|| The Harbinger's Guest ||

|| Part 12 ||

As the door swung open, the ninth harbinger knocked politely against the metal door politely, his posture straightening.

A sigh swept across the room, originating from a body sitting at a desk. In this laboratory, he had no use for his uniform. He wore simple clothes. Yet still, he always wore that mask. Often times, people wondered if he was human or not.

"Come in," Dottore said, his voice cold. Bored.

It was safe to say that Pantalone did not hold the answer to that question.

"I believe we have a discussion due," Pantalone began, stepping across the stone floor. His heels clicked against the surface nicely, and Pantalone noticed Dottore's index finger tapping lightly against his work.

"Is that so..?" Dottore replied, standing from his desk. His eyes were still fixed upon whatever he had written down. His fingers were still tapping.

"It is about our... guest," Pantalone explained. He stood a small distance away from Dottore, looking down at the man as he was hunched over his work.

"Go on," Dottore insisted.

Pantalone paused for a moment. "I don't mean to pry, but, well, we both know that's a lie," Pantalone chuckled. His expression quickly changed. "Why is he here? I believe this was not what we originally had in mind. Our focus has never been him. He is merely a... stepping stone, within our work."

"Perhaps my reasoning is to stop him from being a... 'stepping stone'?" Dottore suggested.

"Well, now I'm sure that's not the answer," Pantalone smiled. "Do save me the mystery, Dottore. We are partners. If you don't want me to know, you would have said so already."

"You say that as if I owe you," Dottore responded, raising his head. He turned towards the Regrator, standing upright so that he could look down on him. "But, I suppose there's no harm in sharing. To tell the truth, he was never supposed to lose to the Balladeer."

Pantalone tilted his head in question, his eyes narrowing.

"Somewhere, somehow, what was meant to happen... did not happen. Fate seems to have rewritten itself, somehow. Perhaps it was an outside force. I'm still trying to figure it out," Dottore mumbled, glancing back at his work.

"Wait... you didn't expect the Balladeer to win?" Pantalone tried to understand.

"It was what I preferred in question, but it was never meant to occur. I'm not sure how else to put it, Pantalone. I prepared for what wa supposed to happen, and honestly, I believe that outcome was for the best. I knew that Scaramouche was never devoted to our cause. He has never been devoted to anything. I wanted the interrupt the imbalance between humanity and divinity, and I discovered just how possible that was. Scaramouche still showed that he was too weak... too human, to be a god," Dottore explained. "Yet somehow, he won when he was not supposed to."

"I see," Pantalone replied, his eyes showing that he was still taking this in. "So, the Traveler's only reason for being here is to figure out why things did not go as expected?"

"Not necessarily," Dottore answered. "I'd like to understand more about him. Make him more... aligned with our plans."

"I see..." Pantalone replied thoughtfully.

Dottore smiled back. "Anything else, Pantalone?"

"What is the purpose of this... ball?" Pantalone asked, slight distaste on his lips. "To have this replace the banquet... is there a reason?"

"I guess there will be more to celebrate," Dottore answered simply. "A larger event is required."

Pantalone nodded. "I see. Thank you for your time, Dottore."