Conversation · Composure

"Edgar did the talking. Paid his respects, like I were a fossil in a uniform. Offered platitudes about the struggle, flaunted his pink degree. Even quoted Mazov."

"Never trust a social democrat who quotes Mazov..." he suddenly remembers: "Oh, and charity too. They love their charity -- offered me blankets and social housing. I still have the gas cooker he brought."

"When was this?"

"Twenty years ago. Neither of them could walk now, could they? They were less fat then."

That's around the time the Claires came to power.

"Mr. Dros, did you kill the Krenel mercenary for the Claires? To incite a riot?" (Proceed.)

"I'm not doing anything for that swine again." He shakes his head.

"Again? What have you done for Edgar before?"

"Tried teaching him some Mazovian socio-economics. They didn't stick. We parted ways." He coughs.

Okay, he didn't do the hanged man for them. But he's insinuating something.

There is more here, you can feel it. He was not outright lying but almost...

That is a euphemism.

There is more here, but you may not have the information to pry it loose from him...

This has to be one of the mysteries you never got to solve...

Get over it, proceed!

You have a feeling there was more here, but what? This has to be one of the mysteries you don't get to solve...

Nothing mysterious about missing one thing in a hundred. Dust yourself off and proceed.

"Again? What have you done for him before?"

"Let's let this one slide."

"First against the wall with them," he sputters. "First against the wall, for keeping the mills of capital. They should go before the owners..."

"Have you approached them?"

"I haven't approached anyone! I've hid. It was Edgar who came to me."

"How did he know you were here?"

"He didn't just stumble in like an oaf," he nods to you. "He figured it out. Some kids told him about a monster on the island. I told you, he has brains." He points to the path leading to the tower.

"Stepped right off the boat and walked down where you came. I even kept the door open for him -- thought he was a man of the left. Wouldn't rat me out."

He shrugs. "I was right about one of those things."

"How did he know you were here?"

"And he let you be here?"

"Let me be here?" He looks around. "The ZoC is an unlawful successor of the Commune of Revachol. We took this fortification from the loyalists. Even the Claires understand this..."

They let him be here. 'Understanding' was a courtesy -- but why such a courtesy?

The Claires know everything about Martinaise, of course they know him too! Maybe they asked him to...

"We're not the first people you've met from the city, are we?"

"You can't live alone..." He's stopped poking at the ash now, just shakes his head.

"Doesn't Evrart run the Union?"

"That mobster toad couldn't run a shit-house. He has no political education. His twin, Edgar Claire, that one's been to one of those East Revachol Universities. He talks a big game about uprising and alienation and so on..."

"Got it."

"First against the wall with them," he sputters. "Keeping the mills running, collaborants, the whole lot. They should go before the owners..."

"Mhm. Now -- I have some questions about this..."

"We did good when we pushed him under the horse car. Until, in the Thirties, those disco whores..." He breathes in, his breath heavy with hatred, you cannot make out a single word.

"Okay then."

Nod.

"Anything more?"

"Parody of a social democrat?"

His lip curls into a sneer at the memory.