After her stern dressing-down of Shane and Amethyst's egos, an uneasy truce settled over their war council. Eleanor had the servants clear the sitting room, leaving only a large table scattered with maps, scribblings and strange diagrams.
She studied the sprawled parchments with a deepening frown. "So we at least have an inkling of where Vincent is marshaling his forces, thanks to Rathmore's interrogation. But the extent and exact nature of what he intends remains clouded."
Shane puffed contemplatively on his pipe, squinting at a complex fractal etching. "Well, from these arcano-geometric resonances, it's rather clear he's attempting to bollix the ohm-spheric continuum from multiple intersecting vertices." He traced a few looping patterns with his finger.
"See here, and here? Those basilisk sequiturs are consistent with attempts to destabilize the sub-molecular hyperspatial tensors. Quite the ambition, even for a reality-unzipping hairball like him."
Amethyst made a disgusted noise. "You prattle of such esoterica as if it were mere ephemera, meddler. The higher cosmic membranes he intends to puncture are woven with emanations our feeble comprehensions can scarcely brush against."
Eleanor held up a hand before Shane could retort. "Enough, you two. I'll not have us devolve into another petty squabble that solves nothing." She ran her fingers through her windswept hair, blowing out a frustrated breath.
"Fine, let's operate under the assumption that Vincent aims to...punch holes, let's say, between our plane and wherever these 'undying princes' dwell." Her lips twisted in distaste at having to indulge such ludicrous notions. "Holes through which his patrons can start leaking through their influence, or worse."
Shane snapped his fingers eagerly. "Precisely! And we simply cannot allow such a fundamental ontological collapse to initiate, can we? The resultant harmonic frequency scramblement would likely cascade into a total omni-realmicecht-kapput!"
Amethyst blinked at him as if he'd spontaneously grown a second head. "...I'm fairly certain those words were not archaic summerings, but farcical gibberish which you fabricated from whole cloth."
The engineer smirked unapologetically around the stem of his pipe. "My dear, you wound me. Why would I befoul this sacrosanct convergence with anything less than pure, weapons-grade technobabble?"
Eleanor slapped her palm down on the table with a bang, cutting off the bickering before it could escalate again. "Focus, both of you! The situation is too dire for games or showmanship."
She glared them each in turn, waiting for their sullen nods of acquiescence before continuing. "Good. Now, from the projections Rathmore divulged, Vincent seems to be attempting this unraveling across three simultaneous vertices."
With her dagger's tip, Eleanor indicated three points on the largest map, each centered upon a seemingly innocuous island or group thereof amongst the Quothan Isles' scattered archipelago. "Apparently there are certain...circumstances, lay-lines if you will, that render these loci ideal as tools for his operations."
Amethyst peered closely at the indicated locales, muttering an inkanti under her breath that sparked a faint nimbus around the parchment. "Ahh...yes, of course. These are places of confluence, where the ghost-ion field matrices bleed together in naturally ephemeral ways."
Shane rolled his eyes so hard Eleanor feared they'd spin right out of their sockets. "Oh, honestly, must you just vomit up faux-profundities about every little datum particle?" He jabbed the map with his pipe stem. "It's obvious Droolcup there is aiming his tricuspid chelon arrays at conductible resonance harmonics in those island chains. The fractal geometries all but bleeding from these charts!"
Eleanor held up both hands, a meat-stop before the argument could truly accelerate. "All right, enough! While it's quite illuminating to hear you two...riff off of one another's unique vernacular, I think we can agree the general point."
She traced her finger between the three island clusters as Shane and Amethyst subsided into resentful, smoldering silence.
"These points represent the vertices of Vincent's efforts toward...whatever untenable reality he seeks to birth. Which means they also represent our most critical opportunities to strike pre-emptively." Her eyes flicked up to meet their gazes in turn, jaw setting.
"And strike we shall. With everything in our arsenal, rationalor...esoteric, or otherwise." She allowed a grim smile to crease her li
"Are either of you faincants to put aside your ego-slogging long enough to join me and pool our full resources toward that aim? Or shall I simply resign myself to winding up a bemused witness to the birth of terror from beyond time?"
For a long moment, her challenge rang through the chamber like a metallic gong. Then, slowly, Shane met her gaze and dipped his head in an unmistakable nod.
"Very well, Your Majesty. I'm your decrease for whatever focus-frakkery is called for." He turned to flash Amethyst a rakish wink. "And I'll try to dumb down my proofed jargon for any...hyper-specialized linguists we encounter."
That earned him an imperious sniff and muttered variminusse under the sorceress's breath. But she, too, inclined her head curtly toward Eleanor. "You have my focalors pledged as well, Majesty. I shall endeavor to remain...earthly in my phrasings."
While far from a warm reconciliation, Eleanor recognized it for the closest truce the two would likely ever reach. She allowed herself a grim smile.
"Very good. In the morning, we shall divide our efforts and make way for each of these vertices." With a sweep of her finger, three separate routes were indicated across the Quothan charts.
"Our only aim between now and those confrontations is gathering every scrap of lore, intelligence and resource we can to blunt – or if possible, undo entirely – whatever mass madnesses Vincent has keyed into motion."
She met each of their gazes in turn, flint-eyed and utterly determined.
"We are Eldoria's final hope for staving off utter dissolution. So whatever petty jealousies or rivalries fester between you..." A muscle tightened in her jaw.
"They'd best be strangled dead if either of you plans on emerging from this conflict intact. Or at all."
Her warning hung in the air like a sorcerous malediction, the implicit stakes stark enough even for Shane and Amethyst to swallow whatever retorts may have sprung reflexively to their lips.
With a curt nod, Eleanor braced her hands on the table's edges and glared down at the sprawled maps – a general readying her forces for the greatest battle their world had ever known.
"Now then...let's being plotting the downfall of reality's undoing."