Port Podesta
Present
Tavis' welcome banquet proceeds as planned. Helentine stands with you, helping with the final preparations.
The objective tonight is to extract as much useful information as possible. To do that, you first need to look like you belong here.
No need to worry, [player name]. It suits you.
She reaches out and adjusts your tie with a light, precise touch, nothing more than needed. Then she steps back and looks you over, as if running a final check.
Just mind the etiquette once we're inside. People from the TEC used to care quite a bit about these things.
Like I mentioned earlier, hold the glass by the stem, not the bowl.
She pauses for a beat. Her voice stays flat.
I'm not, really.
Helentine takes out her ever-present notebook and flips to a page with practiced ease.
I'm just following what my notes say. Truth is, I'm not very good at this sort of thing either.
Working as an advisor in the military isn't just about combat operations. Sometimes diplomacy is part of the job too.
So... all of this is just what I've written down over time. Every time I got something wrong.
On the page, a short list of menu items sits beside a few scattered, careless crosses.
I could never remember which course to start with, or whose glass is supposed to be higher when you toast.
Honestly... I'd rather fight Corrupted than put on a smile and trade pleasantries with strangers. At least combat is straightforward.
Diplomacy is the fastest way to end a war.
Conflict is never as simple as one side winning and the other losing. Most of the time, both sides bleed. Whoever bleeds less just calls themselves the victor.
So if diplomacy can settle something and reduce the fighting, I'm willing to do it. Even if I don't enjoy it. Even if I'm not that skilled at it.
She pauses and looks at you. At last, the faintest hint of a smile touches her lips.
Does that sound like something a diplomacy advisor would say?
The banquet's about to begin, [player name]. Stay sharp.
Inside the banquet hall, guests in suits and gowns murmur in low voices beneath the crystal chandeliers.
The soft light shifts across their faces, making everyone look polite and perfectly in place.
But when scraps of those hushed conversations drift to your ears, something about them feels subtly wrong.
Let me give you the most direct, no-nonsense answer I can!
I believe aligning with Babylonia is a sound decision!
Now that, at least, sounded genuine.
I'm not flattering you, by the way. I'm offering my honest opinion.
What Port Podesta needs is reform!
But I can't pretend this isn't a complex issue. Port Podesta's problems run deep.
You've hit on exactly the right point. Straight to the heart of it.
Port Podesta's resource situation is critical. Shall I elaborate?
Each reply lands like an answer, but somehow answers nothing.
Father hasn't made an appearance yet.
Aside from us, the guests here are almost all from the TEC.
A few familiar faces. Not many.
And... the way they're talking is strange...
The Port Podesta I remember... wasn't like this.
Familiar faces...
With practiced caution, Helentine threads a path through the guests and brings you to a stop in front of an old man.
It's been a while, Mr. Caspar Erhorn. I didn't expect to see you here. You look well. Do you have a moment?
Helentine.
It has been a while. The last time we met must have been around the outbreak, I think.
Caspar Erhorn lifts his glass in greeting, his eyes quietly appraising you as he does.
And who's this?
[player name], the Gray Raven Commandant.
I've heard a great deal about you.
Mr. Erhorn, I'll cut to the chase.
Babylonia has detected unusual Punishing Virus activity in the vicinity of Port Podesta.
You've been here longer than I have. Have you noticed anything off?
Unusual? Define "unusual." At a function like this, anyone who can't hold a straight conversation for more than two sentences counts as off, if you ask me. Which is just about everyone here.
The family's already a disaster, and there's hardly a soul worth talking to in this room... Otherwise, you wouldn't find me over here drinking alone.
Caspar lifts his glass and takes a small sip.
It sounds like you've found yourself with more free time these days.
Free time? Who has free time anymore? Either the Punishing Virus has killed you, or it's well on its way... Heh. I'm just holed up here, surviving on borrowed time.
As for your question, you should speak with your father.
He's the one running Port Podesta, after all. And from what I hear... he's apparently resumed some kind of research lately.
That's why he called me here. Said he plans to unveil some new findings.
Can't say it interests me much personally, but Babylonia tends to take notice of these things, don't they?
At that moment, a stranger cuts into the conversation without warning.
Mr. Erhorn, you're needed over there.
Caspar offers an awkward smile.
My apologies. I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave.
Wait—
Helentine's words are barely out when another server abruptly steps in and cuts her off.
As if it were all deliberately orchestrated.
Is everything alright, ma'am? If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask!
Throughout the banquet hall, the servers' glances keep drifting your way, each look held a beat too long.
...Ever since we started talking to Caspar, someone over there has been watching us.
Helentine moves through the banquet with practiced ease, her voice dropping to a low murmur.
He's probably had eyes on us since the moment we stepped off the plane.
Her voice carries no inflection. She might as well be stating a fact she has always known.
He's monitoring our movements. Maybe he's connected to the anomalies in Port Podesta?
Let's keep gathering what we can from the banquet.
[player name], wait here a moment. I want to test something.
Helentine nods, her gaze darting sideways for an instant. A small cluster of familiar guests are gathered there, looking in your direction.
With a brief nod, Helentine walks toward a different group of guests chatting nearby.
Good evening. May I join you?
The guests stare at Helentine for a second, then their faces shift into something close to a standard, practiced smile.
Of course, ma'am. We were just getting started.
Lovely evening, isn't it? What do you want to talk about? Do share.
Any interesting stories about Port Podesta? I've only just arrived.
You've come to the right person, then.
A little-known fact: Port Podesta ranks among the top ports in the Transatlantic Economic Community for cargo throughput. In recent years, with the accelerated development of Constellia, trade volume has continued to climb and is expected to hit new highs.
Economic growth that reaches all levels of society is a sign of true progress. Under Mr. Spelmin's leadership, Port Podesta's future looks bright.
No pause, no emphasis. They sound like they are reading straight from an official brief.
I see. Thank you...
Without another word, Helentine raises her glass, a small gesture of parting, and slips away.
...Like it was rehearsed. We're not getting anything out of them.
But I think you can see what I was getting at earlier.
The building isn't very tall. The restroom window leads straight outside.
A tiny mechanical spider crawls onto Helentine's fingertip. She shoots you a meaningful glance.
Just to be safe, I'll create a distraction.
If anything goes wrong...
I'll see you outside.
Helentine puts down her glass and heads for the exit by herself.
Ms. Spelmin, a moment.
This banquet... was arranged for Babylonia's delegation. You're leaving so soon... Wouldn't that seem somewhat inappropriate?
We've received a transmission from Babylonia. I need to step out briefly to handle some official business.
I see... In that case, perhaps I could send a few people along with you? It is part of my responsibility, after all. Makes things easier to account for on our side.
Ms. Spelmin needs to step out. Can I get a few people over here?
The server speaks quietly into the communicator.
Helentine gives a slight wave toward the ceiling dome while you slip between the tables and guests, working your way toward the restroom.
Please wait here just a moment.
Just then, the lights along the west wall of the banquet hall give a sudden flicker.
Every server's eyes snap toward them at once.
The lights are acting up now too. Someone needs to check this, please. The guests are right there. Can anyone just go take a look?!
In the next breath, the entire western side is swallowed by darkness.
Footsteps and shouts ripple across the banquet hall all at once.
Only once you have melted into the street crowd do you let yourself ease your pace.
The city streets look exactly as they should, ordinary and unremarkable.
What do you think of this piece I just bought?
Honestly? It's lovelier than anything I've ever seen.
But the conversations drifting through the street still carry something unnatural.
The vendor offers nothing but a textbook smile.
Happy to be of service! What can I help you with?
Port Podesta is a city built upon a mechanical organism. During the Golden Age, Port Podesta was the most prosperous port city in the Transatlantic Economic Community.
It boasts an advanced current regulation system, a well-developed shipping network, and a trustworthy municipal management framework.
Does that answer your question?
He delivers it all in a single breath, his tone so flat it barely registers as speech.
It's similar to what you saw back at the banquet.
Mr. Spelmin is the current head of the Spelmin family. Since the Golden Age, he has devoted himself to research and development in the field of M.I.N.D.
He has been recognized with honors including "Top Ten Outstanding Scientific Contributors of the Transatlantic Economic Community" and the "Erhorn Medical Advancement Award," among others.
During his tenure, Mr. Spelmin has achieved major clinical breakthroughs in multiple areas of M.I.N.D. research!
In recent years, Mr. Spelmin... Mr. Spelmin...
Mr. Spelmin is the current Chief Administrator of Port Podesta. Does that satisfy you?
Please come again. Enjoy your evening in Port Podesta.
Left with no choice, you walk away.
A few steps later, you glance back despite yourself.
The vendor has already lowered his head, fussing over the trinkets in front of him.
Nearby, a handful of customers talk about their purchases, their faces wearing the same pleasant, empty expressions.
Your gaze moves across face after uniform face, hunting for any sign of discord, someone like Caspar who still seemed capable of real feeling.
Then, a woman's silhouette cuts through the sameness.
She stands among the street crowd, her eyes watchful and uneasy. She does not belong.
She feels your eyes on her and tenses up, her whole body going stiff.
What—Tavis' people, here too?!
...Stay back!
She nearly yells the words and then turns and runs on the spot.
Her pace is completely out of step with the languid rhythm of everyone else on the street.
You chase after her without thinking.
She glances back and, seeing that you are truly following, only runs faster.
She clearly knows this area inside out. A few sharp turns carry her off the brightly lit main road and into the dark mouth of a side alley.
How are you still on me?! Why can't I shake you?!
Fine! Guess we're doing this the hard way!
Leia, just one! Go!
Out of the alley bursts a dark silhouette, a whip of glowing energy hissing and spitting in their grip.
Got you! Now that we're here, you can't—
Come to think of it, not long after the mission to support Sica in Constellia, Vanessa filed for Leia's new frame development.
For some reason, the Science Council had their hands full with it for quite a while. The new frame took far longer to develop than usual. You had seen Leia in this form before, back on Babylonia.
—Huh?!
The two of you share an awkward glance for a moment.
[player name]?
The other woman stumbles to a stop, still panting. She catches the exchange and freezes in place.
Wynne, relax! This is the famous Gray Raven Commandant!
You... you two know each other?!
So you're not with Tavis... oh, thank god. You nearly scared me to death.
Okay, okay! So what are you even doing here, [player name]?!
Uh... personal stuff! I got leave approved by Lady Vanessa, okay?!
Anyway, anyway. Crisis averted.
Hah... hah... you Babylonians... really are in shape...
More or less... Wynne and I have been looking into Port Podesta and Tavis lately. For reasons.
Behind them, a young woman leans against the wall, her head lowered and her face slick with sweat.
We found her on the way out of the port district. Smuggling ourselves through. She's in bad shape.
He... Helen...
Her brow is tightly knit, and her limbs twitch faintly as she murmurs in pain.
Helentine...
Looking at the girl before you, logic tells you this is the first time you have ever met.
However... for some reason, the moment her face comes into view, hazy fragments of memory surge up from the deepest recesses of your mind.
In the end, everyone's just trying to find a vein to reach the finish line. Nothing more complicated than that.
A wave of dizziness washes over you, and your lips move before thought can catch up.
