Zeroth Directive

Archive II

'This familiar plastic smell! These were wings from that batch of drones that got scrapped in Londinium! Who put them on my back? I can't reach them...' 'Why take them off? Those lovely wings suit you perfectly, Closure.' 'A blood crystal... yours? You're giving it to me?' 'Don't be silly, Warfarin. This is your own blood, which you extracted the other day for your experiments.' 'My broken ring! You made it so beautiful...' 'Rings should be beautiful, Amiya.' 'Mon2tr's crystalline structure... Where did you find the materials for this crown?' 'The place of your last rebirth, of course... But that's not the point, is it, Kal'tsit? Turn and let me see you from the side.' Many Rhodes Island operators have suddenly found themselves in possession of unexpected accessories, always accompanied by an admiring Vampire. [Audio Log] Careful about your head, Doctor. We wouldn't want your hair getting caught in it... There you go. Looks good. A shame you're always wearing that hood. But then, the natural choice for an accessory is an adjustable buckle for it. You're asking what materials I used? Take a closer look. It's the empty Sanity Potion ampoules you've been using. There were plenty in the trash bin. A practical joke, you say? Hardly. I wear things like these myself. For example, this 'Little Garnet'. You like it too? It may be the crystallization of filthy blood, but there's nothing ugly about it. Unfortunately, my sisters do not agree. They're tactful enough—or perhaps scared enough—to not ask why I wear it, but cannot hide the abhorrence in their eyes when they see it. The reason is simple. Pure-blood Vampires seek perfection, and those who seek perfection cannot tolerate any flaw. Over and over they admire the pure blood flowing in their veins, but pay no heed to the filthy blood created in the purification process. Hard to understand, isn't it? The perfection that Vampires seek is beyond the comprehension of most. Even I cannot put into words the beauty that is the end of such 'purification' and 'elevation'. Beauty at this level is dependent solely on the subject's own convictions, the single fleck of meaning we found on this gray land. Personally though, I appreciate the desire for meaning more than that perfect conclusion. The beauty lies in the movement. And the only thing that has born witness to that desire is the filthy blood that is filtered and discarded in the purification process. What could be a more perfect accessory than imperfection itself? Ah, yes. Hm? You wish to give a gift in return? But this is not a gift. These accessories are simply a game for me to pass the time. It is not yet time to bestow you an actual gift.

Archive III

[Classified Log] Don't bother. Rose Riverside left barely any paper trail, preferring to trust their own memories. Did you bring pen and paper? I can tell you a little about Entelechia's past. She was a veteran member of Rose Riverside. Specifically, one of the founders, who did their cleanup work for all the years they existed. She received intel from the returning Canoes, and made sure it went to the right place at the right time. If a Canoe caused a bigger ripple than desired, she would calm the waters. If you make some believe certain stories, and others forget certain truths, then even a murder can be made to have never happened. Whenever a Canoe sank into the river of blood, she was the one to dredge the remains. Recover the body, recover the identity, recover the intelligence. Clean up the evidence, clean up the trail, clean up the witnesses. If possible, she would also eliminate whoever killed one of their own. Entelechia is far more meticulous than any of us can imagine. The proud Canoes of Rose Riverside either left no trail, or Entelechia took care of it. Seven days after Adeline went missing, a woman knocked on my door, blood dripping from her. At first, I was bewildered, unsure whether she was a victim or a murderer, and whether I should bring her inside or slam the door. But she had a familiar scent on her, one that reminded me of Adeline. So I mustered the courage to ask if she was a friend or family of hers, and whether she knew where she went. There was no change in her expression, but I could see her finger touch that massive scythe behind her. I wanted to run, but only then did I realize that I had hardly eaten for the past week, and there was no strength left in my legs. But she did not use her scythe. 'Adeline said you had a good nose. It seems she was right.' She showed a faint smile and handed me a letter with a tiny bottle. 'There was an... accident. This letter records her last words. As for the bottle... you will know from the smell.' I did. I would still recognize it in a thousand years. I wished it was just some cosmetic that she used, or anything that had her scent on it, but I was struck by a terrible thought. I was certain it was her... 'My condolences for your loss.' She closed the door. I never heard any footsteps as she left. I don't remember how long I stood there at the door, or whether I cried at all. My first thought when I came to my senses was that I should find a rag and wipe up the blood she left at the door, before it dried. So I opened it up only to find that the tiles were spotless, not a single speck of blood on them. It was like everything that happened was just a dream. Then, another thought occurred to me: it was time to find something to eat. And life went on. —Interview with a certain Victorian about a former lover. The log was intercepted by Entelechia before making its way into the files of Victorian intelligence. [Classified Log] 'I wrote the letter and used her blood for the ashes. That's all there is to it. I wasn't under the impression that I needed to report something this trivial to you.' 'I told you that you didn't need to wipe away all the traces of the dead, Entelechia, not that you had to manage every relationship she left behind. It was a relationship established as needed for the mission, with someone who had nothing to do with Rose Riverside. He never even knew the true name of his beloved.' 'You needn't worry about me leaving any unnecessary trail. I simply believe that a relationship should be allowed to come to a proper conclusion. Even an outsider deserves an explanation, a final farewell.'

Archive IV

[Audio Log] Would you like to hear a bedtime story, Amiya? There was once a Vampire princess who liked to ask people a question: 'What is a farewell?' The Sanguinarch of the Vampires denied that farewell had meaning. Those who did not walk the path of purification with him were not worth another glance. The Patriarch of the Nachzehrer denied that farewell had meaning. The dead become nutrition for new life, and the cycle of life continues, always a unified whole. The General of Kazdel denied that farewell had meaning. He knew how many partings the path he chose would create. The only farewell he would allow himself is to walk the path to the bitter end, regardless of the cost. Only the King of the Sarkaz did not deny the meaning of farewell. She did not want to interpret parting and mitigate its sorrows, and so she never parted without saying farewell. In that instant, the princess found her answer. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned towards me. She did not ask my thoughts, only probed my veins with threads of blood, bringing out the departed whom I thought I had long forgotten. Family lost to Catastrophe in my childhood, and friends whose remains I had dissolved with my own hands not so long ago. Then she caressed my cheeks with threads of blood, bringing back drops of tears I had forgotten, and asked me to observe their gleam under the sun. The princess said she wanted me to understand farewell, to understand sorrow, and to together bear witness to the realization of Her Highness Theresa's dream. And so I became Rose Riverside's cleaner. I did not know why Her Highness held such beliefs, or why the princess identified with them. But I've become only too familiar with farewells and sorrow, to the point that the blood crystals left behind by my departed sisters ring in my head even when the wind does not blow. The same sorrow rings in your head, too, doesn't it? I can see the changes in you. I can smell your blood, no longer that sweet and sour scent of childhood. That's how people are. It does not always take burdensome deliberation and debate to willingly embark on a path of no return. Sometimes, all it takes is one person, one sentiment, and a little push. Scary, isn't it? We should all be careful of the ties we make with others, shouldn't we? Entelechia rarely talks about herself, and when she does, her secretive nature causes her to instinctively mix leading language into sincere pleas. I strongly suggest approaching her with caution, Amiya. Entelechia never fully commits herself to a cause. Her position depends solely on her promises with others. This makes her absolutely reliable in some ways, and utterly unpredictable in others. Her various vows are complex and intertwining, and there is no way to know where they will lead her. Only Entelechia herself knows the answer. —Kal'tsit Or perhaps not even her. —■■■

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