-H.L. Mencken

For the next several minutes, aside from Tricia's occasional narration to her drones, there was very little talking. John was embarrassedly restoring his attire to its rightful state, Maera and Mithra were more than happy to continue lounging in the sun while half-asleep, and it seemed as if Tricia was simply content to ignore the obvious discomfort John felt in favor of documenting everything.

"Tricia… about what you said earlier-"

"No, John, I do not actually intend to develop a machine to inspect the exact parameters of your creations' sexual organs," Tricia said, sighing. "I only wish to have data relevant to a general overview - while a more specific reproductive study might prove useful for certain hypotheses I may formulate, it would not be particularly useful in proving the existence of a functioning creature created by your Purify ability."

"About that… you mentioned earlier that you wanted to prove that they really existed, so you needed as much data as possible to back up your claims. You're not going to actually tell people, are you? Because Moira says that could be very, very dangerous."

Tricia paused for a moment, her drones hovering around her in silence as she seemed to contemplate something. When she eventually came to a verdict on whatever question she'd posed herself, instead of simply stating it, she slowly stepped over to John, turning her head to cast an eye over her shoulder.

"Disable all recording until manual override, both audio and video."

The drones whirred, momentarily halting their repeated circles. Tricia walked toward John until she was inches away, until John could nearly feel her breath on his face when she spoke. Then she leaned in even closer, until her head was right next to his, Tricia's lips actually tickling John's ear as she spoke.

"I would never publish this information until your abilities become public knowledge. I merely wish to prepare myself for that inevitability. Moira is right - your abilities will make you a target, but it will not only be others you must worry about. Many will seek to use your powers for their own gain… be very careful of any bargains you would make with those that seek to protect you."

Tricia leaned away and strolled back to her drones while John was still trying to contemplate the meaning behind what she'd just said, and with just a few words, her drones were floating and recording again, so he didn't even dare to ask what exactly she had meant. What she had implied seemed fairly obvious, but... no, with the way she'd just been acting, John couldn't even question whether Moira would manipulate him or not. She seemed quite determined to risk Maera, Mithra, Lunaya, and Seras' lives for the sake of the Order. Whatever she had in mind, John could not allow that. He had no idea why he'd received these powers, or what purpose they served in the greater world, but he would not allow them to become pawns in anyone's war.

"I'm going to find Moira… go for a walk. All of you should stay here."

John didn't wait for a response. Tricia was too busy dealing with her recordings and the Nekos were content to lay about. John wasn't entirely sure where to find Moira, but he had an idea. Traipsing through the woods somewhat blindly, he was fortunate enough to stumble upon her after only a few minutes. Once he was close enough, it actually wasn't that hard - Moira was pacing rather loudly, her steps resonating through the woods noisily enough that John honed in on her when he couldn’t' even see her through the trees.

"Finished with your fleshlight?" As John approached, he hadn't known quite what to say, but Moira's words triggered an aggressive response in John he'd certainly not planned on when he started to seek her out.

"Finished with your tantrum? We may yet have time for a nap and to burp you before we return to your manor."

Moira's sarcastically raised eyebrow immediately devolved into a knotted glare of fury, her anger reaching all the way to her lips as she tightened her cheeks and frowned. If John weren't so caught off guard by his own brazenness, he might've backed down from her unspoken challenge, but instead he held his ground.

"John, many mages have abilities that can alter the world. Few are so foolish as to grow attached to their own manifestations of power and risk **** or loss of their close allies for the sake of not harming a mere familiar."

John could have gotten angry, but he'd already snapped once. He called upon every ounce of willpower he had to take the high road and turn the other cheek. Somewhat literally, as he half-turned from Moira and pointed to the horizon.

"Moira… walk with me. I have something you should see. Something I hope will make you reconsider."

John didn't wait for a response. If Moira would not grant him the opportunity to show her his way of thinking, there was nothing for them to discuss. All the same, as he cleared the treeline and headed back toward the lake, he was pleased to hear Moira's footsteps not too far behind. She remained mostly silent as they plodded across the tall grass of the plains, only occasionally grumbling. John didn't stop until his feet hit something solid - until he was standing upon the malformed base of his failed attempt at building a home. Moira stepped up beside him, just far enough back to avoid stepping on the platform. John gazed out toward the lake and eventually took one deep breath to compose himself before speaking.

"You asked me once what I intended to do with my powers. What I would use them for, what I wanted now that my life was completely changed forever. I found my answer, Moira, at least for the time being. This is what I wanted to do, this is all I really wanted out of my abilities."

"A slab of wood?" Moira asked irreverently. John didn't turn, but he could feel her questioning glance. She didn't continue, waiting for his clarification.

"A home."

"You have a home," Moira prompted. John turned and saw her looking somewhat concerned, but perhaps just a bit more annoyed than anything. "Your mother is waiting for you there now, and she-"

"Not for me," John corrected. He tapped his foot on the wood and glanced toward the campsite. "For them. For Maera, Mithra, and Lunaya. Maybe Seras, too, if she preferred it when it’s finished. All they know is this world, and the sanctity of my own bedroom closet in the case of my lonely little vampiress. They deserve more than that."

"John… you don't have to give them a home, they're not-"

"They're not what, Moira?" John interrupted, stepping forward. As his feet left the wood, he approached Moira until they were standing face to face, inches apart. The Warden's sturdiness was never in question, but for once John felt as if he could no longer rely on her. For the first time since they met, John felt that her pillar of strength was blocking his path, rather than holding him up.

"They're not human, John. They're not real, they're just things you made."

"We're all things someone made, Moira," John whispered, shaking his head. "Just because they were made with a spell instead of a moment of lust does not make them any less real. Being inhuman does not make them any less real. They think, they feel, they learn… they aren't even things I can command; if they didn't need me to survive here, Lunaya might not even want anything to do with me. If I could release them into the real world without putting them and myself in danger, I'd probably do that. I'm not cut out for this, I didn't ask for it, but they're my responsibility. They feel pain, they feel sadness, and I have to watch all of it, but you would ask me to put their lives on the line?"

Moira's gaze had been uncertain, but at John's final question it hardened beyond anything he'd seen her display before.

"I put my life on the line for the Order every single day. I put others' lives on the line. Every. Single. Day. But you would place their lives above mine, above every man and woman who serves my Order, because you feel responsible for them? I cannot count on two hands the number of soldiers I am responsible for that I have buried, John Newman."

John hesitated, unmoved in his feelings for his creations but not wanting to downplay or lessen the significance of the sacrifices Moira had made. John didn't doubt them, either; he'd seen firsthand how dangerous even a single battle could be against the forces that Moira's Order opposed.

"It's not just that. If they believed in your cause, if they wanted to serve, I would never stop them. They follow me into dungeons all the time, and I wouldn't let Lunaya stop them even though she was legitimately worried about their safety. I brought them into this world; they didn't have a choice. I will do my best to make sure they have every choice from here on out. Anyone who tries to take their decisions away from them? I will fight them with every fiber of my being."

"You stand upon the threshold of greatness, John Newman. You have the ability to create an endless army, limited only by your own ability to provide basic necessities," Moira said, casting her eyes down. "You have innate magic that is as great or greater than most can claim to possess and more than some can handle after years of training. Yet you care not for what wrongs you could right, what justice you could mete out upon the cruel world that surrounds you.

"Instead you seek to provide only a happy and enjoyable life for those who depend on you… but that cannot come without a price. Will you watch those who you care for burn when the flames of war come to their doorstep, John Newman? Even if this Barrier of yours is different and unique, eventually it will be penetrated. The Abyss has no morals or base humanity that will prevent them from claiming what they want and slaughtering what they do not, merely to keep it out of the hands of others. If you will not use your creations to fight back the tides of darkness that wash upon all shores of righteousness, who will defend them? Who will right the wrongs of the world when they finally crash upon your doors?"

"I will."

Moira laughed, a genuine if sarcastic chuckle as she reached to her neck and gently toyed with the pendant on her neck.

"I am the Shield Warden of the Golden Rose. My heritage, my very duty, is to stand against the evils that threaten to consume this world… and even I cannot protect everyone. Those I care for and those under my protection still die, and I can do nothing but watch. What will you do when this world is discovered? When it is invaded, and when those you love are in danger?"

"I'll fight with everything I have. Just as I fought for you," John reminded her, none too gently.

"And when you are not successful? I haven't forgotten what you've done for me, John Newman. Nor has my Order. But you cannot think yourself infallible. What will you do when someone takes what you care for from you? When someone takes this world from you?"

"If someone takes my world from me…" John mused, repeating the question as he considered his answer. He wanted something more stoic, more certain, but he couldn't deny that even those few opponents he had faced so far would threaten this world if they ever discovered it. The idea of that Albidian mage coming here, tearing John's world apart and killing those he cared for… he could find only one answer to that.

"If someone takes my world from me, I will burn theirs to the ground and dance on the ashes of what remains."

John must have heard the words somewhere before. He couldn't place it, but it seemed so familiar and right he was certain it was not his first encounter with them. All the same, he couldn't say they were wrong. Moira seemed to feel it too, for she said nothing.

"I will not make anyone fight for a cause they do not believe in, even to defend those I care about."

"Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary to protect what we love," Moira whispered.

"My… my father, a long time ago, told me something about sacrifices," John muttered. It was a lesson he'd never had much use for. What had he, in his sheltered life, ever sacrificed? Now it seemed more important than he could've imagined, and he only wished he'd paid more attention.

"It was something along the lines of… 'There is no such thing as a 'necessary' sacrifice. We don't have a choice in things that are necessary. If it is not our choice, we do not sacrifice, we are taken from.’ I… I think he might have put it better. I won't take away anyone's choices, Moira. But if you want a weapon, use me."

"You?" Moira asked, the first touch of real humor entering her voice. "John, you may have a great willpower to you, but you have a long way to go before you can handle most of the Cabal's soldiers, much less the rest of the evils the Order faces."

"I know. But if it means protecting those I care about, I will become strong. I want to build a home for them, but if you need someone to protect yours, too…"

John held out his arm, fingers outstretched toward the Warden. Although her methods and arguments might have been utilitarian and cold, John saw something similar in Moira's eyes then. John hated the part of her that wanted to use his friends for her own gain, but beneath that… Moira was doing all she could to protect her own home. So was John. If he were put on a different path, if their roles were reversed, he couldn't say with any certainty he wouldn't try to convince Moira to do what he himself refused. Unable to condemn Moira, he did the only other thing he could do. As his fingers reached toward Moira, the words of a certain Gorbachev rang in his ear.

"I will make your home, your Order, mine to protect, if only you'll do the same for mine. Consider my friends and creations as the people they truly are, do not try to manipulate them. Protect my world, and I swear I will protect yours. I did not intend to grow stronger for my own sake, Moira… but for you, and for them, I will."

Moira was silent for a long time. John could not pretend to see what was going on behind her eyes, deep in the mind of a woman whose only thought seemed to be the protection and advancement of her own causes, but John knew someone fighting against themselves. All he could do was hold his arm out and continue waiting.

"…I cannot claim to understand you, John Newman. But perhaps that is a fault of mine and not yours. I will not pretend that I will not hold you accountable for your decision. But it is not mine to make, and I have no power to **** you to change it. Join our Order, swear to always protect it if it is within your power and to try even when it is not, and I will consider you and all your creations as our own. I would prefer to have you use those abilities of yours in full, but… if you will not give us an army, I would accept a friend.”

John beamed as Moira finally reached out her hand, clasping his firmly in her hand.

"Thank you, Moira. I will never forget this."

Rank Gained!
Order of the Golden Rose rank obtained: Knight.
Benefits: Access to Brighton Mansion Armory, Barracks, guard posts, and all non-personal living quarters. +10 to all stats when fighting on the Order's soil or to defend a helpless member of the Order.

"Nor will I, John," Moira said, both a promise and a warning.