With Ryuuko volunteering, it appeared as if this examination would soon be over. Maximilien nodded once, recognizing at a glance the prodigious Egoist who so disdained her own nation, the dragon-girl who had joined Jeanne in her pyromania in the minutes before curfew began. A gazebo had been reduced to cinders, after all. [i]That[/i] account was reported only with circumstantial evidence and eyewitness reports, however, and hadn’t been worth bringing up. If accomplices wished to watch each other’s backs though, the wig-wearing youth had no qualms with letting them both burn.

Unfortunately, others seemed more eager to jump into the flames.

Franz Steiner, the Universal Genius, revealed his common origins with every word he spoke. Even as the self-proclaimed Mesmerologist approached with increasingly incendiary language, Maximilien’s expression did not change. His eyes were mirrors, reflecting a learned apathy towards the outcries of buffoons.

Le Bang Kieu, Vietnam’s little prince, was at least somewhat reasonable, despite what Abya Yalan theories of justice had infected his mind. The difference of understandings between nations and cultures remained though, of the difference between the justice served upon Technologists and Egoists, of the insignificant value of an impartial jury when it came to any case that involved a Polymath renowned enough to make it to Bermuda. There was a flash of pity, but no response still. Maximilien could see that the boldness of two empowered further speech from more.

He had not expected this child, nameless as they were, to posit such a question though. The world was wide, it appeared. Wide enough that even after fifty years, there were still those who did not understand the value that an Egoist presented in such scenarios. Maximilien paused briefly, mind moving at lightning speed to determine how genuine of a question it was, before speaking. [b]“For us who remain human, an Egoist will always be our physical superior. Subsequently, they are the most capable when it comes to reacting, surviving, and suppressing any other Major’s attempt at escape.”[/b]

The last one to speak, to volunteer, was unremarkable in both reputation and demeanor. Maximilien fancied Nazca with a nod of acknowledgement, before placing his index finger against the platform upon which Jeanne was marooned. Tracing a pathway through the starscape of the Divine Calculus, he turned stone to sand, the construction sinking lower and lower until the bound woman was on the ground once more.

[b]“You have many friends, Du Bordeaux,”[/b] he spoke quietly, placing all her gear but the flame-spewing claymore into her leather-encased hands. [b]“Give thanks, for the mercy they’ve shown.”[/b]

Perhaps she too had words to exchange with the Head of the Committee of Public Safety, but Maximilien’s gaze was no longer upon her.

[b]“It goes without saying that if another incident involving Jeanne occurs during these next three days, all of you who have volunteered will be held jointly responsible. Otherwise, may God grant insight where men are wont to hide. We shall adjourn again upon the afternoon of the 8th.”[/b]

Sensing that nothing else was to happen, the crowd that had gathered dispersed, a few excited at all the extra drama that was tossed in by unexpectedly-involved individual, while others were laughing at the ignorance of outsiders and scoundrels. A cold-blooded murderer defending an habitual arsonist, how novel! If only they hadn’t dragged poor Bang with down with them…that was the real pity there.

Maximilien himself turned to leave too, measured gait leading him to a tower in the western corner of Bermuda’s inner circle.

Now, only those who truly cared about Jeanne remained before the ashes of her work.
[hr]Warm waters, crystal-clear and teeming with small fish, enveloped Shou as he dove into ocean that surrounded the artificial island. It was as comforting as any tropical island could be, the sandy beach dissolving into colorful coral. Even the most dangerous of fish were vibrantly colored, a far cry from the deep ocean monstrosities that he was accustomed to encountering in his early years as a sailor. If it was just for the purpose of recreation, this would be a wonderful place for a casual dip into the ocean.

But he was not here for that.

Five hundred meters off the coast of Bermuda, the gradual deepening of the sea floor underneath dropped off into the true ocean, like encountering a continental shelf. At the same time, Shou could feel a faint electric buzz teasing at his nerves, not painful in any manner, but simply…annoying. Enough so that it could dissuade larger aquatic predators, perhaps. The same sort of technology used by high-end fishing vessels to corral profitable species into the waiting nets of others. It must be what enables such a vibrant collection of species near Bermuda’s beaches. If he dug deep enough into the sand, perhaps he would find Steam Core-powered water-quality modulation devices too.

There was no sand here though. There was only the deep dark, the waters blackened by the lack of light.

So he dove. So he saw.

Five hundred meters away from the island of Bermuda proper, with hardly any light at all, it was possible only to make out the barest outline of the mechanical underbelly of the Academic City of Bermuda. How much money had it cost, to create what was essentially an [i]airship[/i] the size of a city, equip with massive Steam Cores to perpetually power the Pleizogravitas constructions that kept the entire city buoyant? If Shou had the ability to perceive the Divine Calculus as clearly as his peers, perhaps he too would have become blind. But then, a thought crossed his mind.

What could happen if a single Starsteel Sword was introduced here?

The island wouldn’t even take a minute to sink.

…

More details had to be determined, and with a flaring of his gills, a tightening of his lungs, the Egoist released a burst of sound. At the depths he could dive, echolocation was the preferred sense, the guiding post to sculpt terrain and detect prey.

But the echoes did not reach.

Within the waters [i]beneath[/i] the great artificial city, his voice did not even vibrate against the [i]border[/i].

And thus, another realization, one that explained the lack of any anchor to fix this buoyant island in place.

In a 500 meter radius of Bermuda’s coast, the ocean water was dead.