ORIGIN

He paced to one side and lowered himself to his haunches, briefly distracted as he took note of the group preparing to move.

Vargas then looked to Sora, and nodded once. He looked her over again--studied her form, if briefly; wondered what it was that had allowed her to survive where the others had failed. Some of them had fled, he knew that. Was it just that-? The willingness to leave others to die? Well, ruthlessness had its place. But perhaps there was more he did not know. "You survived the trial; that much I remember. It is impressive, given how many did not. How did you survive it? And what have you survived since?"

They were blunt questions, but neither his tone nor his demeanor was demanding, as such. Presumptuous, maybe--the assumption that Sora would accept his questions as reasonable, and answer them; the assumption that his authority was in place, and all of that. But his was a near conversational tone of voice.

He had a point with all of this, it seemed: but it wasn't yet clear what that was.

He had hoped for something practical; something useful. Something more than a tirade, and he felt disappointment when the swine first attributed her success to mere luck, and then spoke of her own misery (weak, he thought grimly) and her anger. But he didn't dismiss her words; instead he tilted his head, staring down, and addressed them. He was somewhat confused at the first, at the mention of an owl.

"We do not 'have'--that is to say, they are not 'my'--creatures of your... type. Your generation. I do not have an 'owl.'" He thought then of Kethri, puzzled. "Do you speak of that white one-? Ahh... Kethri. It is not ours, though it was aiding in research of some kind. An adjunct, at best; but she has no authority to speak for me. Nor would I send anyone to reinforce her. If I see her I will make that much clear," he added, and there was distinct and very severe threat in this. He did not appreciate others using his name as their weapon, particularly when he had given them no authorization to do so. A pause, and then--slightly more puzzled--"I have no 'smaller version.' There is only me." What exactly had the owl threatened--and why?

On she went, then. 'I didn't fall for the-- the tricks. I... did what I was told,' and Vargas noted this mentally, with more approval.

For a moment, Vargas had no idea who Sora meant, when she spoke of a 'wannabe general,' and it took him a few moments to realize that she must mean the deer Tahi-shei. By the time this clicked, she was accusing him, again, and he grunted and hastened to interrupt--or, rather, to answer, as it seemed that she was finished, now. "I did not arrange that trial, if that is your accusation. I have told you before, I believe: but for the most part, this cave is a nest. A place to create an army; and to test them. The trials are precisely that: to trial new designs. Those who survive are deemed suitable, and rewarded, and given further rights. Of course, there are always those who do not, but that is the cost of war." He said this with mostly indifference, but it was a wonder Sora was getting the full explanation at all--and a sign of how much the times had changed. In ages past, as an Overseer, he'd have responded with curt information or even a physical strike; but now that he held the rank of Master, his responses held the patience he was now allowed to display. "But back to your claim that what I did was monstrous, and your question. There is a weapon held by the army that requires periodic feeding, of sentient beings; it feeds off fear as much as life and blood. Rarely does it need to eat, and the Merchant organizes its containment, and its sustenance. I presume he raised some of your generation to serve as a source for it--but he did not raise enough. You were created to be food, in short. But you survived." He was not pitying in his words, nor was he defensive: it was a matter-of-fact explanation.

Really, it was like explaining to a suddenly-sentient pig exactly what bacon was.

"Regardless, I wished to speak to you not for platitudes and justifications, but simply to suggest that if you did survive his machinations--and you are one of the ones raised as food, and not a soldier--then you must hold some worth in war." He paused, considering. "If you perform well in Ursa, and if you wish it, there are more opportunities for you in Draco. We could perhaps see about further altering your form, or granting you a greater security, or the right to reproduce with some of the more formidable stones we hold. That is an offer, and not a demand," he added, to cut off any potential rebuke, with a faintly stern tone.

Then he pushed up, and waited to see what she would say--either in argument, or in question.

Needless cruelty?

He was rather surprised at this question, and his impulsive answer--which would have been a wise one if it were most of the cave he were discussing--came to a grinding halt with a single thought: Nemean. So he rephrased his answer with grim amusement in his mind, but a serious tone, and spoke to Sora carefully.

"Needless cruelty, necessity... That is a complicated answer. For the most part, yes, it was necessary; for the most part there is no needless cruelty in these caves. It is a practical place and there are duties to be performed, tasks to be handled. But your question reaches past practicality and into philosophy." Vargas wasn't a particularly philosophical type; it certainly wasn't something he dwelt on often but he was also not an idiot, nor unaware of the raging cries of the hunted and the damned. He'd be lying if he claimed he hadn't considered them, however dispassionately, after a hunt.

"If you have many that perform these tasks, undoubtedly some will treat their tasks more callously than others. One might weigh your life to be insignificant, your suffering even less. Others even come to enjoy suffering, and might torment you simply for the joy of it." (This was where Nemean came to mind.) "The Merchant finds no joy in such things, but nor does he find mercy for the doomed. I doubt he understands the meaning of the word. But for the most part: yes, these caves run on necessity alone. No: I have no other questions for you. That was all," he added, nodding off toward the rest--as if to suggest to Sora that she was free to leave, if she so wished.

He did not state whatsoever where he lay on that scale--the practical murderer, or one who rather enjoyed such work.

He made no mention of Orthoclase-Alpha, either--but he tucked that fact into his mind for future use.

He studied her, for a moment, taking in her words like a brief sip: 'not a good one, but not one that I am in any position to argue against.' Honest, though he was curious as to what she would replace it with; he was not so blindly faithful that he would ignore new perspectives. "You are welcome to offer alternatives, when we have more time for that. If a truly better system were offered, you would be heard." Of course, in Vargas's mind, he was thinking "better," "good," in terms of practicality. He didn't know if Sora meant the same, or something more akin to ethics, but it didn't occur to him that it might even be the latter--or to ask.

"Use caution," was his last piece of advice, given in a tone of warning, with a nod out to the others. "This excursion will be a test of those involved as much as a true assault. I cannot speak for their effectiveness. Should you wish to avoid this trial, I doubt it will miss you as you are; physical combat will not win the day here. But you are welcome to fight." This was advice given as some form of inside knowledge, and perhaps he felt that she had earned it. Her comrades had thrown their lives to the maw of the shadow-beast. And Ursa would be a new test: not one of his design, no, but a test nonetheless, as all things were.

A test of their ability to plan, to strategize, to lead. Perhaps the Gembound would show incredible foresight and resolve, and plan and execute a brilliant assault. Perhaps they would stumble blindly through Ursa and find nothing, or fall into Dontacael's traps. Vargas did not know.

He did know that if they failed, he would have Draconua incinerate them all; and perhaps Sora would rather not be present for such a failsafe.