The Simulacrum

I would be the first to admit that I had many, so to speak, 'pet peeves'.

Silly Sentai genre shenanigans, tournament arcs of various flavours, relationship-drama predicated on contrived misunderstandings of any kind, authority figures scheming and stirring the pot for no logical reason… The list was much longer than that, but one thing remained constant: it was always about tropes. I couldn't help it. I had things that I liked and things that I didn't. It was like a matter of taste, like how some smart, sophisticated, charismatic and very humble people enjoyed a cup of tea, while others were objectively wrong and should be going on trial.

I kid, of course, but the pattern was still there. It was a matter of taste, and some tropes simply annoyed me on a fundamental level. I already made peace with that, but what I found alarming lately was that I started to develop a new pet peeve that wasn't directly related to writing conventions.

So, meetings. Conferences. Gatherings. Assemblages. Summits. Roundtable council colloquies.

They came in many names and wide varieties. Some were large, some were small. Some were public, while others were covert. Some were mostly well-meaning, yet others were clearly subversive. The one thing that connected all of them was, oh, for the love of god, why did we have so. Bloody. Many. Of. Them?!

This time, I was serious. I had often complained about how the Draconic Federation's Council was having meetings upon meetings upon meetings, but these days they seemed to multiply uncontrollably, like a bunch of boring, dry, incredibly drawn-out rabbits in spring! And the worst part was that it was only the tip of the iceberg!

Sure, having politicians and lawmakers regularly gather to discuss things together was an absolute necessity for society to function, so I couldn't complain about that, but the fact that I was a core member of three 'societies' meant I had to attend three times the gatherings! The Draconic Council was a given, but then I also had to attend the briefings of the Ordo Draconis, interact with the Elysium's Synedrion as Polemos, while also showing my face at the conferences of the New Noble Alliance of the Abyss as the official representative of House Inanna and (by proxy) House Ashur.

And that didn't even count the smaller-scale stuff, like having to attend the board meetings of Dragonflame Records (since I was a major shareholder), or all the courtesy calls from the Assembly arch-mages or the various Draconic clans, disguised as 'academic symposiums' or 'dinner invitations'! It was never-ending, and I was fed up with all this bloody politicking bollocks!

…

The princess was right. I really need to start actively delegating these things, or it will drive me crazy sooner rather than later.

That said, I already had ways to… 'mitigate' some of my annoyance with this state of affairs, so to say. For example, I could occasionally excuse myself by referencing some kind of other, very important thing I had to do. That excuse couldn't be overused, and there were occasions where having to sit in on one of those meetings was unavoidable, but that still wasn't a lost battle. Since I was more often than not acting like a figurehead, I rarely needed to speak up, and due to my reputation (some of it unfounded, but I digress), the times someone directly addressed me during these was even rarer. People still paid attention to me, so I couldn't just take out my phone and start throwing cartoon pigs at bird fortresses under the table, but I had other ways to pass the time during the more inane and tiresome meetings.

Simply put, they provided a perfect opportunity to use my Far Sight and peek around a bit. I promised myself to keep it to a minimum, as I could no longer use the excuse of 'I need to keep an eye on everyone, in case the narrative/plot/whatever rears its ugly head,' but… insert snappy quote about desperate times and desperate measures and whatnot here. The only problem with that? More often than not, I would stumble upon even more meetings while doing it!

Case in point:

"Rise, O Sister! Anointed, you are one of us now!"

"One of us! One of us!" the crowd chanted in unison, looking downright sinister in their hooded robes and under the gloomy lighting conditions of the… what was this place, even?

The best way I could describe it was something akin to an 'underground cathedral'. It had the three-part structure of a big church, with a long hall in the middle (I think it was called a 'nave', but don't quote me on that) and two aisles on the sides, with a big fancy altar at the far end. The whole place was lit by faux candles; white rods with some magitech bulb at their ends that gave off a faint, cold silver light. They weren't very bright individually, but there were literally hundreds of them all over the place, illuminating the throng of people lined between the large Greek-style columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The whole place was also awash with the familiar 'winged spear' iconography.

Based on what I gathered, this was the (originally secret) church of the Most Devoted Sons and Daughters of the One True Second Archon. It was… it was a cult. There was no way to go around it. It was a cult, and one dedicated to me of all people.

Previously known as the Sons of Polemos, an ancient secret society with some classic 'mystery religion' vibes on top, my cult revealed itself during the Battle of Migdál Glaukós (yes, it had a name, and no, I had no idea why). By joining the Archonists and the Celestial Military in restraining the three paranoid Chief Directors going haywire, they have become publicly accepted and have been recruiting from amongst both the general populace and the leadership in the Migdáls. There were even some voices in the Synedrion saying that they should be considered on par with the Cult of Deus, though as of now, they didn't have the numbers to go through with it.

In other words, now I had a whole religious organisation devoted to me, which might've been flattering to some, if only they weren't so… so…

"I, Adva Tira, pledge myself to the Second True Archon once more!" the hooded woman in the middle cried out in ecstasy, her hands high in the air.

"One of us! One of us!" the crowd continued to chant.

… Cringe. Yeah, that was the problem. They just made me cringe uncontrollably. I would've loved to clamp down on them somehow, but telling them not to worship me only made them more fervent (something about me being humble), and they technically weren't doing anything illegal or immoral, so I had no justification to do so.

"Now that the initiation is complete, you may walk among us in the open, sister!" the man in front of the altar exclaimed and raised both hands over his head. "Our faith grows day by day, but it's not enough! The Second True Archon, hallowed be His name, has shown us his intentions by opening the way! We must bring our wayward cousins to the fold! All of the Abyss should praise Polemos!"

"Praise Polemos!" the crowd echoed, with the woman in the front row especially shouting, "Praise him! Praise him!" over and over again, and…

…

Maybe I should try outlawing hoods? Yeah, that could be a good start. And underground churches. This may look less weird and sinister without the sickly cold-white lighting. too.

I made a mental note, then moved on, before I would suffer a cringe-induced aneurysm, and… Bloody hell, another meeting?

In front of me, inside one of the rooms of the underground base, a familiar group gathered around a rather modest round table. That was an influence of the Ordo Draconis, by the way. Most tables in there were replaced with round ones, because of iconography and consistency and whatnot. Anyhow, seven people were gathered around this one, with documents, charts, and homemade lemonade in the middle.

"Kihihi! So? Are we all in agreement on the new quarterly allocation of our funding?"

On his right, the portly old nurse let out a jovial chuckle.

"O-ho-ho! It seems quite sufficient."

"No, it's totally not," the brown-skinned girl sitting opposite to him fumed and crossed her arms with a pout. "Like, I know that our equipment, like, totally disappeared and stuff, but Leonard said it totally worked, so why are we only getting, like, seventeen percent?"

"Don't complain," the spiky-haired woman sitting next to her scoffed and readjusted her swirly goggles. "At least you've got a bit more than last quarter. We're barely scraping by at the Abnormal Biology Laboratories."

"It can't be helped," the kid in the steampunk getup next to Peabody stated a tad apologetically. "Perfecting the Bloodline Reinforcement procedure takes precedent, and we need the resources."

"I understand that, but…"

Before she could finish, the man wearing a plague doctor's beaked mask cleared his throat and said, "We all agreed on the numbers, haven't we? There's no reason to walk back now, unless you want to reassess them."

"Well, no. We're fine," Swirly Goggles capitulated, with a bit begrudgingly, and so the last person around the table also spoke up at last.

"According to my analytical engine, there's a ninety-two-point-seven percent chance that Grandmaster will approve of the budget without asking any questions."

"So there's a seven-point-three percent chance he wouldn't?" Steampunk Kid noted with mild confusion. "That's higher than usual. What gives?"

Mr Plague Doctor exhaled a long sigh and his eyes shifted over to Fred at the head of the table (as much as that applied to round ones) to say, "It's the ghost catching apparatus, isn't it?"

"Like, a what now?" Sahi blurted out, head cocked to the side.

Fred tried to reassure everyone with a harmless, "Kihihi… Just a small, personal project of mine. Nothing to worry about," but it had the opposite effect.

"I would like to remind Master that the reason why our budget has to be directly approved by Grandmaster is because of Master's secret Biomechanical Gigant Improvement Project," Galatea pointed out with a voice so deadpan it gave Judy a run for her money, putting her creator/father/whatever on guard at once.

"This one shouldn't make the Boss angry. Trust me."

"O-ho-ho? Sorry, I'm a little out of the loop. What is this all about?"

Mr Plague Doctor let out another sigh and blandly stated, "There have been rumours among the staff that there's been sporadic ghost sightings within the complex for the past couple of weeks. Friedrich is attempting to capture it, somehow."

"Not 'somehow'!" the other man objected with a grin. "With SCIENCE!"

"Like, can you even capture a ghost? Aren't they, like, totally just latent manifestations of, like, ambient mana and stuff?"

Sahi's question made Steampunk Kid nod along and add, "Precisely. Could a ghost even be contained without it just dissolving into mana?"

"Kihihi! That's what we're going to find out! For SCIENCE!" After making that declaration, Fred visibly deflated for a moment and added, "If we can find it, of course. This ghost is remarkably slippery."

"Aren't all ghosts like that?" Peabody asked, and the others shrugged more or less in unison.

"I wouldn't know. I've never met one," Mr Plague Mask admitted. "The reports are also inconclusive. The only two constants seem to be something small and white that disappears as soon as someone tries to investigate, and experimental subject P-DN6 being sighted in the area looking for something or someone."

"True," Ms Swirly Goggles interjected with a nod. "Pudding— I mean, P-DN6 had been rather agitated as of late, and its instances are patrolling the facility all the time now."

"Kihihi! Maybe it's sensitive to the ghost's presence? I've heard that animals, like cats, are like that! It purrs, so it's almost like a cat, right?"

Fred's question was followed by a long beat of silence, then Galatea spoke up with, "Master's eyesight might be deteriorating faster than my simulations predicted. Should I book an appointment with an optometrist?"

He snapped back, "Cut it out, you! I said 'almost like'! 'ALMOST'!"

"In that case," Ms Swirly Goggles interjected with sudden enthusiasm. "What do you say we create a joint research project?"

"Kihihi? That sounds great!"

Meanwhile, Mr Plague Doctor shook his head and stood up.

"Since we're done with the meaningful discussion, I must excuse myself. I still have work to do."

Steampunk Kid asked, "Are you close to a breakthrough?" with some interest, only to soon lose it when the man shook his head.

"No. Official paperwork." He let out yet another sigh. "Lord Endymonion made it look so easy, but being a school principal is hard work, especially with so many troublemakers around."

"O-ho-ho? Well, Amadeus had his fair share of troubles as well," Peabody commented on the side with an almost nostalgic bend to his lips. "I wish you the best of luck."

The masked man nodded and left, and soon the others also started clamouring to get back to their own work. Also, another note to self: bring the homunculus equipment back to the base. I took it as Bel, and I just didn't have the time to return it without raising suspicion. Oh, and speaking of Bel, I still haven't given Angie back her heirloom brow-bracelet thing either, have I? Ugh. So many things to keep track of.

At least this scene wasn't one of them anymore, so I moved on, looking for greener pastures, and… Bloody hell, another meeting?! Really?

This one was under the School, with Lord Grandpa and Gowan and the arch-mages and… no. Just no. Skip.

Let's see. Josh was… with Angie… at a joint Celestial/Abyssal conference. Also skip. Judy? Oh, conference call with the Celestial Hub members using Moose's communication orbs. Right, she did mention something about that. Also also skip. What about Elly? Oh, she wasn't at a meeting… because she was doing singing practice, which was fun to watch, but only in small doses, so… sorry, princess, but that's a skip.

Ugh. In the end, I gave up, got myself some popcorn, and settled down on the last gathering on the list. Deep within an unremarkable building at the outskirts of New Umma, the capital of House Gula. A bunch of shady people sitting around a not-at-all round table in a large, fancy room with all the curtains drawn and doors closed.

Yep. As stereotypical as a nefarious, conspiratorial gathering could get.

"… the disgrace we all suffered! I say, we remain silent no more!" the man at the head of the table orated while standing and waving an empty wine goblet around with some fervour. It was easy to tell that he had been ranting for a while now, as his voice was strained and there were big beads of sweat rolling down his flushed face.

He was rather stocky, to put it politely, which was further emphasised by the narrow cut of his elaborate gothic-style suit. He was giving his speech to a group of similarly dressed aristocrats huffing and puffing and clamouring around the table.

"He calls himself the 'Peacemaker', but he's but a petty tyrant!" the man at the head of the table bellowed and made another sweeping gesture with his goblet, and if he had anything in it, he would've soaked all the food arrayed in front of him. It was a veritable feast, with everything from whole suckling pigs to fowl roasts with those silly white things at the end of the drumsticks, but more importantly…

"Yeah! It's a stupid title!"

The rotund man snorted and leaned down, but just to hit the table with his fist, making the dishes jump.

"Who does the Celestial scum think he is, to come to our land, with his schemes and devious machinations?!"

"Yeah! The Celestials are a bunch of conniving bastards, aren't they?"

The man huffed in approval.

"Precisely! We have all felt their treachery upon our skins!" He suddenly pointed his goblet at one of the seated people. "You, Hyène! Your estate was taken from you, just because you followed your Lord to war! And you!" He pointed at a woman next. "Renard! They turned your children on you for refusing to surrender your arms! And you! You…" He pointed his goblet again, though this time he sounded less bombastic than before. "You are…? Excuse me, the gentleman with the top hat?"

"Yes?"

"Could you please take off your headwear? I can't quite see your face from here and…" He paused and squinted his eyes. "What is that in your hand?"

"Oh, this? Popcorn." The poor man looked utterly bamboozled, so I tipped my hat and asked, "Would you like some? It's great."

"… Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry. We haven't met face to face yet, have we?" This time, I fully took off my hat and flashed an innocent, friendly, and completely harmless smile. "Leonard S. Dunning, at your service. You may also know me as Polemos, the Chimera Slayer, the King of Kings, or more recently, the Peacemaker. And yes, I still think that last one's a stupid title, but it's not like I can do anything about it at this point."

My introduction resulted in a long, awkward beat of silence, eventually broken by the man at the front yelling, from the top of his lungs, "We've been compromised! Flee, everyone! Flee, and fight another d—!"

However, before he could finish screaming that, all the windows and doors around the room exploded inwards as the Praetorian Guards burst in like a whole pack of red beverage pitcher people.

"Freeze, in the name of the Second True Archon!" Armour Guy bellowed the moment he got up from his cool, dynamic three-point superhero landing, and he was followed by the other familiar faces.

"No! This can't be! We made every precaution!" one of the 'guests' cried out in despair.

"Tyranny! This is tyranny!" the round man roared even as Wetsuit Chap and Midriff Woman pushed him onto the ground to restrain him, and I could only roll my eyes.

"You tried to buy a literal suitcase nuke to blow me up, pal. Please excuse me if I don't cry a river for you."

With that, I popped another popcorn into my mouth and waited for the situation to sort itself out around me. These were all second-fiddle Abyssal nobles in their respective Houses, so while they were fairly powerful in an objective sense, they could do little when surrounded by professional Celestial agents specialised for these kinds of missions. Before long, the commotion died down, and I was approached by a rather exasperated-looking Jaakobah. It didn't stop him from giving me a salute, though.

"Lord Archon."

"At ease," I told him while finishing up the last of my snack.

"With all due respect, what are you doing here?"

"Just listening to the unfiltered woes of the Abyssal aristocracy, while also helping you guys."

He didn't look quite convinced, but I wasn't lying. Refuge in Audacity had many applications, and by infiltrating their meeting and remaining seated and relaxed like this through the whole ordeal, I planted the idea of 'we already lost' in their minds, so most of the would-be revolutionaries didn't even resist their arrest. And no, despite what Judy would say, none of that was post-hoc rationalisation.

Anyhow, Jaakobah continued to eye me skeptically, but he didn't raise an objection and only asked, "And what did you learn?"

"Mainly that we really need to finish handing power back to the New Noble Alliance, because these guys just keep popping up like mushrooms after the rain."

"Quite," he noted, then gestured at the nearby window. Or rather, the visible portal on the other side. "Lord Archon? Since you've involved yourself in the operation, I implore that you join us in the debriefing. For the peace of mind of the men, if nothing else."

"… Oh, fine, fine."

I wanted to object, but he did make a good point, and it wasn't until I stood up and crumpled up my popcorn cup that I realised what I just agreed to.

"Wait. A debriefing is a kind of meeting, isn't it?" The phlegmatic Prefect gave me an odd look, clearly considering if it was a trick question, but eventually nodded. As for me, I couldn't help but bury my face in my palm and whisper, "… Bloody hell. I just can't escape them, can I?"