Cabinet Battle #2

The Magician sat at the long table of the Major Arcana; the seat across him, Strength’s oversized seat, was one of the few empty. He stared through the empty space, a twinge of regret arcing through him as he reflected on his capturing Strength, and Strength’s resulting corruption.

The other two empty seats belonged to The Hermit and The World, both of which had the two lowest meeting attendance rates. Aside from the long table which dominated the room, four blank white walls, each enchanted for different purposes, surrounded them. The rest of it laid bare. The space was meant to be free of any distraction, a place for meeting and debate, and not much else. Their seats looked like normal swivel chairs, though enchanted for comfort and durability. All except for The Emperor, The Empress, and The Hierophant, whose lavish gold and velvet seats looked more like thrones.

The growing threat of “The Entity”, as they had taken to calling the necromancer threatening Springfield, could no longer be ignored. At the left end of the table, The Fool sat, bothering Judgement over where she got her new robes. At the right end of the table, The Emperor sat, stroking his short, gray beard. Only Strength, The World, and The Hermit are missing. Curious. Where is The Hermit? He took a prescient interest in Gaia’s champion, who in turn has been targeted by The Entity. Why would he miss this?

“You look so tense, Alvaro,” The Fool called from the left end, drawing all eyes to him. His features melted into one another until he had taken The Magician’s form, even radiating the same aura. “I’m going to go discover a lost civilization, would anyone like some tea?” The Fool asked in The Magician’s voice, and half the table was drawn to Judgement, who abruptly burst into a fit of laughter at her comrade’s actions.

“What? He’s funny,” Judgement said, nodding to The Fool, who had already begun chattering to **** on his left. She looked between The Fool and The Magician with equal admiration. On her right between her and The Magician, The Sun had his gaze lingering on her, and she elaborated, “Have to admire someone who knows their true calling.”

“Indeed,” The Sun replied, gazing at the man who by day he considered among the most entertaining of his colleagues, and by night a chattering buffoon. “We’re meeting to discuss the being threatening Springfield, yes? What’s the big deal, surely the Major Arcana posted here could handle this themselves.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” The Moon beside him chastised, “we’ve been informed that it empowered and enlisted Strength. How has such an enemy eluded us until now? How did it establish contact with him through the seals and shields The Magician and The High Priestess placed on Strength’s cell? We need more information.”

“Nahemia and I procured it,” The Magician said with a warm smile, putting a hand on The Moon’s shoulder. “We must also bolster our forces. To that end-”

“Hold it, you said our enemy has enlisted Strength? His fighting prowess is scarcely rivaled, even among our numbers,” The Star said, and made a note to relay this information to his master later. Perhaps The World will be needed after all.

“We must bring our full **** down upon them,” The Devil insisted, “give them no quarter. Fate has brought us together, and we will strangle our enemy with this thread.”

“We must be cautious,” Temperance advised, looking from The Devil on her left to The High Priestess on her right. One organic, brown eye looked at her colleagues, the other a cybernetic white, scanning them for any magical control, no doubt worried another might be plotting against them. “Putting a body of forces in a large scale attack on an enemy that remains largely unknown would be suicide. We should send a few spies to figure out more. Who will run the selection process for the Espionage subdivision in Strength’s absence?”

“I believe Alvaro has some words about that,” The High Priestess commented, though the other continued on with their conversations; The Magician gave her a thankful nod.

“Every moment we spend here is another away from our patients,” The Lovers said in unison, gazing upon their compatriots with looks ranging from disapproval to admiration. “We will overcome this as we have all our problems.”

“All this hot air is frustrating,” The Chariot agreed through clenched teeth. “We shall have our retribution on this foe for stealing one of our own. War or stealth? Who cares. We know where their base of operations is, why don’t we destroy it?”

“One hundred percent chance of the Entity’s survival from such an attack,” The Wheel of Fortune frowned, a row of Rider-Waite tarot cards floating in front of his face, “that’s a terrible idea. I’m all for leaving things to chance but not when that chance is zero.”

“In this case I must agree with The Chariot, this transgression cannot go unchecked. Our enemy has bolstered their forces, and now our reputation is on the line,” Justice said, weighing the options in her head. “With his methodology, however, I must disagree. An expedient deployment of our best spies should be our course.”

“Why bother with a frontal **** anyway?” The Hanged Man asked, looking at each of his allies. “The enemy will come to us eventually. They have bolstered their forces, true, but we can do the same. Many of our bases are overstaffed, the Springfield base is new and has many unfilled slots. If the danger is here, bring our forces here. Focus on protecting what we have. We may give up the first move, but as an interdimensional guild with the resources of a wealthy nation, surely we could then put them on the backfoot?”

“You all fail to see one thing: this enemy corrupted Strength. What of our other prisoners? Our own forces? What is to stop them from taking all that we have? The bulk of our forces are made up of Four of Swords and below. Half of those are Two of Swords, who are not much stronger than a mundane soldier. Are we willing to put their mortality in the hands of an unknown enemy?” **** asked, and the table went quiet for a few moments before erupting once again in overlapping conversations and arguments.

“Enough!” The Emperor roared, and the room quieted down, his council bowing to his authority. “Alvaro, Nehemia, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, milord,” The Magician replied, floating out of his seat to the opposite side of their conference room, behind Strength’s empty seat. Nahemia joined him, sending a bolt of mana to each corner of the wall and turning it into a scrying screen.

“As many of you know, for the past couple of months Springfield has been harassed by a necromancer **** unassociated Abyssals, those who it believed wouldn’t be missed. Most recently, it **** a woman which our organization has purchased technology from on occasion; Temperance, I believe you’ve dealt with her personally. Neve?” The Magician said, an image of the cyborg in question appearing behind him.

“Indeed. Not a very powerful woman, or friendly. Her magitech prostheses are highly customizable and second to none. I offered her a place among us, and she refused. It saddens me to hear of her abduction.” Temperance nodded, thinking of the brief meeting she had with the antisocial woman. “Perhaps retrieving it in person would not have been a waste of my time after all…” she mumbled, the others already focusing on The Magician again.

“Unfortunately for the entity, these abductions have not gone unnoticed. In conjunction with The Golden Rose, we have kept close tabs on all known Abyssals in Springfield, and they have slowly been disappearing. A few scattered individuals remain, though little of note. A small, local guild, Collide, and a freelance alchemist which we have dealt with before. The people which it abducts have never been seen again. As far as we know, this activity has been restricted to Springfield, and we intend to keep it that way. To that end, Nahemia and I analyzed the residual mana left behind in Strength’s cell, and compared it with a database at The Tower. I will let her take over from here,” The Magician explained, stepping aside and giving The High Priestess the floor.

“Upon inspection, this entity’s mana signature is familiar, yet foreign. It has recognizable pieces, but nothing exactly matching anything that has been seen before.” Strength’s cell appeared behind her, zooming in to a tendril of residual mana lining the wall. The image continued to grow, zooming further to show a tangle of multicolored, twisting wires. The scene of The Entity contacting Strength and twisting his desires to enslave him played before them.

“It has the shaping characteristics of a genie, but the utilization of faith energy is similar to a god. It is neither of these things, but something new entirely. A being that feeds on desire, and gains the same power it grants. Dangerous similarly to an unbound genie, but more malevolent by nature. If left unchecked, this being will spread across the world like a cancer, converting those susceptible to its cause and destroying those who are not. We have to defeat it before it grows beyond the scope of Springfield.” Nahemia’s impassioned plea fell on the ears of a half terrified, half interested Major Arcana.

“Aha! I was right! It is a corruptor,” **** rejoiced, then read the room and went back to looking pensive. “So, ahem, what do we do?”

“I believe The Hanged Man has the wisest path here. It is impossible to know who of our forces would be susceptible to such magic. Many people join our guild due to ambition. It could be all of us, for all we know. I nominate that we send spies to The Entity’s ranks, and decide further based on what information they can provide us in one week,” The Magician proposed, the scrying screen behind him shutting off with a narrow flash of light, much like an old television.

There was a general murmur of agreement to this, and The Empress spoke up, “Let’s put it to a vote then. All for sending a squad of spies to garner information, say aye.”

“Aye,” All but The Chariot and The Hierophant said at once, and so with approval from The Emperor and The Empress, it was decided.

“On a related note, I have a nomination for a council member to fill the place of Strength. Many of us have worked alongside her. I formally submit Isabelle Ardyn as a temporary member of the Major Arcana, taking the role of Strength,” The Magician concluded, taking out a manilla envelope from inside his robes and tossing it onto the table, a picture of Isabelle’s profile half spilling out. A few people looked as though they were ready to tear The Magician to shreds, but most of them glanced at her file thoughtfully before returning to the man and his proposal.

“Very well. Alvaro, state your case,” The Emperor demanded, leaning back in his throne, his words silencing any immediate argument.

“Does the Major Arcana find the following statements agreeable? That the prerequisite for holding the position of Strength is power. Courage. Honor. That in this time of danger and corruption, a loyal, upstanding member is vital for preserving the sanctity of our inner circle. That I am the most familiar with the individuals of the Minor Arcana, the lifeblood of our guild?” The Magician asked, The High Priestess nodding as she slinked back to her seat. A few murmurs ran through the crowd, particularly from The Lovers and The Chariot, but everyone ended up agreeing.

“Isabelle fits all of these characteristics perfectly. Few if any among the Minor Arcana rival her power, and she comes close to the lowest standard some of our less combat oriented members set. Personally trained by myself, The Emperor, Strength, The Chariot, Justice, Judgement, and The World. Those present can attest to her power themselves. Just as the previous Strength, even without any magic she is a **** to be reckoned with, capable of slaying Ancient Dragons and top Extinction King assassins,” The Magician explained, pausing, as was customary, to allow argument.

“Basing your argument on her similarities to the previous holder might be more of a drawback than a benefit, all things considered,” The Hierophant finally spoke, glaring at The Magician.

“The rules of this guild as The Emperor drafted them states that these seats are granted based on precedent. We all serve a purpose. Strength is a seat held by the Swords combat expert which relies on muscle over mind. She is at the forefront of such candidates,” The Magician replied, meeting his half-enemy’s glare with a bright smile.

“But she does use magic,” The Chariot interrupted, sitting up and leaning toward The Magician, the armor he still wore from combat clunking and creaking. “I’ve seen it myself. She has little combat magic, but she relies an awful lot on that teleportation spell.”

“This is true, but the stipulation that Strength uses little magic is under the assumption that it is magic of mortal domain. As a champion, suppressing that very teleportation spell can only be done by a Kingdom’s throne, another champion’s magic, or direct divine intervention. That teleportation spell is an asset, and even without it she has combat speed that rivals our own,” The Magician argued, and The Chariot settled back down, grumbling but presenting no further argument.

“Furthermore, again and again she rises to challenge after challenge, using that very teleportation ability to rapidly move between our bases on Earth and provide those off-world and on with desperately needed reinforcements. In the past month alone, she has saved two hundred and fifty guild members from certain **** at the hands of unforeseen foes. Some more than once. Always charging in regardless of what information or lack thereof we have. Bravery scarcely shown in the Abyss at large, let alone our own guild.” At this there were many nods, from Major Arcana members who partially managed the Swords division and had read her reports and those who partially managed the Cups division and treated injuries that would be far worse if not for her.

“And honor. Let me remind you that she has done all of this without taking a single life. That of the high-profile prisoners we have acquired in the past year, a fourth or more have been a result of her contracts, or interference in contracts. Who captured the traitor Strength had manipulated? Isabelle. Who captured the assassin in Jarako that had killed a dozen of our guild members? Isabelle. Never straying from her morals. Justice, Judgement, you both have borne witness to the strict adherence she practices, and being incentivized to do so even further by the justice which her goddess upholds. What more can we ask for?”

“That’s just it exactly,” The Chariot spat, slamming his fist on the table, “she has a goddess. She’s a champion. You speak of loyalty, but everyone here knows that if it came to Astra or us, she’d never choose us. Is that loyalty?”

“Frankly, sir, if our goals were so misaligned with that of the Goddess of Justice that Isabelle chooses to actively work against us, then I would reevaluate our goals,” The Magician responded, venom now seeping into his words, “or would you rather have the old Strength back?”

“Alvaro.”

“As I was saying. In the name of justice and to further our goals, she was willing to fight and subdue her own family. What more do you need to see her dedication to the cause, the just cause which we all fight for?” He scanned the crowd, but The Chariot was too angry to put together a coherent sentence, and The Hierophant wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Nothing further.”

After a considerable silence in which none present decided to test their debate skills against the man with multiple centuries of knowledge, The Emperor finally spoke, “We shall put it to a vote. All in favor of Isabelle as interim Strength, say aye.”

“Aye,” said The Magician, Justice, The High Priestess, Judgement, Temperance, The Star, The Lovers, The Wheel of Fortune, The Hanged Man, and ****.

“As The World and The Hermit are not in attendance, they have relinquished their right to vote. As such, The Magician has a majority vote. I approve of this. Empress?” The Emperor asked, turning to his other half. She considered the room, then locked eyes with The Magician.

“I will decide… later,” The Empress declared, getting up and leaving. Shocked by the action, the dissenters left with her, quickly followed by most of the other Major Arcana, ready to get back to their busy schedules.

“We will reconvene tomorrow, with the Empress’ decision,” The Emperor declared to the backs of his council as they left.

“Alvaro, to me,” The Emperor said, the only people left in the room were him, The Magician, and The Fool. “You need to keep it together. You’ve done better than that.”

“So we’re all subject to the Empress’ whims? Our entire guild?” The Magician demanded, then shrank under the withering gaze of The Emperor.

“Watch it. You need her vote,” The Emperor said, resting his fist against his chin.

“We need Isabelle as Strength. The Chariot, The Sun and I have done our best to take his workload in his absence, but the strain is showing,” The Magician let out, sinking into The Hierophant’s throne.

“You need to convince her that Isabelle is the right course of action. Nothing happens without my and The Empress’ approval. You know that. Show her a united front,” The Emperor said, rising from his chair, his age suddenly much more apparent on his face.

“Strength’s associates hardly even talk to me! They hate it because it wasn’t their idea. They’re inflexible,” The Magician claimed, the faces of The Hierophant and The Devil flashing through his mind.

“There is a compromise,” The Emperor insisted, looking at the silent figure of The Fool across the table from them.

“They have no replacement. They’re just voting against Isabelle to spite me.”

“Kill them with kindness. Isn’t that your specialty?” His mouth quirked at the corner, the beginning of a smile. “You can do this, Alvaro. I believe it. The years and the various lives have made you tired. They think your kindness makes you weak. Show me the scrappy kid with fire in his eyes. Show your peers. The Chariot won’t be convinced with words.”