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Faustite had the right instinct.

It didn’t take long for Encke, who had been on a quieter patrol in an adjacent area, to notice the sense of a fleeing basic senshi light up his senses. The rapid movement of the aura likely hinted at trying to get away from something, and as he pushed forward to meet it, he noticed something much more significant than a basic senshi. General aura, likely pursuing the senshi in interest of tormenting them somehow…

Or just taking their starseed. Perhaps dragging them in for corruption if the basic had a sphere they wanted. None were favorable.

Encke redoubled his speed in an attempt to get in front of the basic senshi before the general caught up to them. Why were they chasing? Backed up the concept of torment versus a simple collection; generals could just teleport and it was one of the most irritating things about them. Unless the general was already injured, somehow, which may have been delaying their teleportation… Was that smoke in the air? Was there a fire nearby? Was that what was going on? He didn’t smell one, didn’t see one, didn’t–

Wait.

There was someone who he could think of that might cause smoke–

Or there was a fire, which could explain the potential of the general being injured.

He moved a bit faster. Better not to risk it either way.

The basic aura fled.

Encke had half-a-mind to follow and make sure that they were okay, but they were successfully getting away. Was the general preparing to teleport? Usually there wouldn’t be such a lag between the sudden auric movement, though, and perhaps that was the greater concern. The senshi was probably panting for breath, but they’d be fine–

He scanned the area to see if they’d spot them fleeing, just in case. …Might be easier if he had a vantage point.

Might also help him pick out where the smoke was originating from. If it was a fire, he thought of the Autumn Theatre for a fleeting moment. He wasn’t sure how much ground he would be able to cover before people started dying of smoke inhalation and the fire itself, but that hadn’t ever stopped him. Any life saved was better than the alternative. If the smoke was coming from the general that had legitimately stopped moving, well.

There were other questions. Why did he stop pursuing the senshi, for one?

He got as close as he could to the aura, took a deep breath, and jumped.

He landed.

He stopped.

“Faustite.”

Faustite was sneering at him. Not exactly unexpected. It was everything else that was; he was coughing like he had inhaled his own smoke from the ******** captain days. The memory of it tickled his nose. Why was Faustite smoking? Did he need those pipes back?

And why was he trying to find one of their royals?

He knew of Castor, Ganymede, and Ida. Hadn’t ever run into Iris, to be honest, though he knew of her and that was probably the same as Faustite had never crossed paths with Chronos. It was worth keeping track of which ones Faustite knew, but that didn’t ultimately matter so much as the purpose. Why was Faustite telling him to go find a royal while coughing up smoke?

Didn’t seem to be specifically looking for Ganymede, which considering her recent capture seemed the most obvious option. So what did he need any royal for?

“Why?” Faustite was right to take a gamble with Encke. He still kept to his general word. Faustite had his hands up and seemed to legitimately be a non-threat in his current state. But that could just as easily be a lie, be a way to lure him in, be a way to make him think everything was fine and no harm would come to the royals, either. He saw Faustite in action more times than he cared to count. Saw him in action at bigger invasions and attacks, and smaller ones, too. Knew he was good at strategy. Had even watched and assist him execute a quick one against that wispy monster a few years back.

Encke crossed his arms. “You and I both are smarter than that. What do you need them for?”

Faustite was probably expecting that question, too.

Between him and the royal?

Faustite was asking Encke to trust an awful lot, and was pushing him with the risk of losing his patience and chasing down some other eternal (he presumed, seeing as he clearly hadn’t been following that basic in hopes of getting them to do this). Encke was a bit more willing to talk than average, especially if conversations remained non-violent–though he had exceptions to that rule–but he wasn’t gullible. “And set up the chance for you to capture one of ours?”

Maybe they were just looking to get a hold of any royal. No doubt the recent arrival of a new princess pissed them off. Maybe Faustite was looking to lure any royal into a trap so the Negaverse could eliminate one and bring it back to the level they were used to, or just to kill one, in general.

Maybe it was something else.

“What are you going to do if you leave me? Keep chasing down countless senshi that can’t fight back until you summon one that can, and hope one of the next ones will just help you get in touch with a royal?” Encke bounced on the heels of his feet to stop himself from fidgeting more obviously. “Sounds like that requires more patience.”

Encke had patience in spades. He’d play this game.

After all, he’d watched and made the mistake of not just ending this several years ago.

“Assumptions based on past interactions,” noted Encke, as Faustite nearly paced a hole into the roof of this building, “and that’s all you’ve given me.”

Encke was making an assumption, too, that Faustite needed him a lot more than he was letting on. It was context clues: the fact that he greeted Encke with his hands up, the fact that he was coughing, the fact that Faustite was making a play at going after another but not actually doing so, the fact that he had dropped that first chase the moment he got Encke’s attention. It was rewarded when Faustite implied he was running out of time.

Running out of time for what? What could he possibly be on a clock for that would require a royal?

The obvious possibility had never really hit him because it had seemed impossible on the surface. It hadn’t been too long ago when he and Nectaris had ended up butting heads over something that had involved the concept of purification. One of the prime suspects that he suspected would always remain impossible? Faustite. Faustite of starseed theft. Faustite of years of endless clashes. Faustite of nearly murdering his husband. Faustite of barely not murdering his husband the first time. Faustite of attempting to set Nectaris and a whole building on fire. Faustite of Chaos, Faustite of the Negaverse, through and through.

“You’re kidding,” Encke said, even though it was clear that wasn’t a question. It was somewhere between bafflement and disbelief.

Encke’s arms fell from their position crossed over his chest, and now one hand tapped out a rhythm on his thigh. “Let me get this clear. You’re looking to get into contact with a royal so you can…” was he really about to say this? “purify?”

Nectaris wouldn’t let him hear the end of this if she ever found out. … Which, if he was right, she eventually would.

Faustite didn’t kid, hadn’t ever kidded with anyone in Order so far as his experience told him, but that didn’t make what he was being told any more believable. It was two steps short of feeling like he had awoken in the middle of a lucid dream because this was only the kind of thing that would occur in a fantasy. Faustite legitimately wanted to leave the Negaverse?

Bullshit.

The correction was met with an eyeroll of his own, but it certainly tracked with everything Faustite would say. Still sounded a bit like Negaverse propaganda, too. There was a reason why Order relied on those phrases; purification cleaned the starseed of what Chaos had bathed it in. He would have taken the time to reinforce that, but Faustite hadn’t really stopped talking, and had launched into his own implications about Encke until he himself burst into … more flames.

Well.

Backed up a few things. Explained the smoking, probably. Was the youma part of Faustite dying, or was it overtaking? Did it make a difference?

“s**t,” slipped out between his teeth.

Should he help Faustite, or should he just let him suffer? Let him boil away and rid Destiny City and Earth of the problem? The thought should have delighted him for all the trouble Faustite had caused; all he could feel instead was his stomach flop.

Not like this.

Not if he legitimately wanted out.

… <******** was taking a gamble, he had to be. It was absolutely a gamble. Would it be worth the consequences? His fidgeting seemed to skyrocket, the tapping almost became insistent.

“You better not be ******** with me,” muttered Encke, letting out the most drawn out breath he could muster between the tightness in his chest. He sounded defeated without Faustite even doing anything. “You’ll need to want to be rid of all of it, you know, for this to work. And I don’t think it’s an easy process.”

He knew from experience.

He still remembered being in the bleachers at Barren Pines, arms far too long and face far too gaunt, holding hands with the others as he waited for Princess Chronos and her court to hopefully free him and the other students who had been turned. And it had worked. For some of them, at least, those of them who wanted to be free. Others perished, never to walk the Earth as humans again.

Encke presumed that was a model.

Encke couldn’t help a stifled snort at the concept of being the lord of anything, let alone purification.

No, he wasn’t the lord of purification. None of the other royals were dead or dying, at least currently. There was yet a part of him, though, a part of him that screamed in disbelief that Faustite legitimately wanted to purify. The concept that he would leave the Negaverse seemed incongruent with everything else, seemed to butt against the concept of several years of experience, and Encke knew people could come back from it. He did. He had watched it happen. Had watched it happen with Nectaris most recently, even if he hadn’t been witness to Sylvite at her deepest.

But Faustite?

This general, this chaos-infected smoke pit?

… Of the literal smoke pit, evidently, considering the smoke kept wafting out of his mouth and out of his nose.

“Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Encke’s tapping seemed incessant. He wished he had a fidget toy. He wished it was a bit easier to breathe around the thought that Faustite was ******** with him, and that he’d use this chance of a royal maybe having their guard down because of Encke’s contact as an opening to capture or kill a royal. “And me. Need some reassurance you won’t just murder the royal the moment you have an opening. This is a big risk, Faustite.”

He had taken out his phone, anyway.

Best to start evaluating his options.

“Not sure if Ganymede is the best choice, considering recent events.” That was fairly pointed. He wasn’t willing to entirely rule her out, but was it a nonstarter? “Haven’t seen Castor in a minute,” and considering his actions last time he saw Castor, he was pretty sure he wasn’t on Castor’s nice list, anyway. Ida, maybe? It was a gamble, considering what happened the last time they had met. It was still worth a shot – perhaps she could help if he was serious about it.