concerning.
    [ ] Not being directly involved for now, unless there is a direct danger to the Inquisitorial Agents.
    [ ] Write-In
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, Questioning of Marijke
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Circe – Questioning of Marijke I

    [x] Observing my interviews with Circe and her associates to inform me if anything seems “off” or concerning.
    -[x] Try to set her up somewhere where she can give us real time commentary via telepathy without influencing the interviews with her presence.
    -[x] Try to keep an open mind during the interviews. If there is a chance Nacissa is right, a false positive could be even worse than letting a possible Isekai go.



    ~~~​



    The time was rapidly approaching. You could feel it, even if the door to the classroom was closed and the room silent. You anxiously tapped your finger on the desk normally reserved for the classroom teacher, as you waited for the first of the Second Princess’ associates to arrive.

    You could hear a bored yawn through the partially opened window. While resistant at first, Lady Nacissa accepted your condition that she sit in on your interviews in a manner that would not affect or bias it with her presence.

    She would stand outside, listen in, preferably in silence, and you would read her thoughts to determine her views on what was about to be said.

    With you stood all of your agents, sans The Guard standing by the door, next to you sat Pieter van Averink, the Isekai Studies researcher, diligently writing all he would see and hear in his research notes. Finally Igor had left to accompany his mistress to not raise suspicions, and you could see flickers of his aura rising from the open window.

    You couldn’t delay this any longer. You silently prayed to the Gods, and hoped that Lady Luck would finally favour you.

    The door opened, and Yasmijn escorted the first of those on your list into the classroom, directing her to a desk in the centre of the front row. She sat down, but did not bother to give you a curtsy.

    “We shall now begin the Investigative Interview,” you said, arranging your face into a cold, professional expression. “Do you swear by the Gods above that your answers and testimony are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?”

    “I do.”

    “What is your name?”

    “Marijke de Vandewiele. What is the purpose of this – Lady Inquisitor?” She didn’t say it, but Marijke almost slipped up by calling you “peasant” again, out of habit.

    “We will be asking the questions here, young lady,” Averink said. “You are here to answer them.”

    Marijke turned to Averink, startled, as if just taking notice of him. Her face softened, and she batted her eyes a bit. You could see her aura shift into a bright pink.

    “Marijke is fond of handsome commoners,” you could hear Nacissa’s thoughts, directed at you. “Little surprise there. She likes to be the one in control.”

    You leaned over and whispered as much to Averink, who nodded as if this was nothing new to him. The young researcher was tall and handsome, with fine features and long dark hair. You were sure that many young ladies must have shown interest – until he started talking, no doubt, you thought with some rueful amusement.

    Well, Marijke was not going to be the one in control today, and you would have to make that very clear.

    “Could you please tell us about yourself,” you asked. “Briefly,” you added. You already knew who Marijke was, as she had been an accomplice of Circe and Nacissa in bullying you in your Academy years.

    She looked at you questioningly at the implication of this request, but nodded regardless.

    “I am the Marchioness-in-waiting of Waadensteig.”

    “Former,” Nacissa’s thoughts informed you. Averink seemed willing enough to protest this untruthful statement as well, but by the grace of the Gods he somehow had the common sense to remain silent enough for Marijke herself to continue. He even favoured her with a small smile.

    Encouraged by this, she continued. “My father, the Marquess of Waadensteig, illegally legitimised my bastard half-brother Adriaan so as to avoid complying with King Cirano III’s Succession Decrees, the ones that would make me, the eldest of his trueborn daughters, his heir. Rest assured though, I am in truth the legitimate heir.”

    Normally, aristocrats considered it impolite to air their own dirty laundry so openly, but you could see such frustration, anger and bitterness in her aura, even if she seemed to remain calm visually, that you could only conclude that her anger over it was enough to remove any inhibitions about revealing such personal information. What her father had done had not even been illegal, quite the opposite – a nobleman could always petition the Queen to remove the taint of bastardy from his illegitimate children by royal decree.

    Also, Marijke was always a blabber-mouth.

    “A travesty certainly, Marijke may be a bit on the dull side, but she is a fine lady, all things considered,” Nacissa’s thoughts ran.

    You highly doubted the “fine lady” part from your own personal experiences with Marijke, but Nacissa seemed to almost pre-empt this.

    “Not to mention, Adriaan was and is hardly a paragon either. He was one of Princess Circe’s paramours, you know, before Quintijn and Stefan. Arrogant and brooding. ‘Big in all the right places,’ just as the Princess liked them, even if he was golden-haired rather than dark. Not exactly a man that Her Saintness Visser would associate with. I of course have to deal with him now, since he joined the Templars too…”

    It was… odd. Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan, your old Academy bully, explaining to you the complexities of her friends' relationships in a, well, relatively neutral manner, at least compared to before. Always eager to see the best in people, you hoped this trend continued.

    That said, it was irritating that she did not inform you earlier about Adriaan’s connection to the Princess, though perhaps Adriaan was too far off to be of any use anyway, no doubt posted to some faraway border fort. Other than reading his name earlier in Stefan’s old Appraisal document, you had not seen the man in years, when he was a senior year to you in the Academy.

    You could not communicate this with Nacissa telepathically either way, only listen, so she remained silent.

    “Thank you for your answer. Next, I have been led to believe you have an association with the Second Princess. Can you please explain your relationship with her?”

    “Of course! I am a close friend of the Second Princess. She trusts me with all kinds of things.”

    “Such as?” you inquired.

    “Well, uh…” she stammered. She looked at Averink, but there was no help to be found there.

    You waited patiently.

    “Marijke was always more of a hanger-on. She attached herself like a homeless puppy to Princess Circe’s leg to absorb even of a fraction of her royal eminence,” Nacissa’s thoughts elaborated.

    “She used to… well, it doesn’t matter! I am a close friend. You should already know that, Viss– uh, Lady Inquisitor. Oh! And just ask Nacissa, she'll tell you! She’s at the Academy doing recruiting for the Templars!”

    “Figures,” Nacissa thought.

    “Let me remind you, I am here not as your former classmate, but as a representative of the Holy Inquisition, and you have sworn an oath before the Gods to give truthful testimony.”

    Marijke looked like a wild animal caught in a trap. “We were close! Until she decided to abandon us and run off to her stupid gardens!”

    Finally, you were getting somewhere. Like the animal in the trap, Marijke had decided to chew the limb off to save herself, just as you’d expected of her.

    Averink nodded. “Please go on,” he said, more kindly than you’d ever heard him. “When did she abandon you?”

    Marijke huffed, but slowly calmed down again.

    “Late last year. Around when you and Nacissa graduated.” She paused, thinking. “Actually, it was even before that. It started when… whatever it was you and Vrooman did to her. The Princess never explained it to us… but whatever it is caused her to become distant, and then she just stopped talking to us altogether.”

    “Is this what this is about?” Marijke asked, not verbalising the part of her thoughts wondering if you were trying to cover yourself from whatever horrible thing you did to the Princess.

    From Nacissa too, you could hear thoughts wondering what it was exactly that you and Mechtelt had done. Clearly, Princess Circe had never informed even her closest friends about the curse Mechtelt put on her… body, the one you had removed shortly thereafter.

    “This is an investigative interview for the Inquisition, not a matter of personal interest,” you said.

    But really, was that entirely true? Marijke had just linked the Princess’ sudden abandonment of her former friends to what you and Mechtelt had done.

    Could her sudden change really be attributed to that? Certainly, Princess Circe was so incredibly vain that not only did Mechtelt’s curse work in the way it did, but it reduced the Princess to a hysterical wreck… but to change her entire personality? To abandon her former friends? To change her skills and alignment and… to do all that?

    Or… did the curse…. have other effects? Could it… could it induce possession by an isekai? It just didn’t seem right. Maybe the curse had other characteristics Mechtelt didn’t know about… or maybe… the explanation was much more simple.

    Maybe the Fujo Isekai targeted… vulnerability?

    When Baudelaire was possessed, he was merely a child and a street urchin. Someone isolated and helpless. The type of ladies that the Fujo Isekai targeted, if Averink was correct, were hardly such people. Confident to the point of arrogance, beautiful to the point of vanity. Hardly the type of person to be isolated or helpless… unless they were put in a situation that would induce it.

    …Like humiliation. Public humiliation.

    “How did she change after that, exactly? I have talked to Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan, and she didn’t seem to think you were particularly close. But I think she may be… mistaken.”

    You could hear Nacissa fuming inside of your head at this impingement of her honesty. She needed to trust that you knew what you were doing.

    “Of course that catboy-kisser is mistaken! But…”

    “I assure you, what you say here will never leave this room,” Averink reassured her with another smile.

    And then, after a few moments, Marijke did exactly as you expected her to. She talked. A lot.

    Marijke listed numerous incidents and squabbles, barely pausing to take a breath. The Princess telling her off for making fun of Annelijn. The Princess removing her ringlet hair as “too much work for the maids.” Even an attempt to replace her outfit once, one that didn’t show off obscene amounts of cleavage and had a far more modest skirt, only coming to wearing her old attire again more recently.

    Dumped paramours. Proper ladies exiled from her presence, Marijke and another friend, Lisanne van Woolfen, included. Pigging out on sweets, which while this was something she always did, was now done openly, not even bothering with table manners, simply grabbing a shortcake or four and gleefully shoving it into her mouth with her fingers. The whalebone-lined corsets she’d had made, to give the illusion of a small waistline. The sudden interest in taking care of the gardens. The harem of boys who followed after her, simpering over her every word and acting as though she were Amoroa raised from the dead.

    After what seemed like forever, Marijke finally stopped talking. Averink and your agents, even Nacissa, seemed relieved.

    “Thank you,” Averink said, smiling again. “You’ve been very helpful.”

    “I’d be even more helpful to you, if we were to be alone together,” Marijke thought, blushing brightly. You were glad that Averink was not also a telepath, as Marijke had a lurid fantasy of herself and the researcher together in some sort of broom closet. This time, you did not grimace. Following Stefan and the Yankeevine ambassador, you were starting to get used to this now, or rather, reacquainted to how it used to be, inadvertently reading the idle and often lascivious thoughts of the students of the Academy of Light.

    It was bearable because Marijke was willing to talk, and you needed to take advantage of it while you still could.


    ~~~​


    You have many questions, but limited time to ask them all, particularly with the others to interview. You can pick 4 ask choices, or end the interview.


    [ ] Ask about Circe’s personality and behaviour
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s close relationships [Friends, Paramours, Family]
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s distant relationships [Rivals, Staff, Officials]
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s hobbies, skills and interests.
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s career aspirations or future plans
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s religious beliefs
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s political views
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on gender and sexuality
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on other races (Demons, Demihumans, Monstrines)
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on Isekais
    [ ] Marijke is unlikely to provide more useful information, end the interview
    [ ] write-in
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, QUESTIONING OF MARIJKE/QUINTIJN
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Circe – Questioning of Marijke II & Quintijn I

    [X] Ask about Circe's personality and behaviour
    [X] Ask about Circe's distant relationships [Rivals, Staff, Officials]
    [X] Ask about Circe's hobbies, skills and interests.
    [X] Ask about Circe's views on other races (Demons, Demihumans, Monstrines)



    ~~~​


    “How would you describe the Second Princess’ behaviour? How she holds herself, interacts with others and so on,” you asked.

    “The Princess treats people according to their station, as is her right. Other than abandoning and refusing to speak with us for utterly no reason I can think of, she has been nothing but unfailingly gracious to me and the other ladies,” Marijke explained.

    You nodded. Some people loved to hear the sound of their own voices, and would go on forever if you let them. Marijke was such a person, so all you had to do was allow her to talk.

    “The Princess is strong-willed and knows exactly what she wants. I for one respect that.”

    “Would you say that changed after the incident that you mentioned earlier?”

    “No.”

    “No…?” you repeated.

    “Other than refusing to associate with me anymore, she is just as loud and brash, I would dare say even more brash than before, if such a thing is possible.”

    “How so?”

    “Before, she was glamorous. Magnetic. Wherever she was in a room, that would become the centre of the world, and if it wasn’t… she’d force it to, as Nacissa would often find out… I learned to just stay in the back.”

    “Princess Circe is quite the thrower,” Nacissa added in her thoughts. You glimpsed the briefest image of a… what could only be a screaming Princess, throwing some kind of jewellery box.

    “But that said, back then she knew her place in the world. I understand if someone of your…” She gave a little cough, in order to remain polite on the record. “background, may contest that, but it is so. She acknowledged the standing of peers appropriately, followed rituals and tradition, she didn’t pursue the men claimed by others of high station. She was eager to perform her duty and obligations as a Princess, my, she was even eager to be married off and pump out spawn to that Black Prince. Now? Now she’s gone wild. Speaks to her maid as if a close friend, loudly proclaims her love of unlady-like activities and...” She paused.

    “And?”

    “That harem following her around? I am almost certain she now consorts with not just claimed men, but Princes! The demons might not have any notion of chastity or preserving one’s maidenhead before marriage, but she should know better than to court a betrothed prince of Tourine! And Neu-Alaynia… If I didn’t know any better, I’d dare say she was possessed…”

    You stared at her. She had said this final line in either jest or without much thought, because after saying that, she looked at you anxiously, as if just remembering you were an Inquisitor now, and not a student of the Academy.

    “I – I mean, that’s impossible of course! I wasn't making any accusations! I just think her behaviour has gone too far from how she was before. In my opinion. Her… appetites were manageable before, but now I fear she is going to cause a national scandal or catastrophe of some kind.”

    “What about her bullying?”

    “Oh please, that was just some harmless fun. You never could take a joke, could you?”

    You gave Marijke the most disbelieving stare you could muster.

    “It wasn’t as if we only played jokes on commoners, either,” she said, looking pleadingly at Averink.

    “This is at least true,” Nacissa thought. You agreed, if what you saw of her interaction with Annelijn was any indication.

    “I am aware,” you said curtly. “I mean to ask, did her bullying stop?”

    “I would hardly call it bullying, but she is much less fun now,” Marijke grumbled. “You’d think she was a Druid, like that Aoileann wench, for how much she talks of flowers and peace and friendship. Absolutely improper, if you ask me. After all, the lessers do need–” She broke off again, remembering that she was on the record.

    “What does she enjoy now? Besides flowers?” you asked.

    “I… would not truthfully know. As I said, I have not spoken or been with her in some time. I see her in the gardens often. She seems to become taken with plants when not with men, I think I even spied her trying to climb a tree once. The Princess has never been… a particularly nimble or light person, so the results were as funny as you’d imagine.”

    “What about…” You tried to remember what was listed in the Princess’ skills on her Appraisal. “Calligraphy? I think?”

    “Calligraphy? I, well, the Princess was never one for letters… Oh! You mean her demon painting. Yes. I remember that. Perhaps? She was utterly enamoured with all things Demon when I was around. She would have brushes to paint demon words in, cosmetics from Dis, even would dress up in their clothing, if you could call it that. I cannot imagine her to have stopped, but as I mentioned, she did experiment with more modest dresses for a time.”

    “What about duelling, and combat?” Averink asked, looking up from his writing. From what you’d seen of his research notes on the Fujo Isekai, he regarded a sudden interest in such pursuits as a warning sign of possession.

    “I recall the Princess carrying a rapier sometimes, as is fashionable these days. As the Princess, she knew that there may one day come an occasion where she must lead others into battle. But that was just talk. Thankfully she is, to my knowledge, not some sort of freak like that horrid Justitia. Honestly, you should be interviewing her, if anyone.”

    “You mentioned the Princess was fascinated with demons, could you explain that further?” you asked. “Also, what did she think of other non-humans? Demihumans, or elves?”

    “Well, her love for demons… I would go so far as to call it a fetish, comparable to Nacissa and her demihumans, really.”

    “Marijke hardly has standing to speak of fetishes,” you could hear Nacissa think. “She’d screw the stableboys, if she thought she could pin it on someone else!”

    “As I said, a lot of her interests are orientated around them, as are her interests in men… until recently at least. Not sure what is with that.”

    “Is there any reason why she might be afraid of Demons?”



    “What?”

    “Perhaps something happened to have caused her to have a negative experience with demons in recent history?” Averink added.

    “I mean… not that I know of? I know she visited the Foreign Quarter sometimes, to see the Demon Bazaar there, and to look at their silks and jewels. I also think that demon prince, the one she’s betrothed to, he visited her again maybe sometime last year?”

    This piqued your interest.

    “When, last year? After or before… that incident?”

    “Uh… I think a bit before. He stayed as a guest at the palace for a few weeks, then left. I honestly wanted to get a look at him, but he never visited the Academy, the Princess was always called to the palace instead.”

    The demon prince. He was here in Astoria, just a year ago, at the same time you and Mechtelt had… done what you had done.

    If you were right, if Isekais targeted the vulnerable and humbled, if the Princess had indeed been possessed just after Mechtelt had cursed her… Were the two of you to blame for it?

    The thought that you may have inadvertently baited an Isekai to possess the Second Princess was too terrible to think about.

    “Have you seen the Princess and the demon prince together, how they interacted? Is there any reason she would be afraid of him?”

    “No, and even more, no. Nacissa and I have heard all about the demon prince from Princess Circe, and I would doubt any claims made about her being afraid of him… if anything, he should be afraid of her. The Princess was absolutely infatuated with him, practically trying to jump him at the shortest notice.”

    "What are her thoughts on demihumans, or elves?"

    Marijke shrugged. “At a banquet held by Duke van Woolfen, a catboy waiter offered us some cakes, and the Princess said, ‘No thank you, I don’t take food from animals.’ We thought it was funny. Aren’t demihumans descended from the Monster races anyway? Demihumans were always Nacissa’s… thing.”

    Your lips thinned into the barest of frowns.

    “So I take it the Princess’... peculiar xenophilia does not extend to other races beyond demons?”

    “Well, ahem,” Marijke said, now becoming uncomfortable. While such racial views were not criminal or necessarily taboo, they were also not a matter of casual social acceptance either, especially since the Thaw, when much of the world had become more or less united against the Isekai threat.

    “I don’t believe the Princess hates… demihumans. She just doesn’t care all that much for them. From what I’ve heard, to her they are just Demis, and nothing special. She had that elf maid she used to get along with… but then again, she fired her last year, so… maybe? And then the centaurs. She used to say it was disgusting how Lisanne was interested in that centaur prince and how it may as well be bestiality… but, I mean, I guess she is okay with centaurs now, what with Prince Ludomir being one of her paramours…”

    From Nacissa’s aura and thoughts from outside the window, she seemed as if she were restraining herself from climbing through the window to throttle Marijke. You weren’t exactly enthused either, but maintained your professionalism. It was best to change the subject before she actually did it.

    “Thank you. Can you please explain to us the Princess’ interaction with others not immediately connected to her? Staff, servants, the like?”

    “Well, she talks with her maids all the time now. Treats them almost as if they were friends.”

    “And before?”

    “Before, she had a select few that she tended to bring along with her everywhere… what were their names... That elf, who was her dressing attendant, and what's-her-name who was her cook. But of course she maintained the proper amount of… distance from them. As I said, she knew her place within the world, and expected them to know theirs. That didn’t keep her from propositioning her personal guards if she took a liking to them, of course.”

    You nervously took a glance at the window. The sun had set a while ago and you still had to interview the Princess’ paramours and servants.

    “Do you have anything else you would like to add, Lady de Vandewiele?” you asked.

    “That is all,” she said. “I’ve answered your questions. It is for the Inquisition to determine what to do afterward.” It seemed that for once, Marijke was tired of talking.

    “Thank you for your cooperation. That will be all for now, though you may be needed for interviews in connection to others,” you said, relieved. “This concludes this interview of Marijke de Vandewiele.”


    ~~~

    Everyone had to sit in silence for a few minutes, just to take in the sheer amount of information. No doubt most of it was petty gossip and tattle, but of course, in even the wildest rumour there was usually a grain of truth. Marijke had corroborated the testimonies of others, and provided much of her own. Finally, you applied seal and signature to the transcript.

    “By Ishtar’s nipples… does this Fake Princess know what she’s doing!?” Nacissa leaned into the open window after Marijke had left. “Are you telling me she’s sleeping with all of your old puppy dog princes? At once?! Madness! This Isekai has no idea what she is doing. I always thought Princess Circe was out of control with her paramours, but at least she had the sense to go for the likes of Stefan, who would never be betrothed anyway. The princes… imagine the scandal if it were discovered! In fact, it has been discovered!”

    It was a little surprising that Nacissa, Circe’s closest friend, had disapproved of her behaviour at all. But then, the Knights Templar swore oaths of chastity during their service, and from what little you had heard, she took even this oath seriously.

    “At least we will not have to worry about bastards,” Nacissa continued, shaking her head. “From what I remember, Lisanne – that's Lady van Woolfen for you – has been handing out a brothel’s worth of silphium, else Princess Circe would have birthed a royal bastard ages ago. The demons might be fine with sleeping around, but a bastard to another nation’s prince…! That is a disaster if I’ve ever heard of one.”

    Pick One:

    [ ]
    This is none of your concern, you are here to hunt isekais, not meddle in private affairs.
    [ ] Consorting with those princes may cause international scandal, it doesn’t matter if Circe is an isekai or not.
    [ ] Princess Circe consorting with foreign princes is concerning, but so long as no bastards come from it, the demons probably won’t be offended by it.
    [ ] You remember something about Silphium from the Appraisal files… “About that…”
    [ ] write-in

    ~~~​

    Yasmijn returned to the classroom, escorting in the second of the students on your list of Circe’s associates. This time a young man, one of the Princess’ alleged paramours, or rather, past paramours. He was of the physical type you knew by now the Princess favoured: tall, well-built, with artfully coiffed dark hair and dark, sharp eyes. His silken white shirt was tight enough that the fabric stretched over the muscles of his chest, his black trousers were likewise fairly tight, and he wore several gold rings with large gemstones.

    “We shall now begin the Investigative Interview,” you said once he’d sat down at the desk in front of you, leaning back in a deliberately careless pose. “Do you swear by the Gods above that your answers and testimony are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?”

    “I do.”

    “What is your name?”

    “Quintijn van Schooten.”

    “Can you please tell us a bit about yourself?”

    “Marquess-in-Waiting of Schooten-Worp, the most desirable bachelor in the Academy of Light, and obviously not an Isekai, and if they say otherwise it’s probably just another attempt at defaming me. Can’t accept I’m just better than them. What else is there to say?”

    “And… who are they?”

    “Whoever it is that got me thrown into this interview before I’ve even been Appraised. Probably low-lives and jealous hanger-ons,” Quintijn said. Probably Stefan, wouldn’t be surprised, you picked up from his unsaid thoughts.

    “Meet Quintijn van Schooten,” you could hear Nacissa think. “Most desirable bachelor in Astem, according to himself.”

    “No one has thrown you into this interview. We are here to simply ask some questions.”

    “Undoubtedly.”

    “Could you please describe to us your relationship with the Second Princess?” you asked.

    “No comment.”



    “No comment?” you repeated.

    “That’s what I said.”

    An awkward pause followed. You could read some of his surface thoughts and emotions, and while his face was one of haughty disinterest and superiority, a mild panic flowed behind it.

    “You understand you are obligated to tell us the truth to the best of your ability, yes?” Averink added.

    “I have,” he responded out loud. What? Do you think I’m just going to talk about laying the Princess? These incompetent Inquisitors… he thought.

    “You have my word that what is said here will not leave this room,” Averink said.

    “Right, and I’m sure you’re just writing down everything I say for your own personal record-keeping,” he said, folding his arms.

    “Ugh,” you could hear Nacissa’s thoughts. “Just tell him you know. Stroke his ego or threaten him, whichever works. Quintijn is basically just Princess Circe with bits between his legs.”

    You supposed it should not be too surprising that an alleged paramour of the Princess was of similar disposition to her.

    “You really do not need to be difficult. Many of your fellow students have already confirmed your… let’s say, theoretical, past relationship with the Second Princess, and we are fully aware that she instigated all of these… hypothetical rendezvous with others. We will not punish you for the Princess’ actions.”

    He sat quietly, still defiant.

    You sighed.

    “You must be quite the gentleman to woo the Princess. I’ve heard she has outrageous standards for men. How did you do it?” you said, actually following Nacissa’s suggestion. You supposed it was because Nacissa had far more experience with dealing with people like this, like the Princess… or herself.

    “It was easy. Like I said, I’m the most desirable bachelor in this Academy. Where cads like Stefan have to resort to consorting with Ishtar, I just am.”

    “So, theoretically, the Princess found you utterly irresistible?”

    “Theoretically,” Quintijn nodded in agreement, a smug smile on his face.

    You saw a faint puff of pink from him as his thoughts moved to the Princess, or rather her body, as he mentally reminisced about his time with her. This in itself was not particularly odd or surprising, until something finally came to you.

    There was something odd about Quintijn’s behaviour, or rather there was something odd because of his lack of odd behaviour.

    Quintijn was not reacting to you in any manner. Haughty demeanour, defiant words, disregard to your station, flashes of lust directed at the Princess, and nothing towards you. It was as if your Attractor had no effect on him at all. Not all men were affected by your Attractor, of course. It seemed to only ensnare “otome targets” of sorts – young, wealthy, handsome, and high-standing men, such as the exact four men that were now ensnared by Princess Circe, in fact.

    Quintijn should meet that criteria, and yet he seemed to be totally immune. Was he secretly broke? You doubted that, considering the gold and jewels he wore and his family's reputation. Perhaps you subconsciously gagged at his over-reliance on sex appeal, in the same manner as toward most Demons, or even humans like Princess Circe? Or maybe he was not interested in the fairer sex… but no, that made little sense either, you just felt his emotions of lust for the Princess moments before. Maybe he was actually much older than he appeared and claimed? Well, now you were just clutching at straws.

    You would normally be pleasantly surprised that your Attractor trait was not twisting the mind of another man against his and your will, but right now, in this circumstance, it was alarming. You could somehow feel that this young man should be affected by your Attractor, as if it was trying to tug at you because it wasn’t working. It compelled you to look closer now at his aura, to try and decipher the inconsistency. And that was when you noticed something else.

    He had an aura of faint pink flare up briefly whenever he glanced at Theodore standing next to you, as if he was sizing your agent up.

    You blinked. What was this? Did him being interested in both sexes make him immune to your Attractor, as little sense as that made? Was this the work of another Otome Attractor? But how? Was this the other one, the one hypothesised by Averink’s rival Viponde, the so-called “Rotten Girl” at work?

    Or maybe you were just overthinking this… perhaps you were just spooked because of the fact that the Princess, a potential Isekai possessee, was coincidentally sleeping with all of the exact same people who were “targets” of your own Otome Attractor, and whom you just discovered could potentially cause an international scandal. There had to be some connection, you just couldn’t see it yet.

    “Wow, what a hunk,” Quintijn thought, now that you were focused on his sizing up Theodore’s demonic guise. “Almost as handsome as me!”

    No. Who were you kidding? If you were right about the Princess being possessed, then there was a good chance she possessed an Attractor. Attractors were rare amongst natives – you were very much the exception, not the rule. This was not the case for Isekais, where the opposite was true. You never remembered Circe possessing anything like your Attractor before. Sure, she was seductive, but she was so through much more mundane means. She didn’t need an Attractor to draw in her paramours, just her charisma… and her “charisma.”

    But then… if Princess Circe had been possessed by an Isekai with an Attractor, who could bend the desires of men at will… was this the explanation? Otome Attractor? The theoretical Rotten Girl? Neither, both?

    What on earth was going on here?

    Regardless, you had questions to ask, and you sitting there in silence on this revelation was starting to draw the attention of the others in the room.


    ~~~​


    You have many questions, but limited time to ask them all, particularly with the others to interview. You can pick 4 ask choices, or end the interview.

    This is a Plan Vote

    [ ] Ask about Circe’s personality and behaviour
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s close relationships [Friends, Paramours, Family]
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s distant relationships [Rivals, Staff, Officials]
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s hobbies, skills and interests.
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s career aspirations or future plans
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s religious beliefs
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on gender and sexuality
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on other races (Demons, Demihumans, Monstrines)
    [ ] Ask about Circe’s views on Isekais
    [ ] Quintijn is unlikely to provide more useful information, end the interview
    [ ] write-in
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, QUESTIONING QUINTIJN II
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Circe – Questioning of Quintijn II


    [x] You remember something about Silphium from the Appraisal files… "About that…"

    [X] Plan You Can't Keep Up The Act 24/7
    -[X] Ask about Circe's close relationships [Friends, Paramours, Family]
    -[X] Ask about Circe's hobbies, skills and interests.
    -[X] Ask about Circe's views on gender and sexuality
    -[X] Ask about Circe's views on other races (Demons, Demihumans, Monstrines)



    ~~~

    “So then, is this what this is about? You just wanted to know about the Second Princess’ entirely theoretical relations?”

    “Something of that sort, yes. We are here to ask you questions about the Princess, not to snoop into your… entirely theoretical private affairs,” you explained.

    “So long as you aren’t accusing me, we’re all good,” Quintijn said. Although he seemed less agitated, his smug smile was still apparent from before. “What do you want to know?”

    “What do you know about the Princess’ close relations?”

    “Like?”

    “The royal family, close friends… any other ‘theoretical’ paramours.”

    At the mention of other paramours, Quintijn’s smug smile faltered for a moment, before returning again. He drummed his fingers against the desk.

    “The royal family, hm. Well, I haven’t exactly got easy access to them, but the Princess had mentioned them at times, but not much. The nature of our purely hypothetical relationship wasn’t really built around long conversations, if you know what I mean.”

    “What did she say, then?”

    “She and her elder sister, the Crown Princess Cicilia, do not get along. She mostly just disparaged her over petty, feminine nonsense, things you would probably know more of than I do.”

    Before you could ask him to clarify regardless of his dismissive summation of “petty feminine nonsense,” he spoke again. “I did not bother to pay attention and have since forgotten what it was she was whining about, but I assure you, she had nothing good to say of her.”

    “Sisterly rivalry is the answer you are looking for. I have met Princess Cicilia before. She looks down on her younger sister. The Crown Princess is as straitlaced and proper as they come. If not for her station, you'd probably be friends,” Nacissa thought with a mental snicker.

    “And the Queen and King-Consort?”

    “She has said nothing of them. At least not to me.”

    “And how long ago was this?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Did she make these comments within the timespan of the last year?”

    Quintijn looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

    “I would like to point out, I was only hypothetically involved with the Princess in the past. Hypothetically, I chose to part ways with her.”

    “He was dumped,” Nacissa supplied matter-of-factly.

    “Was this before or after the month of Seroen of last year?” you asked, this being the month when… The Incident occurred between Mechtelt and Princess Circe.

    “Before, I parted with her early in the year, around Janus. She came crawling back for me, though.”

    You raised your eyebrow. Nacissa stifled a snort, which was luckily quiet enough that Quintijn did not notice it.

    “She couldn’t get enough of me, so I gave her a second chance. While we remained separated, she would visit and beg me… around till about late Seroen, odd you would mention that. After that, she – I mean, I, decided to end things for good. We have not been together since, though I would consider giving her a third try.”

    So, the Princess had separated herself from Quintijn along with all of her previous friends.

    “And as for other… hypothetical paramours?”

    “Oh you mean Stefan von Kürschner? Figured she’d rebound with him right away. He’s basically a discount version of me,” he said. You noticed another flash of bright pink in his aura when Stefan was mentioned, and a vague image of him in his thoughts, surrounded by…roses? “Anyway, Kürschner is a fake. He couldn’t satisfy the Princess, so he found religion. He’s only with the Princess now because Ishtar pitied him. He doesn’t even have any demonic heritage, by the Gods.”

    “And the others? Prince Ludomir, Prince Pierre, Kasper?”

    “Cannot rightly explain them,” he said, shrugging. “Stefan, sure, but them? I have no idea what she sees in any of them, honestly. Kasper is an officious puritan, Ludomir’s a centaur, Pierre’s a Tourish dandy. I was quite sure she found all three of them either too lacklustre for her royal highness, or, again, Ludomir is an honest-to-Gods centaur.”

    You nodded, as he was repeating similar statements from your previous interviews, that it was unusual for Princess Circe to be with these three young men.

    You were about to change the line of questioning when Quintijn spoke up again.

    “But what’s truly bizarre is I was under the impression that those three were uninterested, even incorruptible.”

    “Incorruptible?”

    “More likely to compose a sappy ballad for a lady than roll in the hay.”

    “I was under the impression that the Second Princess was quite talented in making such young men interested?”

    “Sure, she can heave around some of the biggest cleavage in the Academy, make a pretty face and wink… but those three were not available or interested, certainly not the damn wannabe priest. They wanted pretty innocent maidens, ‘wholesome’ and chaste, you know, the exact opposite of Her Highness. I guess I underestimated the Princess. She can get even those who hate her into her bed.”

    “Oh, but I do so remember that there was a certain petite peasant saintess that they chased after, that matched that description exactly… I wonder what happened to her,” Nacissa thought, her open stream of thoughts providing images of you in various states of undress surrounded by them. These were not memories of course, but figments of imagination. Even now, the Templar needed to provoke you.

    With everything you heard of those four discussed, you became even more convinced that the Princess must have some form of Otome Attractor, just like you... though this still did not explain Quintijn’s unique reaction to you, or his reaction to Theodore or Stefan.

    Perhaps you were mistaken, then, and there was another explanation?

    “What would you say are the Princess' hobbies?” you asked, eager to change the subject. “What did she enjoy doing in her free time?”

    “When I knew her, mostly eating and rutting.”

    “Other… other than that, please.”

    “No idea.”

    “...Then did you notice any difference in her interests?”

    “Not really,” Quintijn said with another shrug. “She seems to be just as interested in those things as before.” You supposed the rutting made up most of their hypothetical activities together, and their chief common interest. “The Princess was never interested in anything that requires real work, anyway.”

    You sighed. “So, about the… rutting. What were Princess Circe’s thoughts and attitudes on relationships, coupling, and the surrounding customs?”

    “She certainly thought the demons had it right,” Quintijn said.

    “Yes, I have heard that she has a deep fascination with the Demon Empire.”

    “An understatement. She’s a better demon than some demons I’ve known. No wonder the Queen married her off to the Black Prince. She’s in for a bit of a nasty surprise once she gets there – he certainly won’t let her take her little reverse harem with her.”

    “I thought the demons were in favour of Harems?”

    “They are, but only for the one in charge. They don’t care if it's a man or woman up top, but the others are part of the harem, and it’s one way only. Of what I know of the Black Prince, the Princess certainly won’t be the one in charge.”

    Could that be why she feared demons now? She discovered that she wouldn’t be able to – as Quintijn had so crudely put it – rut with any handsome man who caught her eye? You didn’t think that entirely explained it. The sheer terror her aura reflected when she had seen Theodore hinted at something more.

    “And what’s more, she’ll be expected to squirt out an heir and a spare instead of taking a boatload of silphium. Don’t suppose she’d like that too much, either. Funny that her patron deity is Ishtar – who’s all about being fruitful and fertile.”

    Here, you were uncertain. Marijke had told you the opposite – that Circe was eager to be with the demon prince, however it was also true that her past Appraisal indicated she had ingested silphium. Nacissa had all but confirmed it, and you would certainly be asking her to elaborate.

    “Fruitful and fertile?” you repeated. In the Central Kingdoms, even after the Thaw, Ishtar was associated by most people with hedonism and the pleasures of the flesh – which you supposed drew Circe to her worship in the first place.

    Quintijn rolled his eyes. “Of course. Ishtar isn’t just a Goddess of Sex, you know. Her full repertoire also includes pleasure, beauty, and most of all, fertility. You know what the demons do to men who rut with one another, correct?”

    “I have become aware of this, yes.”

    “Well, Circe mentioned some Templar Knight she met once, who favoured the company of men. She said that in her opinion, he should have been dealt with the way the Demon Empire deals with such men.”

    You could see a flash of anger and indignation from Nacissa, but this time she had closed her thoughts to you. This was clearly not something she would explain.

    “Have her views changed in relation to… such couplings, in the past year?”

    “Not that I know of. She seems to be just as interested in surrounding herself with men as before. Sure, the men she has around her now are hardly the macho type, especially Pierre, but she wouldn’t share them with other men. I cannot see the Princess being anywhere near something of that sort.”

    This… was confusing. You were under the impression that Quintijn’s strange response to your Attractor was because of the Princess. Still, you continued with your questions.

    “And what of other customs? For example, what did the Princess think about the proper role and duties of a young lady?”

    Quintijn scoffed. “She can host a dinner party and soiree well enough, as long as all the attention is on herself, but she’s hardly the type to be a gracious homemaker. You’re more likely to find those Princes doing those kinds of tasks than her.”

    “I have heard from others that she conformed to traditions and was eager to fulfil her responsibilities as a woman,” you said, remembering Marijke’s statements.

    “Princess Circe doesn't know the meaning of the word responsibility,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You really think she's the type to take interest in the upbringing of children, or manage her lands and household? She's spent her entire life trying to avoid that.”

    You certainly couldn't argue with that, from what you had seen and heard.

    “Whoever that person was, they probably just meant the Princess is eager to get married off and go to a cushy palace in the Demon Empire where all she has to do is spawn more demons.”

    Speaking of such…

    “Earlier, you mentioned silphium. How are you aware that the Princess is taking it?” you asked.

    “I don’t for certain, but you'd be a fool to think otherwise, considering how often she would need it.”

    “Would you know for any reason why she would stop taking it?” you asked, trying to figure out something you had recently remembered — that her recent Appraisal showed no signs of silphium ingestion.

    “Either what’s left of her brain has slipped out of her ears or wherever she’s getting it from has dried up. Can’t say either makes any sense though. The former is insane, even for her, as even she must know getting pregnant now would destroy her betrothal… and I mean, she’s a Princess, and one who’s been doing this for some time, I seriously doubt she would just ‘run out’ of the stuff, even if she never had much of a brain in the first place.”

    “Thank you for your answers. Next, I would like to ask about her views of other races. The Princess’ attitude towards demons is clear,” you said. “But what of the other races of the world?”

    Once again, Quintijn gave a dismissive shrug. “Again, I wasn’t very interested in her opinions, thoughts, or discussions.” He drummed his fingers on the desk again. “But it’s strange that she picked Ludomir of all creatures. I mostly tuned out what she said, but I vaguely recall her mocking van Woolfen and van Luttefmont-Furholjan for their love of the demihumans.”

    “When the Princess found out that Lady Lisanne loved Ludomir, she told me that Lisanne may as well go to the stables and rut with one of the horses there instead, if that was what she liked,” Nacissa thought. This, too, corroborated previous interviews.

    “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?” you asked. From what you could tell, you didn’t think he had much else in information to provide.

    “No. And if I lived another hundred years before dealing with the Inquisition again, it would be too soon.” He was haughty as ever in his voice and gestures, but you could see a faint image in his thoughts – a young girl with dark hair and eyes. You guessed this must be the daughter of Marquess van Schooten whom Averink had mentioned when you had first met him. The one who had been possessed by an Isekai, and Quintijn's younger sister.

    “Then you are dismissed, with my thanks for your cooperation,” you said. “This concludes the interview with Quintijn van Schooten.”



    ~~~​



    Once more, Nacissa leaned into the open window after Quintijn had left.

    “About what you told me earlier,” you said. “When we Appraised the Princess, her file did not show any signs of ingesting silphium. She has stopped at some point between her last Appraisal and today.”

    Nacissa blinked, for once utterly dumbfounded. “...Well, your Appraiser must be incompetent, then! Even this Imposter Princess Isekai must know the shame that a royal bastard would bring upon her and the whole Kingdom! And the alliance with the demons…!”

    “Lotte Eikehouten came highly recommended,” you said. “Even though she is still an apprentice, I trust her.”

    “You always did trust too much, that's the problem,” Nacissa grumbled. “It certainly made it so easy for me to trick you into running across the Academy to find Circe's ‘breastplate stretcher’...” she thought, clearly relishing the memory of you frantically searching for a fictional tool. “Have you not performed a Greater Appraisal?”

    “I haven’t, but I was considering doing so in the Princess’ interview.” The idea had been on your mind ever since your speculation that Princess Circe possessed Attractor traits.

    “What if she just stopped taking it?”

    You and Nacissa both turned to Theodore, who was looking at you both questioningly.

    “Because then she would be with bastards already, obviously,” Nacissa replied. “Haven’t you been listening?”

    “I have, but I think you’re jumping the gun. There could be heaps of reasons why it didn’t appear. Maybe the Isekai doesn’t know she needs to take silphium? Maybe she ran out? Hell, she might not even be sleeping with her harem – this is, after all, not actually the Princess.”

    “There is also the possibility she is doing it on purpose,” Yasmijn added.

    “That doesn’t even make any sense! Why would she deliberately get pregnant with a bastard? It will destroy her!” Nacissa retorted.

    “Maybe she wants a child and isn’t thinking of the consequences, or maybe she wants to break the betrothal and knows that bearing a bastard will do it. Isekais are more devious and conniving than they are often given credit.”

    “Her Intelligence stat says otherwise.”

    “And yet someone is helping her avoid being caught, going off what we’ve seen. Who’s to say this isn’t some Yankeevine plot? They would benefit most from the Demon Empire breaking their alliance with Astem, and this way they don’t even need to assassinate the Princess. Also, there was that ambassador, right?”

    “It does sound like something Yankeevine Intelligence would cook up…” Theodore said, nodding pensively. You felt the slightest aura of fear from him.

    Alizea spoke up. “It certainly makes sense, and they have the motive… but this is all mere conspiracy. Also, I don’t think it makes much sense that the Yankeevine Ambassador would come to the school if they had your Second Princess as an operative. Wouldn’t that just be drawing more attention to something you want to keep hidden?”

    “At any rate, we must question Circe’s other associates,” you said.

    “Do you honestly think they’ll provide anything that we don’t already know?” Nacissa scoffed. “Enough of this. We know all that we need to know. Exorcise her already. What else are you Inquisitors good for? If I were acting as a Templar Knight, I would simply –”

    “Lady Corporal, I know the Princess was your friend,” you said, “but I need hardly remind you that she is still the Princess, and I am still a commoner adjutant. We have to build an ironclad case against her. If I were to attempt to exorcise her now, we would all die, and likely be declared traitors posthumously.”

    “Even with this evidence,” Alizea added. “Personality and skill changes might be obvious to you, but the Inquisition is a bureaucracy… When they get the evidence, it will take a long time for them to act on it, and there will be those who resist or doubt it. Even after it was obvious I was possessed, running around as a bandit and pirate, there were a good number of people who said I was not possessed.”

    “I did not join this mission to dawdle while this Isekai brings dishonour upon our Princess and our Kingdom!” Nacissa shouted, already hoisting herself through the window with a speed and agility unexpected from such a voluptuous figure. “Igor, my rapier! I shall show the little saintess and her feckless bandit how we Templars deal with Isekai!”

    “Feckless?!” Alizea put her hand on her own rapier, ready to draw if Nacissa escalated the situation further.

    Faster than you would have thought yourself capable, you jumped between the two ladies before a full-blown duel – or worse – broke out in the classroom.

    “Stop!” you yelled. “By the Gods, can we not cooperate for one day? This is an investigation, not a battlefield! Our enemy is the Isekai, not each other!”

    The Guard slammed the door open, his attention drawn by the shouting. “Stop right there, criminal scum! Unhand the Inquisitor!”

    “Everything is quite alright,” you said. “Just some… lively debate, Mr Guard.”

    The Guard stood there, silently, for a short while. A translucent circle magically floated above his head, rotating in the air.

    “Carry on, civilians, but keep watch – Isekais must surely lurk these halls,” he said, shutting the door again.

    You sighed in relief. Like a spring storm, the argument was over as quickly as it had come. “Let us conclude the interviews and get to the bottom of this. Summon the Princess’ maid and sworn knight.”

    “And the noble paramours?” Nacissa asked, her eyebrow raised. “I highly doubt they will be impartial in your presence.”


    [ ] I’m sure an investigational interview with them will not be unduly affected by my presence.
    [ ] You’re right. Perhaps I should observe while another agent conducts the interview.
    [ ] We should interview them once in my presence, and once without, and compare their responses. However, while this will be more thorough, it will take more time.
    [ ] write-in
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, QUESTION KNIGHTS, MAIDS AND NOBLES
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Investigate Circe – The Knights, the Maid, and the Nobles

    [x] You’re right. Perhaps I should observe while another agent conducts the interview.


    ~~~​


    In the end, you decided it would be best for you to keep your distance when interviewing those of Circe’s paramours whom you knew could be affected by your Attractor trait, and thus meddle in the accuracy of the interviews. Your agents would handle the interview alongside Averink… while you observed alongside… Nacissa.

    However, the next batch of interviews had not been these paramours, rather, but the collection of guards.

    The guards had filtered into the classroom in an orderly fashion, standing rather than sitting. You moved through the process of introducing yourself, themselves, and their relationship to the Princess, obviously, being her personal guards. They were stiff but disciplined, and you could see no fear within them, as they answered your questions.

    It went… as expected.

    None of them had any knowledge of or suspected any changes in Princess Circe. They had all been selected after the events of the incident last year. When asked to describe the Princess, they provided rehearsed answers as Rosemarijn did, but of those who did reveal their personal thoughts, they referred to her as free-spirited, easily excitable and without censor or restraint, someone difficult to pin down, but overall a kind and compassionate young lady. Their auras were of happiness as they said this, so you doubted they were lying.

    “Can you tell us of the guard who was formerly sworn shield to the Second Princess? Who was he and what happened to him?” you had asked one of the knights.

    They looked at one another, and then, reluctantly, they talked. And so you acquired a name.

    Sir Lindert de Wijlen.

    The reason for Sir de Wijlen’s removal was not clear to the guards who would replace him, but they had said that his removal was on the Princess’ orders, so they could only assume that he had failed or dishonoured her in some manner. When asked where he was, they said they did not know, but suggested the northern border forts owned by the Templars. After all, many disgraced knights ended up there, seeking their redemptions by fighting off Isekai adventurers and smugglers crossing the Yankeevine border to cause trouble in Astem.

    You had heard from others that Princess Circe had a tendency of getting young men who she didn’t like or offended her in some way sent to the Templar forts. Marijke had also implied that the Princess romantically pursued her guards as well when she still knew her, suggesting Sir de Wijlen may have also been a former paramour of hers. This all could have meant his removal had been merely a coincidence…

    …If Sir de Wijlen’s removal had not occurred in late Seroen last year.

    The same month of Seroen that seemed to appear again and again when concerning the Princess.

    Other than the identity of this former knight, the guards seemed sincere in how little they knew. You even interviewed the Princess’ own NPC Guard, who had started by asking you if you had heard of the High Elves. Not much else was provided.


    ~~~​


    With the Guards interviewed, you moved on to the maids… or, rather, maid.

    The interview with the one maid who had remained at the Academy with the Princess had been similarly disappointing. A bubbly young girl with long dark hair named Amity, she too had been hired after the Incident, in early Octobrin. She echoed the guards’ description of Circe as a kind, compassionate, and charming Princess.

    It supplied more questions than answers. Those who only knew of the Princess after the incident described her as the sort of person who was kind to everyone regardless of station and always happy. Why? Was the Isekai trying to somehow avoid detection by masquerading as… such an upbeat person? It didn’t make much sense to you, as surely trying to conform to her past behaviour to go undetected would be more logical…

    Isekais usually possessed most of the memories of their host, which is why Mental Dives against them were not, of themselves, a guaranteed way to detect an Isekai. Maybe she lacked that knowledge? Maybe she was just that dumb?

    Or… maybe she was just that nice? No. You shook your head. It was best not to think such things, not in this profession. Isekais were never simply nice.

    “Why did Circe send the other maids away before the Appraisal?” you’d asked.

    Amity had shrugged. “She’d said she wanted some privacy.”

    “What do you think she meant by that?”

    “Well… I think she didn’t want the maids to gossip about what she did with boys.”

    “Is that all?”

    “Well, I don’t really know, but that’s what I think was why…”

    “Then why were you left behind?”

    She laughed nervously at that. You searched her aura for any signs of fear, however it seemed her response was more from confusion, even shyness, than fear.

    “I don’t really know, I was just told by the Princess’ head maid, Miss Verity, that I would be left behind to keep the Princess’ things in order. Maybe because I am a novice? I honestly cannot say. I am truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

    You searched for hidden emotions, surface thoughts contrary to her statements, anything that would suggest deceit… but all you got was what seemed to be mild confusion. This maid, Amity, only gave you her earnest sincerity.


    ~~~​


    Once again, you found yourself crouching in the dirt during a case, this time in a well-watered, thorny flower bed at night. It was already enough for you to pray that this interview was going to be worth listening in on, and that was before Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan started pushing her bosom into your face.

    “How am I supposed to listen in if you are hogging all the space, Visser?” Nacissa hissed at you. Fortunately the interviewees had not yet passed through the door, or Nacissa’s loud whisper could have been overheard.

    “Hogging? You're bigger than I am!” you hissed back, something that would have probably started a fight in another circumstance, but here simply caused Nacissa to go still in silent fury, likely thinking of how she could insult you some more.

    At least you could breathe again.

    Outside the window stood not just Nacissa and yourself, but Igor as well, who seemed to be suppressing shivers after giving Nacissa his jacket. You had not spoken all that much with the demihuman butler, but you tried to smile apologetically to him. He did not seem impressed by you.

    As Yasmijn escorted the first of Circe’s new paramours into the classroom, you hoped that these interviews would be more productive.

    “Grubbing about in the dirt, are you?” Nacissa said, literally looking down at you. “Just as expected from peasant stock. It just proves that while you can take a girl from the –”

    You shushed her, hearing the classroom door open and footsteps. The interview was beginning. Even Nacissa broke off to listen in.

    “We shall now begin the Investigative Interview,” you could hear Averink say from inside the classroom. “Do you swear by the Gods above that your answers and testimony are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?”

    “I swear it,” replied three voices at once.

    “What are your names?”

    “Pierre-Antoine Clovis Jean du Valois,” said the confident, clear voice of the Tourish prince you remembered.

    “Ludomir Dąbrowski, son of Stannisław,” joined Prince Ludomir’s soft melodic voice.

    “Kasper de Haarten,” Kasper finally added, with his characteristic dry inflection.

    From outside, you peeked into the window ever so slightly, so as to observe the interview and the auras around the three boys. There were auras of worry and anxiety about them, but from the surface thoughts you could siphon from them at this distance, it seemed they were more worried about the secrecy of their relations than anything concerning isekais. At the very least none of them showed the tell-tale signs of infatuation towards you, so it seemed that it was enough for you to be out of sight – and out of mind.

    The three boys themselves were much as you remembered them since your graduation from the Academy of Light.

    Prince Pierre still had his messy spikes of blonde hair, and his striking blue eyes still declared his boyish bravado. He had grown a little taller, although still only above average in height rather than towering like Stefan or Quintijn. He had a kind of self-contained, rugged confidence to him, as if he were an adventurer dressed in the trappings of a Prince Charming – you knew he was athletic and a martial boy in nature, an expert swordsman, a puissant knight, a warrior prince in the making who had already slain monsters and gained numerous levels. He would not inherit the Crown of Lilies, but he would surely do it proud.

    To be honest, if you did not know that Princess Circe’s definition of masculinity involved towering demon-like men who rippled with bulges both muscular and otherwise, you would have thought her blind for calling Pierre “effeminate.”

    Prince Ludomir, on the other hand, was quite different. While he was by far the tallest person in the room, his champagne-coloured centaur half lifting him above even Theodore’s façade of a demon, he was incredibly youthful, yes, even effeminate, in both features and demeanour. He had large, warm brown eyes, long wavy locks of sandy hair both on his head and in his tail, and a delicate build in both his human and equine halves. Where Pierre and Stefan were handsome, Ludomir was pretty.

    It was because of this that it was no surprise to you that Ludomir was popular with some noblewomen of the Academy, even with him being a centaur. Even more, he was unclaimed, as he was the third prince of an elective monarchy that took pride in their democracy, unique amongst the Central Kingdoms. While not nearly as rakish as Stefan, Ludomir was an incurable romantic and could pursue these relationships with relative ease… when not obsessing over girls with Attractor traits, like yourself.

    Finally, there was Kasper. His presence as a paramour of Princess Circe was by far the most questionable. When you looked at the tall and lanky boy and then to Averink, you could easily see a certain resemblance between them. Stern yet inquisitive, when not warped by Attractor traits, he would often express strong convictions and morals, and did his best to distance himself from the carnality of the Academy, instead preferring intellectual and theological pursuits. You recalled reading a paper he had written for your Theology class, and had been much impressed. Although no Inquisitor at heart, he would make a fine scholar, or even Isekai Studies researcher, someday.

    Of all the boys who had been affected by your Attractor Trait, he and Pierre were the ones who always made you feel the greatest guilt. Kasper, because you had twisted his heart against his own beliefs and ideals, and Pierre, whose fidelity to his betrothed had been corrupted not through his own faithlessness but through the workings of unwanted magic. At least with Stefan and Ludomir, they already sought passion and carnality before you ever came along.

    It was this guilt that, even without the other things you had witnessed, which drove you to believe that these boys were once again being ensnared by an Attractor Trait – one that you were certain that Princess Circe did not possess prior to your graduation.

    “Could you please explain to me your relationship with the Second Princess?” Averink asked the three, getting straight to the point.

    “Huh, so that’s what this is about. In that case, I’m surprised the Wachstaat Rooster isn’t here as well,” Pierre replied.

    “Probably off ploughing some girl in the hopes Ishtar will give him another boon,” Ludomir said. You could see a brief flash of red from his aura. Personal rivalry aside, it was to be expected. Neu-Alaynians bore no love for Wachstaatians, considering the two countries had been at war on and off over the city of Danzeria for as long as you could remember.

    You heard Averink sigh. “Please answer the question.”

    “The Second Princess and I share interest in the blade. Her previous trainer disappeared, so she asked me if I could give her… private exercises, which I of course agreed to,” Pierre answered.

    “Riding lessons,” Ludomir said. “After all, a noble lady is expected to know how to ride properly.”

    “Private tutoring – she wished to have a better grasp of her Patron Deity,” Kasper simply said.

    Auras of bright pink surrounded all three of them, auras that appeared with unnatural strength and immediacy… just as they once did to you, except here they did not even need to see Princess Circe for the auras to appear.

    “Of course they’re not going to admit to it in so many words,” Nacissa thought at you. “Their own honour aside, none of them wish to become another Joren de Lievens.”

    “And that is all?” Averink insisted, looking at them from above his spectacles.

    Pierre and Kasper immediately affirmed the strict professionalism of their relationships with the Second Princess, despite their auras obviously saying otherwise to you.

    “Well, one thing led to another…” Ludomir mumbled meekly, covering his face with his hands.

    A loud sigh from Kasper, followed by Pierre groaning.

    “By the gods, Ludomir is no better than Stefan…” were their thoughts, from both of them.

    “I must remind you that you have sworn a solemn oath to the Gods to provide truthful testimony, and I have the feeling you are concealing the full truth of the matter,” Averink said. His exasperation was clear – he was a scholar, not an interrogator.

    “Well… I mean, the Second Princess is destined for a Demon Prince, right? They have no qualms with, ahem, courtship prior to anything official… and I am also unclaimed and unlikely to inherit, so surely no harm was done…?”

    Prince Pierre and Kasper looked at each other, but remained silent.

    “If it is of any consolation, we are not here to judge or condemn any relationship, we simply wish to ask questions about the Second Princess herself,” you heard Alizea say.

    Ludomir nodded, his relief clear, however the other two continued to be stone-faced. They did not confirm or deny anything, but they did nod.

    “We can tell you about the Princess if you wish,” Kasper said, reluctantly.


    ~~~​


    You have instructed Averink to ask the following questions, focusing on primarily two topics , or to end the interview.

    Pick two topics for the questioning to focus on.

    [ ]
    You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning their and Circe’s sudden change of view of each other.
    [ ] You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning Circe’s use of silphium.
    [ ] You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning unnatural attraction and unusual behaviour of other boys in the Academy.
    [ ] You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning Circe’s change in her views on race and religion.
    [ ] You told Averink that the Otome Paramours were unlikely to give you useful information, and to end the interview quickly.
    [ ] Write-in
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, QUESTIONING OTOME PARAMOURS
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Questioning of the Otome Paramours

    [x] You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning their and Circe's sudden change of view of each other.
    [x] You instructed Averink to focus on questions concerning Circe's use of silphium.



    ~~~​


    “Very well. Could you please explain how it is that you are now all in some sort of relationship with the Second Princess… professional or, ahem, otherwise?” Averink said, glancing at the blushing centaur prince. “I have been reliably informed that the three of you were not particularly close to the Second Princess before late last year, and may have even spoken of her with less than approving views. Why so sudden a change?”

    “It was from getting to know the Second Princess better,” Pierre spoke slowly, as if to think over his own words. “I used to hate her, I admit it, but that was before I knew who she really was. She is just … misunderstood.”

    You could see Averink blink in surprise.

    “The Princess is no Villainess,” Pierre continued. “Not really. She is just a lonely girl who was unable to express her true feelings, so said harsh things instead.”

    You could see a bright pink aura from Pierre as he said this. By the Gods, you could almost see a halo of flowers, sparkles, and sunshine around him. The other two nodded along, their own auras the same.

    “The Princess used to feud often with another girl who used to attend this school,” Kasper said, just as carefully. “She had to hide her true self to appear strong and not allow her insulting words to get to her. Being judged as harsh and mean by only her appearance left her insecure.”

    “And she is, after all, the Princess of the realm,” Pierre added. “She has an image to maintain. She cannot appear weak in front of her enemies, else they shall surely take advantage, and she cannot appear as one of the common people, else they shall surely take liberties. I assure you she wishes that this were not so.”

    “I also think… I think she is haunted by the troubles of her past, and this made her act out,” Ludomir offered. “Deep down, once you get to know her, she really is a compassionate lady with a kind heart, who was hurt by those whom she trusted.”

    “Those she trusted? Whom?”

    “Perhaps her sister, or her parents, or her former friends. Her betrothed often cheats on her. He is a demon, after all. Oh, if only our parents had agreed for us to be pledged to one another! I would have treated her as she deserves,” Ludomir sighed.

    Pierre scoffed. “A royal betrothal needs more than fidelity. But what would you centaurs know of that? You change your Kings more than I change my horse’s shoes.”

    “As if you could speak of fidelity,” Ludomir whispered back, Pierre sneering silently in turn. “For all your vaunted Tourish chivalry, I seem to recall –”

    “Stop bickering, you fools, we are being interviewed by the Inquisition,” Kasper reprimanded them. “And Stefan isn’t even here…”

    At that, Averink finally spoke up. “And does the Baron agree with you three?”

    “Yes.”

    “Yes.”

    “Absolutely not.”

    The other two boys looked over at the dissenting centaur.

    “What? It is obvious that he only cares about enjoying her body. He probably hasn’t even realised she is putting up a façade to hide her true feelings. He’s Wachstaatian – they care nothing for emotions or romance, only war,” Ludomir said.

    While the Otome Attractor could distort a man’s mind towards the bearer of the attractor, it could not change the man’s view of anyone else, not by its influence alone.

    “So, just to confirm: you claim that the Second Princess is merely… misunderstood?”

    “That’s correct,” Ludomir said. The other two nodded in agreement.

    You and Nacissa looked at each other for a long moment. Your thoughts were the same.

    “What.”

    Even Averink seemed nonplussed. “From what I have heard from other students and teachers, the Second Princess is a spoilt bully.”

    “As far as that claim is true, she was likely pressured into behaving in such a way by that horrid Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan. She was always a viper.”

    Once again, you and Nacissa looked at each other, eyes wide in shock, to make sure that you really had heard what you’d just heard. The paramours’ statements were becoming increasingly absurd, but this?

    “I - I was - peer pressure? Really?” Nacissa thought, still trying to grasp what she’d just overheard.

    “And her views on demihumans and monstrines?”

    “Again, I lay the blame for that upon Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan.”

    At that, rather than Averink, you could hear Yasmijn… laughing.

    “I’m sorry, but… are we speaking of the same Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan? The one with the Demihuman butler? Whose own sister gave up her title to marry a demihuman and whose entire family lusts after my people? That Luttefmont-Furholjan?”

    “It would not be the first time someone spread hatred of someone they secretly lusted after, so as to keep them to themselves,” Pierre smoothly replied. “She probably just wanted Ludomir to herself.”

    “As if I would ever court that blonde harpy. Unlike some people, I have standards.”

    “I concur, only a fiend like Stefan could see anything in her,” said Kasper.

    “Have you seen how she wears that skin-tight duelling leotard, whether she’s in that stupid Siege Armour suit or not? Completely indecent – unlike the tasteful bustier of the Second Princess.”

    “Perfection.”

    Telepathic images of the Princess in her “tasteful” bustier of course followed as you read the thoughts of the noble paramours, until a red hot aura of rage suddenly washed over them. You knew Lady Nacissa had a temper, and had been concerned she would suddenly stand up and start shouting at the princes besmirching her name, or even climb through the window to demand an apology or a duel, but it seemed Igor had already foreseen this eventuality, and was holding her back, one hand covering her mouth. She struggled and kicked, and you were afraid that everyone could hear the muffled and indignant sounds she made.

    “Thank you, we need not elaborate any further on the subject of the Princess’ bustier,” Averink snapped. “Now please, back to the subject of this interview.”

    “Right, of course. But yes, the Princess looked down on my people only because she felt she had to, so as to be taken seriously by her friends. After all, that was what they themselves thought about us,” Ludomir replied.

    “And her religious views? I suppose they were all a misunderstanding or some façade too?” Averink said, his disbelief only growing more evident in the sarcasm of his words.

    “A misunderstanding, but on her part,” Kasper explained, ignoring Averink’s tone. “She did not fully grasp the doctrines of Ishtar. The Second Princess, forgive my impropriety, has never been one for serious study or reading. She… well, as far as I could tell, she seemed to have mistaken Ishtar for Amoroa, apparently unaware that the latter has been deceased for nearly a century.”

    He paused, clearly thinking about whether he should add to this statement. “She… no, never mind. That is all.”

    You tried to pick up whatever it was that Kasper thought at that moment, though it was slipping away quickly, as he himself disregarded it.

    “She seemed to not understand Ishtar’s views on… what did Circe call it… Homo… Hobophone? Holo…???” Kasper’s confused thoughts disappeared again, like mists on the wind.

    Averink raised an eyebrow, but did not investigate further on the question of religion, and instead moved on to the next primary subject, the one which you had instructed him to focus on.

    “I would now like to ask you about the Princess’ use of silphium. Have you ever seen the Princess procure or use this herb?”

    You were not naïve, so you had a good idea how this would go… but these three, plus Stefan, were among the few people who could actually tell you anything about it.

    “Silphium? The demon herb? I would hardly be able to tell you. It isn’t as though sword practice involves it.”

    “Of course,” Averink said flatly. He turned to Kasper.

    “Or lessons on theology.”

    From reading their emotions, the one observation you could make was that neither Pierre nor Kasper were surprised by the mention of silphium. This at least gave you confidence that they knew about it, even if they were not willing to say so.

    Averink finally turned to Ludomir. His nervousness was obvious, since he couldn’t avoid the question like the other two, with what he had said earlier. The centaur prince’s face went pale.

    “I have never observed her taking it myself… but she must be, right?”

    “Has she ever mentioned using it… to you?”

    “Well, uh, no. She did once mention having bought it, though?”

    Buying silphium and ingesting silphium are two very different things,” Averink pointed out.

    “Well… she must be taking it, right? She still has the stuff… and I mean, we’re still, you know.”

    And there it was, out of the horse’s mouth, so to speak. A confirmation of your and Nacissa’s worst fears, and now Averink’s too. You felt the dawning horror in his aura as he realised exactly what was at stake. The Second Princess most likely had access to silphium and was partaking in… certain activities…

    …yet the ingestion of silphium did not appear in her Appraisal.

    You could only hope that the Appraisal was incomplete, or this meant that this situation could turn dire indeed. Not only could a royal bastard appear, if not already in the making… but the bastard of a centaur – a Neu-Alaynian centaur whose father may not even be King five years from now.

    Even if Averink realised what you and Nacissa had, he showed no outward sign of it, and continued as planned.

    “I have a final question to ask you. Have you noticed any strange behaviour from your peers? Fellow male students in particular?”

    “Define ‘strange behaviour,’ otherwise I can provide many examples,” Kasper replied. “This Academy is filled with a lot of… characters.”

    “Sudden change in relationships, friend groups… ahem, preference. Particularly near or around the Second Princess?”

    “Well, I mean, the Princess jettisoned a whole lot of her old ‘friends,’ if you could call them that,” Pierre said.

    “They were mostly hanger-ons anyway and, how did the Princess refer to them? ‘Toxic influences’? A good term if any, I’d say. They were toxic to her wellbeing,” Kasper said.

    “Particularly Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan. Ever since she stopped having her around, Circe has gotten better with her laughter. It's bearable now, but by the gods, it’d break glass before,” Ludomir added, shaking his head.

    You felt the aura of anger again, expecting it to come from Nacissa… but instead found it from Igor. Apparently the paramours mocking the laughter of his lady and the Princess offended him. Why that, and nothing else, was beyond your understanding.

    “Now that I think about it…” Pierre spoke, looking out the window in thought. “I do remember something of the sorts you are talking about.”

    “That being?” Averink asked.

    Pierre turned to Ludomir and Kasper. “Do the two of you remember Quintijn’s antics after the Princess finally rid herself of him?”

    “Whining up a fit, you mean? How is that unusual for him?” Kasper responded, rolling his eyes.

    “No, no. I mean… I remember him acting quite queer around Stefan, and Stefan himself mentioned it to me once. The two of them were close friends once, then bitter rivals… and then, I cannot say. Quintijn never acted like that before. Stefan didn’t think so, so… does that account for strange behaviour?”

    “I prefer to ignore everything about Stefan, so I can’t say I noticed,” Ludomir replied.

    Kasper simply shrugged.

    It wasn’t particularly helpful, but it did shed some light on what you had witnessed in Quintijn’s interview. Further, if Pierre was correct, Stefan himself had brought it up, and talked about how strange it was. You mentally noted that you should ask him about it in your interview.

    “I see,” Averink said. “Do any of you have anything else to add?”

    Silence followed, with only the shaking of heads in answer.

    “In that case, you are free to leave, with my gratitude for your cooperation,” Averink said. “This concludes the Inquisitorial interview with Pierre-Antoine du Valois, Ludomir Dąbrowski, and Kasper de Haarten.”


    ~~~​


    “How dare they!?” Nacissa screamed once they had left. “How dare they speak of me in such a low manner! Especially the centaur! If not for our Templar Knights and volunteer levies, his whole country would be speaking Wachstaatian!”

    “Absolutely disgusting, milady,” Igor agreed, nodding. “If not for the valiant Templars, their tanks would surely be rolling through Valašlová as we speak!”

    “In any other circumstance, I’d have him defend his slander with his sword and make him eat those words!”

    “You would surely win, of course.”

    After brushing the dirt from your clothing, you went back inside the classroom to discuss your discoveries with your agents and Averink.

    Nacissa’s outburst and Igor’s talent for shameless sycophancy aside, you and your agents now had to discuss a far more important matter: the impending interview of Princess Circe de Meer herself.

    “We will have to force her to accept a second Appraisal,” Averink said, to the soft groan of Appraiser Lotte, who had returned to the classroom in preparation for the Second Princess’ arrival.

    “It won’t be easy. The Education Minister will likely be with her and will surely protest,” you replied.

    “Why can’t we just, you know, ignore him?” Theo asked, shrugging. “I thought even your government was ruled by the Church.”

    “We could,” you answered. “But doing so without a good reason or excuse will probably just be grounds for him to claim Inquisitorial malpractice or bias later on. Despite how it appears, Inquisitors do answer to others than the Gods.”

    Averink nodded. “And there is also your own Attractor Trait. I cannot say for sure, but he is probably aware of it. The Education Ministry has a registry of students who have such traits.”

    You nodded back. You hoped that the Education Minister would understand the importance of tracking if the Second Princess had an Attractor Trait, but you did not know if the Education Minister would agree.

    Attractor Traits always had a murky place in the laws of Astem and the doctrines of the Church. It was not illegal to have one, since it was, for non-isekais, inherited from birth, but they were so often associated with Isekais that possessing such a trait often made one an immediate suspect of the Inquisition. You had, of course, been thoroughly investigated and cleared before you had even been allowed to sit the entrance examinations – in fact, your whole life had been a sequence of investigations as your Attractor Trait spooked one Appraiser or bureaucrat or another… and for good reason. The boys you had just interviewed were a testament to what you could have done, had you no restraint or principles.

    It sometimes shocked you at how lenient the Inquisition and Church was where you were concerned. Were your skills really unique enough to justify the risks? Or perhaps they needed someone with an Attractor, someone who couldn’t be corrupted by an Isekai’s own version of it?

    “Wait, wait – Attractor Trait?” Nacissa asked, staring at you as if she was seeing you for the first time.

    Oh. Right. Nacissa was unaware of this little fact. You had thought she had put two and two together before, but perhaps not. Perhaps she had, until now, nothing more than suspicions or conjectures. Nacissa was no Circe, but that didn’t mean she was an investigator.

    “Are you telling me… all this time, with those four…?!”

    “No, Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan. I did nothing of the sort. If I had, I assure you, my head would no longer be on my shoulders.”

    “And I’m supposed to just believe that? Maybe the Princes, but Stefan?”

    You scoffed. “Have I ever once indicated I was ever interested in him? I am not Princess Circe. You should ask him yourself, how ‘hard to get’ I am. You cannot turn the Attractors off, only make them weaker.”

    “Hmph,” Nacissa said, in that tone you recognized, the one she took when she knew you were right, but was unwilling to admit it. “We’ve done enough idle talk, just bring this False Princess in and do your job, before I think it best to take matters into my own hands.”


    ~~~​


    This is a plan vote.

    The interview of Second Princess Circe de Meer will include most questions, but the start of the interview can put focus on certain topics. You have different categories of questioning, and can pick one core theme of questioning for each category for the start of the interview.

    Question Relationships
    [ ] Focus on the abandonment of former friends and their replacement.
    [ ] Focus on the change in paramour preferences.
    [ ] Focus on the nature of the ‘reverse-harem,’ including Silphium.
    [ ] Focus on the Black Prince, the Princess’ betrothed.
    [ ] Focus on a theoretical Yankeevine conspiracy.
    [ ] Focus on the disappearances of the Maids and Knight.
    [ ] Write-in

    Question Appraisal
    [ ] Focus on sudden improvement of the skill ‘Earth Bump.’
    [ ] Focus on change in skills revolving around Demons.
    [ ] Focus on change in alignment.
    [ ] Focus on the sudden decline in the Destiny attribute.
    [ ] Write-in

    Question Thoughts and Beliefs
    [ ] Focus on change of views on Demons.
    [ ] Focus on questions concerning ‘The Incident’.
    [ ] Focus on usage of strange words.
    [ ] Focus on changes in behaviour.
    [ ] Focus on changes in religious beliefs.
    [ ] Write-in

    The decision to push for a Greater Appraisal* of the Second Princess is also available.

    [ ] Push for a Greater Appraisal, regardless of resistance.
    [ ] [roll] Push for a Greater Appraisal, persuade the Education Minister of the necessity. [CHA][Average]
    [ ] Push for a Greater Appraisal, unless the Education Minister condemns the attempt.
    [ ] Ask Princess Circe if she is willing to have a Greater Appraisal.
    [ ] Do not attempt a Greater Appraisal
    [ ] Write-in

    The decision to push for a Mental Dive** of the Second Princess is also available.

    [ ] Push for a Mental Dive, regardless of resistance.
    [ ] [roll] Push for a Mental Dive, persuade the Education Minister of the necessity. [CHA][Tough]
    [ ] Push for a Mental Dive, unless the Education Minister condemns the attempt.
    [ ] Ask Princess Circe if she is willing to have a Mental Dive.
    [ ] Do not attempt a Mental Dive
    [ ] Write-in


    * A Greater Appraisal may potentially reveal more information from Holy Statistics that were missed in a normal Appraisal. This is however not guaranteed, and may or may not provide the information desired.

    ** A Mental Dive skill will have the psychic user insert themselves into the lived memories of the subject, temporarily ‘becoming’ the consciousness of the subject by proxy. This is often used by interrogators and in particular Inquisitors, as it can potentially catch out Isekais by spotting gaps or inconsistencies in their memories, ‘double monologues’ (where there are more than one inner voice, suggesting possession), black-outs, or sudden and inexplicable changes in inner monologue.
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, QUESTIONING CIRCE I
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Questioning of Circe I

    [X] Plan Leading Questions
    -[X] Focus on the nature of the ‘reverse-harem,’ including Silphium.
    -[X] Focus on the sudden decline in the Destiny attribute.
    -[X] Focus on questions concerning ‘The Incident’
    -[X] [roll] Push for a Greater Appraisal, persuade the Education Minister of the necessity. [CHA][Average]
    -[X] Ask Princess Circe if she is willing to have a Mental Dive.

    uJZC0yq9DvIOZUUIS8q49UecrT_ssaCGCUr1Ry2PBv2prON2JHd_FDgoaDyBIRQtSDkvmZGLTdsSFjJsfv0CWa7YUICxR1xqS_0eQKAsAX4OdYbWq7ksHnP4f9t-HYLT0-8cEqPJXvE

    Result = 12 + 3 = 15

    SUCCESS

    (Note: Had to use a new dice roller because apparently Dungeons and Dragons put their online dice roller behind a subscription wall now)




    ~~~​


    At this point, the unused classroom that had been given to you for interviews had become a courtroom, you thought.

    Finally back in the seat and at the desk of the professor, rather than hiding in dirt and flowers, you looked around you at your various agents and Lotte… and unfortunately the Education Minister as well, who had shown himself in. All of your agents, save The Guard still standing outside the door, were present, sitting in chairs lined up against the wall.

    If the Princess, if she was indeed possessed, wished to show her true colours, you would have all the tools at your disposal waiting for her. More even, with Nacissa and Igor. Igor had reminded Nacissa of her Siege Armour, so while it had not been moved so as to not draw attention by the noise, Nacissa could easily run over to the armour if a fight broke out.

    Of course, there was a good chance that Circe’s guards would side with her, and she still had her basilisk… even the demon prince, though you could not be certain if he was in range or not. You understood that if they became involved, you would most likely lose such a fight, but you wanted to have a fighting chance if it came to pass.

    You prayed that this interview would be useful… and not end in everyone dying.

    The room was lit by only candlelight, as the night was now truly here, the faces of your agents half-hidden by shadows. The small flickering flames gave you a proper aura of solemn interrogation for when Averink returned with the Second Princess in tow. She had to have been summoned directly from her bed – she still wore her bedclothes, had not even time to brush her hair. You hoped this would unbalance her, perhaps make her more susceptible to what you intended to do.

    Circe once more sat at the desk in the centre front row, facing you. She looked tired, and her face was bare, without her usual pink makeup. Actually, it was the first time you had ever seen her without any. Despite the common claims by your monastic peers, her physical beauty did not particularly diminish without it.

    You offered a silent prayer, and steeled yourself for what was next.

    “Princess Circe de Meer. Do you swear by the Gods above that your answers and testimony are truthful and correct, to the best of your ability?”

    “Yeah, I swear,” Circe said, before yawning. Her voice was as sleepy as she looked, but seemed more confident than you expected from someone under suspicion of Isekai Possession. She felt some fear, you could see it, but considerably less than you would have thought appropriate. It was possible it was even just because Theodore was in the room, still disguised as a demon.

    “Do you know why you are here?”

    “You wanted to talk with me, right? Ask some questions? I’d hoped we could just have a friendly chat, but well, you’ve summoned me in the dead of night with all these people sitting here…”

    “Indeed, we are here to ask you some important questions… as well as request certain things from you that may aid us in this…” You paused, noticing the Second Princess was no longer paying attention to you and was instead… eating a shortcake.

    Where did she even get one?

    “Mrrmrm, waat?” the Second Princess murmured, mouth still full.

    You stared at her blankly.

    She gulped it down. “Excuse me! I was just a bit peckish, please continue,” she said, trying to school her face into being stern and serious. There were some crumbs left on her face, so the attempt was not entirely successful.

    “...May aid us in this interview, specifically, we may require you to undergo a more intensive Appraisal, and a Mental Dive,” you finished.

    “And please refrain from further… snacking,” Averink added as Circe licked some icing off her fingers. “This is an Inquisitorial interview, not a tea party.”

    “This is outrageous, why would you require a Greater Appraisal, let alone a Mental Dive on the Princess?” the Minister jumped in. “You already signed off on a previous Appraisal!”

    Circe herself remained oblivious.

    “We have come upon new information that has necessitated a second look, as well as further concerns we have had after looking back on the first Appraisal.”

    “And what information is that? I do not see how this matters, unless you are making an accusation.”

    “Of course not,” you lied. “We simply need clarification about other issues found in the process of our routine Appraisal. The technique itself is an art, and can oft be… imprecise.”

    “Then? What information is it?”

    “I will ask my first question, if the Princess is willing to answer…”

    Circe held up her hand, and the Minister fell silent. “Ahem. I will answer any questions that are required of me, in my capacity as the Second Princess of the Kingdom of Astem,” she said, in a calm and carefully pronounced tone.

    “Any question you are permitted to answer,” the Minister added, more to her than you.

    You looked over to the Minister. This was going to be somewhat awkward, considering this man would now be listening to the following inquiries into all the things you now knew or suspected.

    “We would like to ask about your relationship with Prince Ludomir of Neu-Alaynia.”

    “Hm? What of it?” She asked innocently. You picked up “horse-riding” as a flicker of thought from her.

    “We know it was more than just riding lessons,” you pre-empted her, sensing her shock. “We have been told of your intimate relations with the Prince.”

    An aura of shock from beyond your vision swept the room, and fear from the Princess.

    “What!?” the Minister shouted. It seemed he was not aware. “What preposterous… Who is spreading this nonsense?!”

    “Prince Ludomir himself admitted to it in his interview, sworn to the gods,” you said flatly. “Do you deny it?”

    “Of… of course the Princess would!” the Minister said.

    ...

    ...

    “I do not deny it,” Circe said. “And I don’t see any problem either. He was romantic, and kind. My betrothal is to a demon who himself visits temples of Ishtar, and aren’t demons fine with getting it on before marriage?”

    The Minister stared goggle-eyed. “Even if Prince Soleiman is a demon, this is still a serious impropriety…”

    “I assure you that nothing said here will leave the confines of this room, Lord Minister,” Averink said. “We are not overly concerned with whatever… dalliances the students are carrying on.”

    “We are only concerned with protecting the Princess,” you agreed.

    “So then what is the issue?” Circe asked.

    “The issue?!” the Minister replied.

    “It's not like I’ve been doing anything new… you already know about the previous cases, like with the tavern. Rosemarijn probably told you all about that stuff with her brother. Why is this any different? Wasn’t that why I was betrothed to the Demon Prince to start with?”

    “As I said, our business here does not concern the propriety of your relations, however, we can inquire about matters of national security, something I believe Minister van Zottezen would be quite interested in,” you said, knowing now was the time to strike.

    “We wish to perform a Greater Appraisal due to a peculiar irregularity we discovered in the previous Lesser Appraisal. The previous Appraisal file of the Princess, signed by the Lord Inquisitor, suggested that she was under the effects of Silphium ingestion at the time, something that her peers have stated she took regularly and in abundance to assist in her… lifestyle.”

    Upon hearing this, as you were hoping, the Princess felt intense fear… but also surprise. The former you could understand, as you had just revealed to her that you were aware. But the surprise… You tried to glimpse into her mind, a flurry of snippets of thoughts and images, and what you could pick up was confusion about Appraisal.

    Perhaps she was unaware you could detect Silphium ingestion with Appraisal. Many things about Appraisal, what it could and could not reveal, were kept carefully hidden from the public by Appraisers, as a matter of security.

    “However, the Appraisal we performed just today did not. This is in spite of the fact that, according to Prince Ludomir, the two of you are still in an intimate relationship.”

    The Minister’s shock was no less intense. You could feel his dawning horror as he realised the same thing that you, Nacissa, and Averink had realised earlier.

    “Now, our Appraiser, Miss Lotte, is merely an apprentice and could certainly have missed this important yet easily missed status trait. We would like your permission, Minister, to perform a stronger Appraisal that would certainly confirm it is there.”

    “If this is… Yes! Absolutely!” the Minister said. “If she’s pregnant… with a centaur’s bastard, no less –”

    “We’re fucked!” the Minister thought, your mind catching glimpses of what seemed to be hundreds of thousands of imaginary Yankeevine soldiers crossing Astem's border.

    Circe’s eyes widened, and the aura of sheer panic returned. “I can explain, there’s no need for another –”

    “This is our nation’s security at stake, child!” the Minister snapped. “Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

    “By the gods, she’s done it again, another Indecent Trio,” the Minister thought. While you were now utterly confident that he would permit what you intended, this suggested something unfortunate: the Minister’s emotion of surprise and shock was replaced with… resignation and disappointment, recognition even. If you had to guess, it meant that he was not associating this with a possible possession, but of the past behaviour of the actual Circe.

    “But I’m not, you misunderstand!” Circe whined, getting up from the seat. “This is all just a misunderstanding! You see, you see – I just forgot, okay? I forget to do things all the time!”

    Silently, your agents tensed, ready to restrain the Princess, or fight her if necessary. Nacissa behind the window and Alizea inside the classroom both had their hands on the hilts of their rapiers. Circe frantically looked around, finally noticing your team of agents, all standing behind you. She looked at the Minister, but his face was hard and stern, and there was no help to be found from him this time.

    “Pardon me, your Highness, but the Inquisition does not mean you harm, and we are not here to cast judgement, we simply wish to find the truth.” Your voice was steady and calm, but there was steel behind it. “Please, sit down.”

    “Okay. Okay!” Circe flopped back down into the seat, tears in her eyes. “Let's just do the Appraisal then.”

    You gestured for Lotte to come forward. “You have met Appraiser Eikehouten earlier today, and I’m sure you remember the procedure.”

    “Your Highness, you must sit completely still, your eyes closed, and not move nor speak, until the Appraisal is done,” Lotte said. “You will see a bright light, which is normal. Do you understand?”

    Circe sighed and nodded.

    Lotte raised her hand, and the now-familiar circle of white light appeared on the floor, surrounding Circe. The light was brighter and stronger, new runes lighting up within it. Her face screwed up in intense concentration, and her teeth were gritted, but she was able to write down the information on a new piece of parchment.

    After some time, the light faded, and Lotte handed you the new Appraisal file, before slumping back into her chair next to yours. Averink handed her the cup and pitcher of water; Lotte put the cup back on the desk and started to drink straight from the pitcher. She was halfway through it when you finished applying your seal and signature to the file.

    You read through the paperwork. You were not completely sure what you were going to find. A Greater Appraisal did not guarantee any useful information to an Inquisitor, or even any more information than what could be known through a Lesser Appraisal. You hoped for an Attractor at least, something that could explain the paramours, or even Quintijn’s strange immunity.

    Looking at the new document, however, the first thing you noticed was not an Attractor Trait. Her archenemy instead, was now finally revealed.

    There, written clearly, was a name: Prince Soleiman Urdeus och Sarut. The Princess’ own betrothed. The one to whom, not even a year ago, she had been so eager to be wedded and bedded.

    Well. That was certainly something.

    And then, looking further down, you finally saw the special status trait.

    Otome Attractor.

    Finally, some relief. Finally, some hard evidence, plain as day. Something you could actually work with. Unlike a change in elemental affinity, this was still not considered an absolute, since Attractor traits were not as fully understood or researched as Affinities were…

    …but trying to worm out of this would be very, very difficult for whoever was now inhabiting the body of the Second Princess. One did not simply generate an Attractor out of thin air and go without suspicion, and you seriously doubted she would be able to excuse it with a “change in views.” It also explained how she had enthralled Stefan, Pierre, Ludomir, and Kasper, just as your own Attractor had enthralled them years before.

    When you provided your evidence to the Inquisition, you could confidently say that you had the foundations for a real case. Even the Inquisitorial Oversight Committee would agree that you had a reasonable suspicion of possession rather than merely the personal vendetta of a schoolgirl.

    That said, she had Otome Attractor, not Rotten Girl. You were hoping an Attractor Trait would explain Quintijn’s behaviour. You still could not figure it out. He still felt lust and attraction to the Second Princess, so he fundamentally should not be immune to your own Attractor… unless maybe, her Attractor blocked your own?

    No. That couldn’t be right, because your Attractor still worked on Stefan. How was she doing it then, how was she making Quintijn block your Attractor? And why only him and not Stefan?

    After mulling over how it made no sense, you put the parchment down. You could think about such paradoxes later. “We can now proceed with the interview.”

    “Well? Is... is she with child or not?” the Minister asked.

    “I saw no status suggesting as such,” you quickly explained. “If she was, it would have been indicated on the Appraisal.”

    “Thank Enin,” he said. An aura of relief immediately washed over the Minister. Fascinatingly, the Princess herself did not share this response, who instead was still seemingly recovering from you cornering her into the Appraisal. She gazed down at her hands, eyebrows furrowed as if in deep concentration, or lost in some other world.

    “Your Highness… are you… is she still with us?”

    The Minister walked up to the desk and waved his open hand in front of her face. It took some time for her to finally come out of her daydream.

    “Oh, oh, right, sorry. Well, of course I’m not pregnant! I am a princess, after all, ohohoho~!” she declared. That had to be one of the fakest laughs you had ever heard from Princess Circe.

    “Right… I would now like to ask some further questions,” you said. With the Greater Appraisal out of the way, you could return to digging for information. You had devised something of a plan from this point onwards: You intended to lure the would-be Second Princess imposter into a false sense of security.

    “Can you tell me about any happenings of the month of Seroen last year that may have befallen yourself?”

    “Seroen… why – why would you want to ask about that? Don’t you already know?” the Princess asked. There was recognition, she knew what you spoke of.

    “It is quite possible that the changes in your… behaviour… could be explained from that incident, Your Highness. Is that not so?”

    Quick to take this way out, the Second Princess went about explaining the events of last year. The bullying of yourself, the fight Nacissa and Circe got into with Mechtelt, Mechtelt cursing Circe’s… bosom in revenge, your own success in reversing the curse. Your agents looked at you with wide eyes, and from outside the window Nacissa’s aura showed the bright blue-green of shock. They’d never heard this story before, and Circe had never told even her closest friend.

    “And then I said I learned my lesson and promised to never bully you again!” she finished, giving you a bright smile.

    “This cannot possibly be her, she… she would never admit to something like this!” you could hear Nacissa think, the Lady Corporal having thought that and similar things numerous times now. You could only agree. The real Princess Circe would never have been caught dead admitting to this, least of all the nature of Mechtelt’s absurd curse and its effect. The real Circe, who staked so much of her identity on her physical beauty, would have lied, even to the point of absurdity, as if the sheer force of her will could change the reality of the past.

    “Look, I know you must think I’m some kind of Isekai, but I promise you I’m not,” Circe said. “I’ve really changed! That’s it, I swear!”

    You could also hear the Minister mumble “Over… bosoms…” repeatedly, in disbelief, before finally turning on his heel and walking out of the room, muttering something about needing a drink. You actually considered calling for him to come back, as his presence had seemingly become more a boon than a hindrance, but stayed silent.

    “And so, like Prince Ludomir and his fellows, do you then claim that all your past behaviour were simply misunderstandings and such?” Averink asked.

    “No! Of course not. What I did was horrible and not at all appropriate for a Princess. I know that. But Miss Visser helping me like that, when the alternative would have been my doom… It made me realise that if I kept acting that way, I was going to end up dead, or cursed, or exiled, or all sorts of nasty things… and I’d deserve it too.

    “I swear, I am so sorry. I have done everything I can to change, to be a better person since then.”

    “There is no need,” you said in the softest, gentlest voice you could muster. “You apologised when I lifted the curse.”

    “Well, I didn’t really mean it,” Circe said, shaking her head. “I just said sorry to get you to lift the curse. I truly mean it now.” From her aura and thoughts, she seemed nothing but completely sincere. Her smile was pure and innocent. It was strange. It was as if… she herself felt intense guilt over the whole thing.

    You could see a flash of intense teal in Nacissa’s aura, of utter shock, and you heard a sudden rustle in the bushes outside. You quickly turned your head towards the window – Nacissa had evidently fainted, probably over what she heard, Igor catching her before she could fall to the ground. He gave you a brief thumbs up from the window. “She’ll come to within a minute,” he thought to you.

    "What was that?" the Princess asked, looking around.

    "Alizea passing wind," Yasmijn explained, to the annoyed glare of the former. To your surprise, Princess actually nodded, satisfied with the answer.

    Averink shook his head at the ridiculous explanation working, quietly taking the pitcher of water and handing it to Igor through the window. Theodore held his hand to his chin to appear as if he were in stoic thought, but you knew he was trying to stop himself bursting into laughter. Igor, behind the window, dumped the pitcher of water onto Nacissa's face, having dealt with his lady mistress' fainting episodes many times before.

    “I must apologise to you as well,” you said softly. “I knew Mechtelt planned to curse you in retaliation for what you’d done to me, though I didn’t know the exact nature of the curse or its effects. Nevertheless, I failed to warn you. I thought you deserved it.”

    Admitting this had its risks. The real Princess Circe, buried underneath the imposter, could almost certainly still see, feel, and hear everything the imposter could, like all the others that were possessed. But you were committed to your plan to have her lower her guard, and once this case was over, you reckoned you were unlikely to ever see her again.

    “If not for that, I would probably still be the same terrible villainess I was, so don’t worry about it!” Circe said, giving you another bright smile. You looked out the window, to make sure Nacissa didn't faint again for the shock.

    “Dear Queen in Heaven,” Nacissa could only think.

    “Did you know, Your Highness, that in your Appraisal, your Destiny score dropped quite significantly?”

    “Yes…?” she said hesitantly.

    “I have been wondering about it. To have a high Destiny is to either have some great purpose or predestined fate. A young man I know with a Destiny of 29 lives a life of constantly being dragged around to some significant place or another by the world itself, it is inescapable for him. That your Destiny has gone down so greatly, perhaps whatever fate was in store for you is no more.”

    “You think I am not doomed then?”

    You smiled and nodded. “If you really have changed as a person, but are still you – still Princess Circe, that is. Yes. I think it could very well be so.”

    You could catch the flicker of joy in her aura, as well as a fragment of a thought, before it quickly disappeared. You could distinguish the word “doom” which she seemed to fixate on. You supposed it was not too surprising. An Isekai backed into a corner would almost certainly feel a sense of impending doom.

    “This is why…” you continued, “...I would like to ask you permission for a Mental Dive. I wish to see the proof that you, Princess Circe, are no longer a doomed person.”

    You were not sure if this would really work. Logically, an Isekai who had something to hide, who knew they were not in fact who they claimed to be… would not accept a Mental Dive, particularly from an Inquisitor who was certainly searching for evidence of possession.

    Logically, she would not accept.

    Logically, she would fight.

    Even though you had three Inquisitorial Agents, an NPC Guard, and a Knight Templar in full Siege Armour. An animal caught in a trap will chew its leg off to free itself, and you'd learned that an Isekai wasn't much different.

    Your agents stood once more, hands placed on their weapons. Averink stood protectively in front of Lotte – no doubt making plans to take her and run for it if need be, as neither of them were trained fighters, let alone against an Isekai.

    But it seemed, regardless if it were Circe or this imposter, logic was the last and least thing on their mind.

    “I’ll do it, or well, you can do it. The Mental thingy.”

    You looked into her eyes. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and what her soul bared open to you was not fear, or anxiety or guilt, but determination. Indeed, a resolute certainty flowed through her, a certainty you could not reasonably explain.

    “After all,” she said, holding her head high.

    “I am Circe de Meer.”



    ~~~​



    Second Princess Circe de Meer has given you permission to perform a Mental Dive on her. The Minister of Education walked off following the reveal of The Incident’s details so was not there to protest. With Circe’s permission, you do not need to perform a roll to attempt the Mental Dive.

    You must decide how you will approach the Mental Dive. This is a Plan Vote, choose one in each category or otherwise your own write-in option.

    The content within the Mental Dive:

    [ ] Do not interfere at all, Circe controls the memories you see.
    [ ] Interfere enough to remove Circe's conscious control. Memories will be random events. [WIL][Easy]
    [ ][roll] Interfere enough to nudge memories towards significant life events. [WIL][Easy]
    [ ][roll] Interfere enough to nudge memories towards moments of significant emotion [WIL][Easy]
    [ ][roll] Interfere in the memories to curate them towards only relevant events [WIL][Tough]
    [ ][roll] Force a memory of a specific event [WIL][Challenging]
    [ ][Write-in]

    The time within the Mental Dive:

    [ ] Allow memories from any time.
    [ ][roll] Interfere enough to nudge towards getting some memories within the last three years. [INT][Easy]
    [ ][roll] Interfere in the memories to curate them towards events that were within only two years[INT][Tough]
    [ ][roll] Interfere in the memories to curate them towards events that were within only one year [INT][Challenging]
    [ ][roll] Force a memory of a specific time [INT][Challenging]
    [ ][Write-in]

    Second Princess Circe de Meer - The Foolish Princess

    jd-Y9A2zlfrOB-c6Whw84tAjROUNGT2h3GpyS800G9BR76q7TdAXnty-Dj2_Xfe15OxPfW8t7GZY1eI2kHxy1T-dBdjNOJWbk9w9B6tbs610ebdZIRzAM2Ni4Fg4WleLm13lYaV1Dle8


    Name:
    Circe de Meer

    Title (Actual): The Foolish Princess
    Position: Second Princess of the Kingdom of Astem, Betrothed Consort of Prince Soleiman Urzlong och Sarut
    Sex: Female
    Age: 17 years old
    Level: 11
    Classes: Lvl 11 Mage
    Nationality: Kingdom of Astem
    Elemental Affinity: Mana, Fire, Earth


    Race & Origin: Unknown (Requires Grand Appraisal to see)

    De Meer (Circe) I: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) II: Circe is extremely proud of her large chest. In retaliation for her schoolgirl bullying of Visser, Mechtelt cursed her with an ancient curse that removed what she cared for most. This was her body, so that her breasts shrank and almost disappeared. After begging Lijsbet on her knees to remove the curse and promising to never bully her again ever, the young priestess obliged. For this, Circe showed genuine gratitude for possibly the first time in her life.
    De Meer (Circe) III: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) IV: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) V: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) VI: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) VII: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) VIII: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) IX: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)
    De Meer (Circe) X: (Requires Grand Appraisal to see through appraisal)

    Archenemy: Soleiman Urzlong och Sarut, Prince of the Demon Empire
    Alignment: Chaotic Good

    Strength: 10 (Average)
    Perception: 7 (Below Average)
    Dexterity: 14 (Above Average)
    Constitution: 8 (Below Average)
    Intelligence: 8 (Below Average)
    Willpower: 12 (Average)
    Charisma: 25 (Master)
    Destiny: 13 (Above Average)

    Skills
    -Weapon Proficiency: Swords (Above Average)
    -Weapon Proficiency: Siege Armour Operation (Below Average)
    -Mage: Channel Mana (Below Average)
    -Mage: Mana Bolt (Below Average)
    -Fire Mage: Heat (Average)
    -Fire Mage: Ignite (Below Average)
    -Fire Mage: Fireball (Incompetent)
    -Earth Mage: Earth Bump (Proficient)
    -Knowledge: Creator Pantheon Theology (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: Demon Pantheon Theology (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: Mixed Pantheon Theology (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: Fashion and Cosmetics [human] (Average)
    -Knowledge: Fashion and Cosmetics [demon] (Incompetent)
    -Knowledge: Foreign Language - Sarutish (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: History and Politics - Central Kingdoms (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: History and Politics - Demon Empire (Average)
    -Knowledge: Law [Astemmian] (Incompetent)
    -Knowledge: Law [Demon] (Below Average)
    -Knowledge: Noble Customs and Etiquette (Above Average)
    -Knowledge: Noble Customs and Etiquette [Demon] (Incompetent)
    -Knowledge: Statecraft (Incompetent)
    -Skill: Choreography and Dance (Below Average)
    -Skill: Calligraphy [Demon] (Incompetent)
    -Skill: Deception (High Proficiency)
    -Skill: Feminine Arts (Average)
    -Skill: Intimidation, Coercion and Bullying (Below Average)
    -Skill: Management and Organisation (Incompetent)
    -Skill: Oratorial [Persuasion, Negotiation, Rhetoric] (Above Average)
    -Skill: Oratorial [Public Speaking] (Above Average)
    -Skill: Riding [Horses] (Below Average)
    -Skill: Riding [War-beast] (Below Average)
    -Skill: Riding [Dragon] (Incompetent)
    -Skill: Seduction (Master)
    -Skill: Foreign Language - Sarutish (Below Average)
    -Resistance: Alignment Curses (Average)

    Faith: Creator Pantheon (Faction: Unaligned), No Patron Deity claimed.

    Special Flaw: Residual Respiratory and Heart Ailment: Princess Circe de Meer was born somewhat prematurely and crippled by severe breathing and heart conditions that made her an intensely sickly infant and child. As a teenager, Circe is no longer crippled by this condition due to the successful treatment by one the world’s most proficient healers, the Saintess Dorianne van den Dumortier, who was also her caretaker. Despite this successful treatment, the disease has left its mark on her, including tiring and fainting easily.

    Special Status Trait: Custodial Crest [Draco]: This Individual has had a crest tattooed to her by the individual [Soleiman] that ensures that the [monstrous beast - Basilisk] known as [Draco] will sense when she is in danger, harmed, in fear, poisoned, diseased, suddenly unconscious, drowning, falling from great height, buried, etc. Within a certain distance, the Grand Ascension-level Dragon Prince-skill ‘Grand Blink’ will activate, teleporting [Draco] directly to the vicinity of this individual.

    Special Status Trait: Custodial Crest [Soleiman]: This Individual has had a crest tattooed to her by the individual [Soleiman] that ensures that the [Nephilim - Greater Demon] known as [Soleiman] will sense when she is in danger, harmed, in fear, poisoned, diseased, suddenly unconscious, drowning, falling from great height, buried, etc. Within a certain distance, the Grand Ascension-level Dragon Prince-skill ‘Grand Blink’ will activate, teleporting this individual directly to the vicinity of [Soleiman].

    Special Trait (non-racial): Otome Attractor: This individual is capable of enthralling young men to her will, causing them to fall in love with her regardless of previous inclinations or preferences. The trait activates within a certain distance from her and requires high willpower to resist. Wealthy, titled, and handsome young men seem the most vulnerable.


    UEU8z3_tKuM4O2pBghu5chaNWAwWN-Iws8oDa3iJqbmAIVxGJsCQCn8DzjMm15ba1SnXIq4k6pIC8UWEjVE7NfZpGgVVQaK3L_LuQMcXAUeR1lUznkbxxoE5OcRz6td4-B8VYSgy2P4

    I swear and certify with the Gods as witness that these records are true and accurate to the best of my ability.
    Appraised by Lotte Eikehouten, Deputy Head of Recordkeeping
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, MENTAL DIVE: CIRCE I
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Mental Dive: Circe I

    [x][roll] Interfere enough to nudge memories towards moments of significant emotion [WIL][Easy]
    [x][roll] Interfere in the memories to curate them towards events that were within only two years[INT][Tough]


    GE_EEcm23SPnwuxlzqw3H0fdc5BWRvtLmY0GOP6gNKcnvMYnC_8ewdqISp-LeUB5ysqF5NI7h8-F3IhwILtH_tFdHRYBwYaBQodjAtHkc0sq41sBlYMlJAP_Y7yOZJJ5VuVHtp0R2vhr

    Willpower Test = Passed.

    nMe9WX5eYtPnNytk3rHQ8s1QJvvhe2sI65bi-gYGl-dVtXqpV5uWOeYHpMShHLFcpDUw-gSa4pL3vKB9RuEcKSMmDywem0VewRDrOCdHQkPcfB2-7-OFnzFfiB-WQ3NRLATd5XTDmRFr


    Intelligence Test = Failed.


    ~~~

    “After all, I am Circe de Meer,” she said.

    You smile sweetly, nodding. “Then this will only prove that your change was all for the better,” you say, hiding your disbelief.

    You knew Circe, you see. You weren’t her friend, or her lover, or her family, but having been her past victim had given you a certain close perspective. You were not cynical, of course; you believed that there was goodness and hope in everyone, even Circe, and that anyone could be redeemed in the eyes of the Gods and shown a pathway to a righteous life…

    …but you sincerely doubted that the girl before you was such a redeemed Circe de Meer. No one changed that drastically or that suddenly. Even if she seemed to have absolute certainty in her own identity, for reasons you could not yet fathom, you had seen too much, from her strange behaviour to the Attractor trait. This was not redemption, but possession, and you intended to dive into her soul to prove it.

    You close your eyes, and reach out, extending your hands towards the Princess. The Princess’ gaze is still steady, and she offers her hands to you. You sit facing each other, your hands clasped, fingers intertwined.

    “Please stay still, close your eyes, and concentrate on who you are. Your name, your face, your home, whichever is most helpful for you,” you say to her. She nods.

    You too, focus. Within your mind you repeat the name, Circe de Meer. I am Circe de Meer, you think. I am the Princess of Astem.

    Even through your closed eyelids, you could see light glowing around you. You feel a hum of power around you, an odd tingle around your fingers.

    “I want you to concentrate on your memories from no longer than two years ago,” you tell her. This was not dependent on her, but you, but it would certainly help if she cooperated, so you try anyway.

    You focus on the face of the Princess, in your mind. The image of sharp, bright green eyes surrounded by long eyelashes, curving eyebrows, and pink eyeshadow forms in the darkness of your inner eye. A small nose that turned upward, full lips, also in pink. Cascading waves of pink hair framing your high cheekbones. An evil, self-assured smirk forms on your face.

    “This is me,” you say to yourself.

    Your face is given a form around it. You are tall, standing half a head over your former self. A feeling of great burden comes over you, both from the figure you flaunt proudly and the heft you would rather keep hidden, both of these clad in the “tasteful” attire admired by so many. A revealing jacket, the silver corset and gauntlets, the belt with the square gold buckle.

    You try to imagine the interior of a palace you had never seen, a sister you apparently feuded with, a friend who became a Templar, a demon prince you loved and then feared, even that girl, Lijsbet Visser, the peasant priestess who thought herself so righteous.



    With this you could become Circe.

    You would become Circe.





    No.

    You were Circe.





    Circe I


    I am Circe.

    I open my eyes.

    Visser told me to concentrate on memories from two years ago or sooner. Well, what does she know? She’s just an ugly, flat-chested nun. And I’m the Princess, you know, so I am going wherever I please, stupid peasant.

    zLNo36yWBqviQrQw7FAJTGtRS7swDCDE-gLnO1kLv7ORhUFCGmdd4UpI7J8TRGPBzBRp2jK4U6RVUge3A9dnCy4KM_bVmxGtNUPVNVV3wNdCmEpOrDmcMsVOMfMaMFdVueasSOh2GEQ



    You didn’t really think you were the one in control, did you?



    That stupid maid was late again, I think. My smirk fades, and quickly turns to a sneer.

    “Damn her, the lazy ingrate!” I shout, before another blasted coughing fit took me.

    I wake up in my room, decorated in gold and pink and white, marble walls lined with mirrors. I am in my enormous bed, surrounded by pink curtains hanging from a canopy and a small mountain of stuffed animals. My favourite, Mr Smokey, a dragon of course, is next to me. For some reason, he is black. Strange, I always remembered Mr Smokey being red. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

    The nearest mirror glared angry light into my eyes, and in annoyance I look over into it. A small pink-haired girl looks back at me with the same sneer as I had on my lips, all flat chest and skinny legs. I hope I grow up soon, I think. I don’t want to end up like that skinny peasant bitch Vrooman –

    The door slams open, tearing my attention away from the little girl in the mirror. It was the maid, a shrivelled old nag I barely tolerate. She carries a tray filled with vials of potions, each one a different colour.

    “Absolutely unacceptable!” I yell, my voice squeaky. I cough some more, my chest racked with pain. Each breath I take burns, the air searing my throat. “I have been waiting for hours! Hours!

    “I am so sorry, Your Highness!” The maid sets the tray onto the table and bows. I remember that disgusting spew even now, years after I stopped having to take it. My breaths are quicker as I desperately try to get air into my lungs.

    “Now, now, little missy, there is no need for fibs, we were just with you five minutes ago!” says Miss Dumortier as she also walks into the room. I like Miss Dumortier much more than I like the maid. She has bright green eyes and golden hair that shines with sparkles of light. Her face and figure are gorgeous – uncannily youthful. She wears the robes of a Saintess of the Mixed Church, beautifully designed to show off her perfect body. I hope my body is as beautiful as hers when I grow up and marry my Prince Charming in the east. Daddy brought her all the way from Maytabbea to be my healer. Only the best for his little Princess, he said.

    “I don’t care! That stuff is poison!” I shout, throwing a stuffed raccoon at the maid. I hate raccoons – nasty animals. The shouting makes me cough more. I spit blood into the chamberpot before collapsing into the bed. Am I going to die? I ask that question every time I have an attack.

    “I can’t breathe!” I manage to scream between coughs. “I can’t–”

    Saintess Dumortier sits down on the bed and holds my hand. “If you take your medicine, you will be all better.”

    “R-really?”

    “I am a Saintess, remember? I will make everything all better. Your father asked me to help you, to remove your illness, make you ready for your marriage. Your health is already much better than it was when you first met me. Soon you will not have to take medicine at all, and your coughing will be only a bad memory.”

    “But it's still gross!” I pouted.

    “...And I’ll get you a shortcake from the kitchens. How does that sound?”

    I hate the medicine, but I like shortcakes. I hold my nose and swallow the foul potion as quickly as I can. She holds me until the coughing stops. I breathe, and air fills my lungs.

    “See? It’s already working.”

    She smiles softly before looking off in the distance, at something I can’t see, suddenly going very still and very silent. “Aren’t you a little early? Two years.”

    The maid claps. “It's wonderful! You are already looking so much better, Your Highness!”

    “Two years,” she says again.


    ~~~

    I wake up in my bed and look in the mirror. I’m full-grown now, and I take a moment to admire my figure in the mirror. Prince Soleiman is here – I must look my best. The maids hurry in, fussing over my hair. Alarielle follows, holding several pink dresses. My hair is roughly combed, my waist cinched in with a corset. I gasp as Alarielle puts her foot on the small of my back and yanks the laces tighter.

    “Perhaps Your Highness should lighten up on the shortcakes,” she says in that waspish tone of hers.

    “I keep you around to dress me, not tell me what to eat.”

    She curtsies. “Of course, Your Highness. May I suggest this dress?” She holds it up, a waterfall of bright pink satin and golden lace. A flurry of dresses later, and I was ready. I pass a wall of mirrors, each reflecting my beauty greater and more glorious than the last.

    Confident, I open the door, only for a mighty gust of wind to blow into me, pushing me back. There is no floor, nothing below me. The wind sweeps me away, and I fall backwards, and keep falling. I look down, through clouds and droplets of water ruining my perfect hair.

    I scream, both in fear and joy, for when I had asked this of my Prince, I did not think he would actually say yes.

    I land on rough black scales. The dragon looks back at me with his golden eyes.

    “Hang on.”

    I see the rooftops of hundreds of buildings below, the golden spires of the Royal Palace, the bustle of Astoria. I can see the ancient stone castles, the courtyards, the granite Cathedral of St Jacomina and the stained glass skylight of the Inquisitorial headquarters. From this distance, Astoria is an anthill, my subjects scurrying about like so many ants. I feel the wind through my hair, warmed by the sun.

    The dragon’s wings beat hard, and he tilts forward, sending us lower. He sweeps low through the town square, and I revel in the gasps of shock from the commoners.

    My sister was wrong. Up here, I am going to be a far greater queen than she could ever be.

    He tilts again, wheeling back around to the Royal Palace. I land on a balcony, and in a flash of light and fire, the black dragon is gone, and something closer to a man replaces it. He’s everything I ever dreamed of. He was… he was beyond words. Tall and muscled, with an elegant face framed by waves of platinum hair and four great curling black horns, as if Ishtar had made him just for me. He looks down at me, his proud golden eyes clearly impressed by how great I was.

    I clap, as if I was a child. “Again!”

    He chuckles. “You will ride me many times more, once we are married, little Princess.”

    Little Princess?! I almost bark out, but I hesitate. The top of my head doesn't even reach his shoulder, so I can't be too angry at him, and the mighty black wings and armoured tail reminded me what he was only moments before.

    I am cleverer now, however. I did not need to throw stuffed animals as my first choice. I am sure My Prince could be persuaded in other ways. I latch myself to his waist and press my chest into his side.

    “Please~?”

    He simply pats me on the head. “I must attend to business with your parents first, little Princess.” He turns away, as if his attention was caught by something else. “Two years,” he says. “You cannot tarry here.”


    ~~~​


    I wake up in a bed. This is not my splendid bed of silken pink sheets in the Royal Palace, but richly outfitted in velvets in scarlet and blood-red, and shaped like the seed pod of a silphium plant. I look into one of the rows of mirrors lining the wall. My hair is mussed, my cheeks flushed pink. There is banging on the door. I hurry to pull my nightdress back on, slide my feet into slippers, and open the door.

    The door opens into the main room of the tavern, the flickering flames of the fireplace throwing light onto the walls of plain stone and wood. At the head of the table is my mother, seated in the Tulip Throne. My father stands at her side. Seated at the table are the ministers and courtiers of her Stadtsraad. They turn to look at me as I walk in.

    “Mother, what is going on?”

    She does not answer, and her face is stern. I see a long line of men enter the room, each of them in golden fetters and led by a uniformed Royal Guard. Taylan Ninurta, my dark-haired Sarutish tutor, is first; then I see golden-haired Adriaan, and Quintijn, his shirt half-opened; then Llorenç the Beastmaster, whom I’d met in the Demon Quarter. Master-at-Arms Floris is next, his swords still at his side, and then Lindert too. I even recognize proud Reiner in his Kriegsmagier uniform. Ardejn, Harri, Ruben…they keep coming. All of them stare at me with accusing eyes.

    Last of all, three more are escorted in to join the group. Vicenzo, his hair braided and decorated with beads and feathers; tall blond Joren; dark-haired, pale Julien. They are naked, covering their shame with pillows.

    Strangely… there are four who are missing.

    My mother finally speaks. “Do you recognize these young men?”

    When I don’t answer, her tone grows sharper. “What have you to say for yourself, young lady?”

    “It’s all a misunderstanding!” I say.

    “These men have spent the night in the gaols on your account,” Mother says. “You can tell the truth, or you can join them.”

    I stay silent, trying to think up an excuse, any excuse. I can't.

    “By the Gods, Circe, what have you done? Tell the truth, for once in your life!”

    “Fine,” I say, defiant. “What they say is true. I am the Princess, I have needs. I told them that it was their duty and honour to serve my needs.”

    I hear a gasp. Father’s face falls. He is not angry at me, simply… disappointed. For some reason this hurts more than the anger.

    “I see you are very proud of yourself,” Mother says. “What do you think should happen to you – and to these men, who have stained your honour and stolen your maidenhead?”

    I shrug. “What does my maidenhead matter? It’s just a bit of blood on a sheet, that's all,” I say. I got rid of that long ago. “I’m the Princess. I did nothing that isn’t done in the Demon Empire a thousand times over. Why can’t I just marry them all at once and have a harem?”

    Father stares, horrified. Mother’s mouth presses into a thin line. Her face is a mask of icy rage.

    “You have taken to her teachings well. If you wish to be a demon so badly, that can be arranged,” she says. She motions to another guard. “Take her away.”

    “Wait!” I cry, as the guard grabs me by the arm. I try to run to my parents, but the guard wrenches me away. I shut my eyes against a splitting headache, and ivory demon horns sprout from my forehead, blood trickling down. “I can explain! I didn’t mean it that way! Daddy, please –”

    On the throne, my mother sobs as the guards drag me toward the door.

    My father reaches for her, but she pushes him away. “Damn Ishtar! This is your fault, Caracallo! Dumortier was there to heal and teach her, not turn her into a whore!”

    My father gazes off to the corner, gazing at the shadows on the walls. “Two years,” he says. “You shouldn’t stay here.”


    ~~~​


    I wake up in my bed, swinging my legs over to put on my slippers. I look at my reflection in the mirrors. I’m not grown yet, but I'm less skinny than before. Father says I look just like my mother, and I’ll be the delight of the Kingdom someday.

    I hear a wet sploosh as my foot hits the floor, and look downward. I have evidently stepped into a puddle. I look up, and water drips from the ceiling. Damn the maids! By the gods, how is there water leaking in the palace!? I put my slippers on, intending to give the lazy trulls a piece of my mind.

    The dripping becomes a trickle.

    I throw the door open, and the trickle becomes a downpour. The stairs are a waterfall of raging water, the currents rushing past my legs, my stuffed animals and mirrors floating away. My hair has become a wet pink sheet.

    The currents sweep me away, carrying me down the stairs.

    I look up another staircase, over the torrent of water falling down the steps, to see the silhouette of a woman. Light shines over her back from the stained glass window behind her. Her arm is stretched outward, water pouring forth from her fingertips.

    Of course it’s her. Of course. I throw a ball of fire, but it misses, flickering out.

    “Pitiful,” she says. She knows how to get under my skin. “You should stick to what you are good at, sister…spreading your legs.”

    I throw another fireball, easily quenched by the water. I throw another, but my sister’s earth magic pulls my leg from under me, and my fireball explodes in my own face as I fall backward with a great splash.

    “STOP CHEATING!” I scream at her. I hated Earth, I hated Water. They were my sister’s. I had Fire… and that was it.

    “Ohh, you aren’t going to pull another tantrum, are you?” she asks in a falsely sweet voice. “Your reputation hasn’t yet recovered from your screaming fit at my wedding, little sister. Maybe it would be wise to just walk away?”

    I seethe. Cicilia wasn’t prettier than me, she wasn’t smarter or stronger than me… just more arrogant! I am the best! I know I am.

    “By the will of the gods, Earth Bump!” I yell. The mirrors on the wall crack.

    I huff as I stand up again. My sister is split in two by a stalactite of rock. Her horrified face looks up at me.

    “But… how… you shouldn't – shouldn’t have that…” she whispered. “Not for… Two years, Circe. Two years.”

    She vanishes into thin air. The mirrors shatter, raining sparkling glass.


    ~~~


    I wake up in my bed, tossing the silken sheets aside. The walls are smooth, pale wood, decorated with row upon row of circular mirrors.

    Nacissa, whose bed is on the other side of the room, is already dressed, her uniform immaculate. “Circe, we’re going to be late.”

    “I’m the Princess, I can’t be late,” I say. “Princesses arrive exactly when they mean to.” Alarielle brushes my hair, then curls it, while Constance stands at attention with a tray – morning tea and, of course, my favourite shortcakes. I like those two – as maids go, they know what to do, unlike those other traitors, like Charity who spilled tea into my lap and ruined my best dress. I gasp as Alarielle has to pull even harder on the corset laces this time. I wave her away, pulling on my school uniform. Alarielle sighs as I stuff all of the shortcakes into my mouth at once. The polished silver tray cracks into pieces.

    “Oh. That gives me an idea,” Nacissa says.

    I pull on my shoes, and open the door. Nacissa lines up behind me as Constance and Alarielle busy themselves with making my bed and taking my laundry. Even the halls of the Academy are lined with mirrors – I lean over to look at my reflection, arranging my hair.

    “Your rapiers, my ladies, freshly polished,” Nacissa’s butler bows as he hands them to us. “For this afternoon’s duelling practice.”

    “Watch how you handle my rapier, servant,” I snap. “If you damage it, I’ll have your head for it, you damned demi.”

    Nacissa’s mouth forms the barest of frowns. One of the mirrors cracks, two halves crashing to the floor. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say such things, all I meant was that I hope there isn’t anything wrong with the sword.”

    We walk down the hallway, towards the field.

    Walking down the other way past us is Lijsbet Visser. According to Lisanne, who knows everything about everything that happens in this school, the Church plucked her from some mud hut in the middle of nowhere and sponsored her tuition because she could read minds, or something. She is about the size and proportions of a padoru, all oversized head bobbing around atop a shrunken little body. She wears a nun’s veil and carries a lot of books, since all she does is read.

    “Ohh, Visser...,” Nacissa calls out to her.

    “Yes, um, Lady Luttefmont-Furholjan, Your Highness?” she squeaks, like a little mouse cornered by two cats.

    “Firstly, you should curtsy when greeting your betters,” Nacissa says. “Secondly, Her Highness has gained weight, and is in need of a… breastplate stretcher.”

    “I beg your pardon?” Visser asks.

    I glare at Nacissa and open my mouth to protest, but she continues.

    “Specifically, she has gained weight in her bosom. Her Highness cannot attend duelling practice in ill-fitting armour. She needs her breastplate stretched.”

    Visser nods, her huge head bobbing up and down. I too nod, satisfied that Nacissa wasn’t trying anything funny. I could almost swear Nacissa had meant something else.

    “Go to the Academy’s armoury and fetch us the breastplate stretcher. Her Highness will thank you.”

    Visser curtsies. “Yes, my lady!”

    Once Visser has run off in the direction of the armoury, we burst into laughter. If we were lucky, the man-at-arms would send Visser off to another place, and then another, and if we were really lucky, she’d spend half the day running around the Academy.

    Nacissa turns to me, grinning from ear to ear. “When do you think she will figure it out?”

    “For a so-called genius, she sure is stupid,” I say. Almost every day we fool Visser into some pantomime or another, and it never gets any less funny. Stolen shoes, ink spilled on her uniform, bugs in her food, a copy – actually my copy – of Baron von Kürschner's infamous book about the Demon Empire slipped in her bag. Serves her right for stealing his son from my bed, anyway.

    But Nacissa doesn’t look at me. She looks off somewhere else.

    “It took you long enough to reach two years, peasant,” she says.


    ~~~​


    I wake up in my bed in the Palace. Once more, I toss the sheets aside, and swing my feet forward, enjoying the feeling of my bare feet on the cool stone floor. The maids return to fuss over my hair, and Alarielle comes in once more with a dress and the dreaded corset. I wave them away. It seems like so much work for a little frivolity.

    “There is no need,” I say. “I wish to take a walk to the gardens.” My gaze turns to the mirrors on the wall. They are all cracked now, my reflection distorted and split into two. I hold a shovel, and a simple square of cotton keeps my hair from falling into my eyes.

    The halls of the Palace seem like a labyrinth now. Pieces of broken glass litter the floor and steps, making them glitter like diamonds. The stairs go on, and on, neverending, leading to nowhere, or to doors tilted the wrong way. Frustrated, I close my eyes and envision a door of steel that opens and closes on its own. I enter the door, press a button, and with a ping, I am lowered into the palace gardens.

    Finally, I am amongst the greens and flowers. The rays of light from the sun are weak, and the morning fog is thick and heavy. I’m concerned about the harvest. How will my garden make me some delicious veggies without sunlight?

    I drop the shovel and run through the garden, worried about my cute vegetables, and a dog starts chasing me, barking madly. Why was it chasing me!?

    I try to climb a tree to avoid it, but despite all my experience in tree climbing, this body is far too unfit to pull it off. I struggle to maintain my hold on the tree and then I fall to the ground. I have to build up my strength. Wasn’t I sickly as a child?

    “Bark! Bark! Get out! You don’t belong here!” the dog kept yelling at me. The dog wears a silver collar studded with rubies, and for some reason, has a woman’s voice. Maybe the dog was female?

    I pull a toy snake from my pocket. As I throw it at the dog, it turns into a real snake with hypnotic eyes, sprouting fangs and hissing venom. I use the chance to bolt again.

    Bushes sprout from my garden, growing into another labyrinth. The hedges grow higher than I am tall, trapping me in.

    My running is fast and frantic now, passing more mirrors in the hedges of the maze as I turn corner after corner. As I pass them, they crack and fall. I see Aoileann, half stuck inside a hedge. She raises a watering can. “Have ye tried moving the veggies?” she asks.

    “Maybe later!” I yell, passing her. Her voice trails off, warning me my green thumb will disappear if I don’t use it.

    I think I’ve finally reached the centre of the hedge maze. There is a cracked marble fountain in a little courtyard. The water in it is still and black as pitch, an oily sort of rainbow shine coming from it, and yet I can see my reflection in it. There are three paths branching off – one to my left, one to my right, and one straight ahead. On the left, shining mirrors line the hedge walls. On the right, broken shards of glass litter the path. In the middle, I can see only darkness and shadows, and the rattle of chains in the wind.

    ~~~
    I will..

    [ ]
    Take the left-hand path.
    [ ] Take the right-hand path.
    [ ] Take the path down the middle.
    [ ] Turn back.
     
    CASE II - NO OTOME GAME, MENTAL DIVE: CIRCE II
  • CASE II: No Otome Game, Mental Dive: Circe II (Uncensored)

    [x] Take the path down the middle.

    Note: This is the same 'uncensored' version as on QQ as the content is pretty tame for this individual threadmark.


    ~~~​


    I steel myself and walk forward. I hear another clatter of metal from the darkness. I don’t want to go this way. I try to stop, but something compels me, tells me to take the middle path. I hear the barking of a dog behind me again, and in fear, finally, run straight ahead, into the darkness.

    If I were still devout, I think I'd say a prayer, but to whom? I don’t even know anymore.

    I stumble through the dark. I can feel but cannot touch, hear but not listen… my eyes are open but unable to see. The barking of the dog is gone, and yet even though I run through the darkened hedge, it feels as though I am motionless.

    I am trapped here, alone, with nothing but mirrors that no longer reflect my image. I scream, but no one listens. No one will help me.

    The ground slips from beneath my feet.

    I fall.

    ~~~​


    From the darkness again, I awaken. I slip out of bed, standing in the darkened expanse of my royal bedroom, alone. There is no sunlight streaming through the windows, no fires to warm the stone floor. I look for Alarielle and Constance, but both are absent. It is only then I remember that I had fired the former, and the latter was now in… in the dungeons. I weep. I had no choice. I repeat this to myself, amongst the broken mirrors of my room. I had no choice…didn’t I? I didn’t.

    I do not want to die. I, too, am trapped here. I look down at my body, and am ashamed of it. I tried to convince myself it was because of what Vrooman had done to it, but it was a lie. Ever since then, it had felt different, I had felt different in it. The heaving, ridiculously large breasts that make my back hurt and bounce around painfully when I run, a butt large enough to get stuck in things…

    …it's almost as if I am not a real person, but some kind of walking fetish fuel.

    My search for answers is interrupted by a sharp pain in my lower leg. I look down in shock. The same dog has found its way into my room, and has bitten into my leg. I scream in agony and kick it off. It flies straight into the remaining mirror still standing in my room, and breaks it too. It yelps in pain, and disappears into mist.

    Swinging open the door of my room, I flee, running as far as I can through corridors and down stairways. I pass Verity and Prudence, and even the new maid, Amity, who smiles and waves pleasantly, oblivious to my fears. I could hear the dog barking again.

    I run, and run, the dog still chasing me. “Bark! Bark! Get out!” it growls after me. I don’t understand why the dog hates me. Did I not feed her… or, or, maybe I stepped on her tail once… or maybe she’s just intimidated by my evil face?

    “Bark! Bark!”

    “Please, doggy, go away! I don’t want to fight!” I shout back at her.

    I run for the front doors of the Grand Hall, but they open before I can even reach them. A feeling of intense dread comes over me, and my run screeches to a stop. Out of the darkness, strides forth the immense, hulking form of my betrothed. The demon prince’s physique is… absurd, almost an obscene parody of masculinity. How could I have ever thought it was normal, let alone desired?

    He looks down upon me, glaring with rage, his pupils pinpricks, smoke streaming from his nostrils. “Where did you go!?” he screams.

    “I… I don’t…”

    “Where. Did. You. Go?!” he repeats, backhanding me across the face. The force is so great that I sprawl to the ground, looking up into his glowing red eyes. I find my feet and scramble up.

    I try to back away, slowly, as he marches forward. The dog, whom I had forgotten about with the prince’s arrival, appears again, but instead of barking, it runs past me, wagging its tail and panting next to my fiance.

    He grabs me by my hair before I can run. “If you will not tell me, you will be persuaded,” he says.

    “I didn’t go anywhere!” I shout, unable to flee. He tugs sharply.

    “DO NOT LIE TO ME!”

    He hits me again, and again. I cry and plead for him to stop, but he is unmoved.

    He lifts me off the ground with one huge hand, my legs frantically kicking. My legs kick his thighs, then the stupid codpiece, and then they dangle, kicking at air. A clawed hand grips tighter around my neck, lifting me high above his head.

    “Did you honestly think you could steal what was mine?” The Demon Prince’s voice is a harsh whisper, almost a hiss. He gives me a sharp shake.

    I gurgle and gasp in response, unable to speak. I look around frantically. Someone, anyone, help! Please!

    I look down at the dog, and she glares at me, green eyes sharp with hatred. The dog is smiling. Her tail wags faster.

    Please, I don’t… I didn’t mean… Stop! Just stop!


    Stop!


    My vision goes black.


    ~~~​


    I wake up with a start. My hands move to my neck, which is no longer in the hand of an enraged demon. In relief, I take in greedy gulps of air, uncertain if the demon could barge in at any moment.

    I look around… and it is dark, only the softest moonlight passing through drapes over the windows. A glimmer of light reflects my image in a pristine mirror. I am on the ground, kneeling. I look down, and for the first time in many years, I can see my own stomach, my gown draping loosely as I’ve hidden myself in heavy fabrics. My eyes widen in shock as it hits me.

    My body! What has happened to my beautiful body?!

    I grasp frantically where my tits used to be, unable to feel anything but flat skin over my ribs… Someone has stolen my breasts!

    I look back up, and I see Visser again, standing over me, with her big stupid bobbing head and her big stupid books. “I can help you,” she says.

    “It was you!” I snarl, standing up. “Wasn’t it?! You’ve always been jealous of me, so you cursed me and made my – my…! I’ll have you in the dungeons for this! Give them back!”

    “The Gods do not look kindly upon those who make false accusations, Your Highness,” she says in that horrid, ugly voice of hers.

    “I know it was you!” I scream. “Who else could it be!?”

    She looked up at me, questioningly. Her oversized eyes blink, staring wide like an owl's. How dare she, it was that face she made when she thought she was smarter than me.

    “I didn’t do this to you. But I can undo it.” She smiles, that horrid sickly sweet smile. I reach over and slap the stupid smile off her face.

    “What are you waiting for, then?!”

    Visser slowly turns back to me. Her smile is gone, replaced by a cold, superior sneer.

    “Firstly, I want you to apologise.”

    “Apologise!? Utterly ridiculous! I am the one you should be apologising to!” I try to wipe the tears off my face, and then I grab her by the stupid nun's robes and shake her back and forth. “Fix this, Visser! Fix this now! I want them back, now! NOW!

    I continue to cry. Visser still watches, not doing anything. After an impasse of more crying, sobbing, and teeth gnashing, I let go of her and go silent.

    “Yes, I am sorry.”

    She still stands there, unmoved.

    “You want me to get on my knees? Do you want me to beg you? Would you be satisfied then?” I drop to my knees.

    Of course it’s humiliating, me, the Second Princess of the Kingdom, having to beg for favours from this peasant girl from the swamps. But I can’t show my face in public like this. I need them back! I’ll be ugly like Visser without my breasts! I can’t marry the Prince when I’m flat as a board! I. Need. Them. Back!

    “I am very sorry, I beg you, I will do anything! Anything!

    “Secondly, I want you to swear that you’ll leave me alone from now on.”

    “Yes, I swear–”

    “Swear it by Enin’s crown.”





    “I swear, by Enin’s crown,” I repeat, after sniffling.

    There is silence, before Visser finally nods, her oversized head bouncing back and forth. She smiles, as a great glowing light shines from her hands, engulfing my whole body.

    After what could have either been mere moments or hours, I eventually get up and run away, crying. I could feel my bosom swinging, the familiar “boing boing” returning as I made my hurried exit from Visser, without even a word of thanks. After all, I am the Princess. Peasants like her were put upon the earth to serve me.

    A brief run down the Academy main hallway, and I find myself again in my dorm room. I swing the door closed with a bang, and run to one of my many mirrors. I must have spent the next hour crying and breaking things after suffering such a humiliation. I didn’t bother to look at how dark the room was, how I was alone, neither Nacissa nor the maids in sight.

    I look up into the mirror, and see the dog again. I try to look away, but my eyes were held in place, unable to look away.

    It was then that I hear Visser’s voice again.

    “Tell me who is holding you here.”

    I turn and blink at her.

    “You know something is wrong,” she says. “I can help you.”

    I stick my tongue out at her and pull my eyelid down. “Just because you fixed my boobs doesn’t mean we’re friends!”

    She looks at me. Is that pity I see on her stupid face? Pity?! I am the Princess! And she’s just a flat-chested ugly wannabe saintess! How dare she pity me!

    “Fine,” I say with a scoff. “Just stop making that stupid face at me.”


    ~~~​


    We walk down the hallway. I open a door on the right.

    Visser nods, and takes a seat in the front row, beckoning me to sit next to her. An old man, bearded and bald, speaks softly to the class as he writes on the blackboard. I freeze where I stand, looking around.

    I’ve never seen this classroom before.

    I look down at Visser’s textbooks. The Malleus Isekaificarum, one reads. Advanced Spirit and Soul Lore, says another. Of course. This is one of her stupid religious classes. She’s going to apply for the Inquisition of all things. Nacissa says that the Inquisition is just a bunch of paper-pushing bureaucrats these days, and the Knights Templar do all the real fighting. I guess Visser wants to do nothing but read more books and get paid for it. Peasants are so lazy.

    Of course, hell would freeze over before I read any of these. In fact, I was not quite sure why I was even here. Why am I here?

    “Do any of you have any questions from yesterday’s discussion?”

    Visser raises her hand.

    “Yes, Lijsbet?” the old man says.

    “Father Cosmo, I have read the chapters on Possession, and one question has haunted me for quite a long time,” she says.

    “Yes, child?”

    “Is it possible to separate a possessing soul from a host?”

    The old man was quiet for some time, before tilting his head to the side. “Well, of course. That is called the Rite of Exorcism. You should know this.”

    Visser only shakes her head. “Yes, I have read that chapter as well. Is it possible to separate the possessing soul from a host while sparing the lives of both of them?”

    The old man’s face paled, and his eyes went wide. “I – well …. That is…”

    Before he could even finish whispering the word “impossible,” Visser spoke up again.

    “...but why?”

    Something here was not right. I look around, and what was once a full classroom is emptied, with only Visser, this Father Cosmo, and myself left.

    I am too shocked to speak up. I don’t remember any of this. I – I mean, she, Visser… she has never said that, she would never say that. She was far too proper and polite to speak to the teachers in this way, and too prim to question The Church. What was going on?!

    “Why is it impossible?” she asks again.

    The old man speaks with enormous reluctance, as if the words were forced from him. “It is the way of the world and the will of the Gods. It cannot be defied. You do understand that they steal these bodies, don’t you?”

    “But… but what if they were trapped?”

    “Visser, please… As I am sure you are asking this question out of simple intellectual curiosity and not any heretical desires, of course, theoretically speaking –”

    Cosmo suddenly goes silent and still. I look at Visser, who looks at me with equal confusion. We both look back at the elderly professor. His face goes slack, his eyes gazing off, as if looking out into an infinite abyss of fog.





    The room goes pitch black, as if all the lights had been extinguished at once. I hear the old man’s voice from somewhere in the darkness, cold and monotone.

    “You should have kept that green thumb of yours where it belonged, Princess.”

    The wind howls. I hear the rattle of chains and the shattering of glass.

    “Look at the two of you, dancing around each other in this illusionary place… you ought to stick to hide and seek, Inquisitor.”

    There is a horrible screech, and the faint shine of metal, and I see nothing but two bright lights, terrible twin white stars, rushing toward me.

    This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had to get out, now.

    “Enin, Sentinel, hear my prayer!” I shout above the wind. Visser, the other Visser – am I Visser? Is she me? – looks around frantically, a look of horror and confusion upon her face.

    I am not Circe de Meer!

    The darkness fades to white as the twin lights bear down upon me.






    ~~~​

    With a start, you wake up.

    Princess Circe sits facing you at the desk, your hands still linked together.

    “Is…is it done?” she asks.

    Slowly, very slowly, you untangle your hands from hers. You are still under quite a daze, your breathing fast and shallow. Averink rushes to you with the water pitcher.

    Lotte and your agents stare at you with wide eyes. Theodore stands by your side, gripping your shoulder. At first you would have thought they were surprised by witnessing a Mental Dive for the first time, but…

    “Are… are you okay?” Theodore asks. There is an aura of fear around him and almost everyone else around you, excluding the Princess. The Princess simply looks confused.

    “Is… is there anything of concern?” you ask in return, your memories foggy as you try to recollect what exactly you had just seen.

    “You… you started shaking everywhere, having some kind of fit. Honestly, we thought you were going to die. Are you sure that a Mental Dive is supposed to do that?”

    Alizea nods. “The last thing we heard was you screaming prayers before you collapsed.”

    You said nothing. Obviously, a Mental Dive should never do that, as you should have been peacefully motionless until the dive ended.

    Averink, ever the professional, waves them back. “Alizea, send for some food and water from the kitchens. Theodore, send for a healer. Stand back, give her some space to breathe.” He turns to you and hands you parchments, pen, and ink. “Of course, you should write down everything you saw and heard, for the record. Quickly, before you forget.”

    You try to recollect what happened…

    This is a Plan Vote.

    Did the Mental Dive appear accurate?


    [ ] The memories you witnessed had clarity and realism, they were real events.
    [ ] The memories you witnessed had dream-like properties, the events could be corrupted.
    [ ] The memories you witnessed appeared to have been tampered with, the events could be fabricated.
    [ ] The memories you witnessed appeared to be entirely falsified, and could very well be mere dreams or imagination.
    [ ] write-in

    Was there any sudden and inexplicable change in your inner monologue?

    [ ] Yes
    [ ] No
    [ ] Perhaps…?

    Were there signs of a double monologue?

    [ ] Yes
    [ ] No
    [ ] Perhaps?

    Were there signs of a gap or inconsistency in events of the memories?

    [ ] There were inconsistencies in events that suggested an alien presence.
    [ ] There were inconsistencies in events, however they can be explained by the subject’s own subconscious.
    [ ] There were inconsistencies in events in both the subject’s subconscious and an alien presence.
    [ ] There were no inconsistencies in the events of the mental dive.
    [ ] Write-in

    Were there any sudden black outs?

    [ ] Yes
    [ ] No
    [ ] Perhaps…?



    What occurred with the last memory?

    [ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
    [ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
    [ ] It is best not to dwell on it.
    [ ] Write-In.


    ~~~​


    As you write, you notice that Nacissa was no longer hiding behind the window outside, but instead leaning over Circe. She has her hand on her rapier, clearly expecting Circe to attack.

    You slowly shake your head while glaring at her. She sniffs, but her hand drops from the basket handle of her blade. You were not in the right state to tell her she should have still been hiding behind the window.

    “Your Highness, considering the effects of the Mental Dive on the Adjutant-Inquisitor, perhaps you should stay to be examined by a healer,” Averink says. “After that, you are free to return to your dorm.”

    Princess Circe, like yourself, was too dazed to make any proper reply, and simply nodded while mumbling something about shortcakes.

    Some time passes as you silently write out the mental dive, ignoring the throbbing headache you now had. The Princess too, was groaning from the experience, rubbing her head. It was then that Theodore returned to the classroom with a woman that you recognized as the Academy's teacher of healing arts. She bows respectfully and greets the Princess first and then yourself as she enters the room. Once allowed closer, she lays a gentle hand upon the Princess’ forehead, then presses two fingers to her neck. She does the same to you soon after.

    “Their breathing and heartbeat seem to have returned to normal,” she says. “Make sure they rest and eat well. The headache should pass. If anything changes, please feel free to alert me.”

    “Very well,” Averink says. “Your Highness, you are dismissed with the Inquisition's thanks for your cooperation. Please stay within the Academy's premises – for your health, of course.”

    Circe nods, walking back to her room with something of her old haughtiness. Nacissa and even Igor glare at her as she walks away.

    “Are you well enough to conduct the interview with Baron von Kürschner?” Averink asks you as Alizea returns with another pitcher of water and a tray of sandwiches, accompanied by a bowl of Galato and lemon shortcakes. You were a bit bemused, but appreciative, at such gentle concern from the researcher who had once berated you for your lateness.

    “I am fine, Mr Averink,” you say. “Besides, my Attractor may help to loosen Stefan's tongue.” It would be, you hoped, one of the few times it would actually be useful for you.

    “Well?” Nacissa asks. “Are you not going to Exorcise her? What else was the point of all that?”

    “I will need time to recover and think about what I saw,” you say.

    Nacissa rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You were screaming and shaking, for Enin’s sake, what else do you want?”

    “If Princess Circe is an Isekai, we should still not provoke her to attack inside the Academy,” you say. “Think of other people, for once in your life.”

    Nacissa's eyes squinted, her nose scrunched up, as she clearly wished to tell you off, however after looking around at all the agents, said nothing.

    “Someone like Princess Circe is not someone I can just go and Exorcise.”

    Nacissa sighed. “Igor and I can guard her,” she said. “But if this Imposter Princess makes one false move – ”

    “Yes, you'll thrash her,” you muttered. Even the most holy of us could reach the end of their patience. “Please do let me know when you commence the thrashing in time to perform the Exorcism, Lady Corporal.” You certainly did not need to cause another international incident on this mission, you thought.

    ~~~​



    Note: VOTING IS NOW ENABLED.

    Be aware that voting is being shared with another website. I will post updates on what the other website's voters have decided to vote on and vice versa. If plans from that website (QQ) break the TOS of this website (or vice versa), then I will either edit or censor elements of the plan so that it will fit for that website. In the event that SB ever unlocks the quest there, it will become a 3-way cross platform quest, although at this point I doubt the SB Moderators ever will.

    The SB Version, if ever unlocked, has Randy Rabbithorn replaced with a new character called "Bob Chapman". Due the radical changes made for the censored SB version as required by its moderation staff, there may come some significant differences in voting there, in which case I will have 2 separate voting groups.​
     
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