Necrass

[Code Name] Necrass

[Gender] Female

[Combat Experience] Undisclosed

[Place of Birth] Victoria

[Date of Birth] Oct 16

[Race] Draco

[Height] 172cm

[Infection Status]

Medical tests have confirmed that no infection is present.

[Physical Strength] Standard

[Mobility] Excellent

[Physical Resilience] Normal

[Tactical Acumen] Excellent

[Combat Skill] Excellent

[Originium Arts Assimilation] ■■

Necrass, real name Eblana Dublinn, is the former Leader of Dublinn, an organization that no longer exists. After careful consideration, Rhodes Island has conditionally agreed to establish a degree of cooperation with her.

After joint confirmation from the Medical and HR Departments, as well as the Doctor, all of Necrass's files have been moved to the high-clearance database.

Imaging tests reveal clear, normal outlines of internal organs, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium granules have not been detected in the circulatory system and there is no sign of infection. At this time, this operator is believed to be uninfected.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0%

Necrass shows no signs of Originium infection.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.24u/L

This is a considerably dangerous level for a non-Infected. We recommend Necrass for immediate targeted medical intervention. She has previously rejected all of our examinations, and we strongly recommend—

Sorry, but I have to take her to HR now. She arrived on board in the morning, but only came to Medical at midnight, and the sun's already about to rise.

—Anxious HR Operator

One week after boarding the landship, Medical conducted a relatively thorough examination of her, concluding that—

Concluding that we could not draw any real conclusions. At best, we've thrown around words like 'because' and 'therefore' while merely re-arranging what we already know.

By the way, don't ask me about her blood. Heaven only knows if that is blood in her veins, or her flames.

—Warfarin

[A badly damaged diary with handwriting recognized as the Earl of Warwick's]

■ Day, ■ Month

Truly disappointing. I finally found the last two red dragons I've been searching for, but Eblana is silent, hesitant, and timid, while Loughshinny shows no ambition at all...

But no matter. They are my, no, this land's final two trump cards.

■ Day, ■ Month

Eblana has finally improved. She realized she can get whatever she wants as long as she obeys my will, and has learned to be greedy, hypocritical, and wildly ambitious.

Meanwhile, Loughshinny is infatuated with poems, myths, and legends. No matter. The throne spoken of in fables is still the throne, and I trust she will not treat it with indifference.

■ Day, ■ Month

I need no longer pay any special attention to Eblana. My word is law to her. 'Teacher' she calls me—yes, I am her teacher, the one she most trusts and relies on, whom she absolutely cannot do without.

As for Loughshinny... I shall let her be. I am beginning to appreciate her lack of desire, and can only hope this trait will please her sister.

■ Day, ■ Month

No one can tell me why Loughshinny is so fond of that crude baby dragon doll, yet she dares not grab it back from me. She is simply hopeless.

In the end, Eblana took it. I don't know what exactly she is thinking, as she outgrew such childish things long ago.

She flashed me such a sweet smile after taking the doll, but I cannot help but think she wasn't smiling at all...

Perhaps I am simply exhausted by the latest happenings in Parliament. Surely that's all it is.

■ Day, ■ Month

Eblana finally burned that tattered doll, and even told me she gave it to Loughshinny—yes, a lie. It must be. For Dr. Dale told me she personally saw her throw it into the flames. The doctor has always been loyal to me—I know she is, just like Eblana—

The diary stops there, for the other pages have been burned to ashes.

[Interview Log]

I know she's here. Yes, only me. The others? They'll never know, as long as you people don't take it upon yourselves to tell them. How? Well, she certainly didn't come looking for me, but you lot were obviously scrambling about to host a very important figure, and I'm all too familiar with this particular VIP's habits.

I'm sure you're no stranger to Dublinn's affairs. The ones you know just so happen to represent the sort of people who followed her.

First is Mandragora. Fanatical devotees of The Leader who think only of vengeance, but are also our most useful soldiers. Most of the upsetting incidents attributed to Dublinn in its infancy can be traced to their actions, but none of them remain.

Then you have the people like me and The Brigadier. Our backgrounds vary, but we're more capable than the ones with so-called seniority, so The Leader tended to rely on us. This complicates our private relationships, but she knew from the start what we wanted, and somehow managed to turn all of our connections to her advantage.

As for The Elocutionist and his ilk, do you really think she had no clue what they were up to? The Leader is someone who makes the best of everybody's talents. What I mean is, when she wants to use you, she'll wring out every last drop of value from you. And when you start to consider how to use her—that's right, even the thought of it—she'll already have figured out how to ruin you for good.

But the fact that she was able to board the landship proves that power has changed hands. She's no longer willing to be bound by Tara or Dublinn. If Loughshinny wants to shake things up, I fear I'll be affected too.

What did you say? Dublinn 'no longer exists'? The Leader personally... eradicated every last trace of it, then died, and came to Rhodes Island after?!

No, I'm not doubting that she's capable of that. To bury Dublinn... along with herself, is nothing but beneficial, both for Tara's image and their internal governance... What about the middle and lower ranking Dublinn members? Did she also...?

'They were told Dublinn had been integrated into the Taran Defense Force, and would no longer exist as a separate entity?' That certainly sounds like Loughshinny's handiwork. But by then, Eblana was already... dead, yes?

Leave me be for a while.

...I said I wanted to see power capable of smashing conventions, and she's indeed astonished me.

[Voice Log]

What used to be Wellington's demesne, along with the nearby regions with strong Taran national identity—officially referred to in Parliament as Wellington's Demesne and Surrounding Territories—now take orders from Na Saoirsí. This is not without precedence, as the Dukes often change up their borders.

We've even heard of some... 'Modern King Gaeil Legends' involving the death and rebirth of a red dragon, or a Draco from a specific family. The implied reality is not hard to guess, and we need not delve into the details. What is important is that it indeed explains not only the territory's huge shift in public opinion and administration style before and after martial law was imposed and lifted, but also the cautious and flexible diplomatic stance that would have been unthinkable for the previous 'Leader'. She has indefinitely postponed the so-called coronation in the name of frugality, for the ceremonial stone circle must be repaired first, and rebuilding the economy takes priority. She only calls herself the Leader, but has not abandoned private exchanges with the Core countries, and even organized a poetry and culture festival in Leithanien, based on the work of the late poet Seamus Williams.

As for 'Victorians who do not identify as such', we have at most a few sympathizers with similar issues in Londinium. Nor is it a significant problem in the other ducal territories, as far as I'm aware. The migration of the aforementioned group peaked before the conclusion of the war in Londinium.

As for Wellington's Demesne and Surrounding Territories, the Dukes have been keeping in contact with Wellington himself to discuss resolving any relevant issues, all while acting within the framework of 'Victoria'. Regular trade and travel have basically returned to normal, and I believe this issue can also be properly resolved.

The Operator before you jabs the recorder's stop button with annoyance, and repeatedly checks that it is off before letting out a long sigh.

When you asked me about Operator Reed back then, no one could've imagined things would turn out this way.

'She's embarked on a completely different, yet equally difficult, path from mine. I empathize with her, truly I do.

'As for her sister... as the Speaker of Londinium, all I can say is 'no comment'. As Vina of Rhodes Island... there really is nothing I can say.'

[Correspondence Log]

Next, I write this letter as Rhodes Island Operator Reed, and not as Loughshinny Dublinn.

Tara has already satisfied Eblana, or perhaps thoroughly bored her—there is often no difference between the two. Essentially, Tara is no longer in her sights. She only sees what interests her, the things she has yet to have... you know what I speak of, Doctor.

She does not like to lie, preferring to mislead with meticulously woven truths. She has been this way since the Earl of Warwick. Other than feigning a timid and hesitant front when we were just taken in, she hardly needed to put up an act to convince the Earl he had 'educated her well', listening to him even as she bared her fangs at him.

Meanwhile, I cannot help but wonder: was turning Na Saoirsí into a city of the dead an irrational act meant to make me submit, or had she planned for everything all along? Is posthumously wandering this land as a dire consequence of my negligence, a second miracle following the first—or has it always been her goal?

I don't know, Doctor... I don't know.

Please don't get the wrong idea; I bear you no grudge. I yearn to write of my own life like any ordinary Taran, but I'm perfectly happy to exchange that right for the survival of multiple cities and a nation's future. I will not denounce the Duke of Wellington either. He is hardly a paragon of benevolence, but his goal has always been explicit. Dealing with him may be tiring, but it is no torment.

Only, I still can't let go of Eblana.

I'd rather blame everything on her flames. She must have understood the nature of that ominous flame early on, so early that it distorted her perceptions. She was certain that I should be like her, but we did not gradually drift apart from our conflicts and contradictions. Rather, we have stood on opposite ends from the beginning.

Unfortunately, we are twins who lost our parents while young, so we resemble each other more than just physically.

More regrettably, I thought at the time that she would always understand me, and vice versa.

So she mercifully stuffed the toys she was tired of under my pillow, yet I could never tell her I didn't want her hand-me-downs, be it the toys she didn't want, or the authority I didn't like. This sort of thing has happened again and again, and my fear, anger, hatred... all those emotions have nearly burned to ashes by now, leaving nothing but grief.

...My apologies, we've gone off track, so I'll keep it short. Be wary of Eblana, and take care not to be misled by her cajolery or abrupt brutality.

Also, I appreciate the concern, but I won't go see her, and I doubt she has any intention of seeing me either. We will never see each other—

At least, until death descends, we shan't meet again.

Reading my visiting log? Perhaps to glean some sort of pattern from it? Why go through the trouble when I can simply tell you?

Every time I visit the Medical Department, they just so happen to be packed with patients, and the Cafeteria always just so happens to be open, and the head of the Engineering Department just so happens to be debugging support machinery, and at least two of your Elite Operators just so happen to be nearby, ready to close in on me at a moment's notice...

All a coincidence, I'm sure.

And yourself?

Indeed, you are also always wherever I decide to go, but mere 'coincidence' cannot explain your omnipresence.

Because you are a fascinating mystery, Erudite.

From the time you saved Loughshinny, to the moment she returned to me with your approval, my interest in you has only intensified.

Be that as it may, this land is not lacking in chess players to match wits with. Normally, I'd have left my contract with Rhodes Island and vanished, never to appear again. But I saw you. Smelled the death lingering around you.

—Do not interrupt me. It is not simply the scent of your patients or enemies who have died here.

Death is the source of all power, Erudite, and also its terminus. Death itself is power. And everyone around you is doomed to one day become either the power you wield, or the shackles compelling your surrender.

And so, I shall remain by your side.

Death is unbound by reason in choosing its targets. Once it locks on, it will pursue them until their life comes to an end.