"Did you have a chance to tidy up Admiral Rigau's shrine?"

"Did you have a chance to tidy up Admiral Rigau's shrine?"

"Yep, all taken care of."

"Wonderful!" She pulls out the plastic cup and slides it across the counter. "Now things will look nice for the Luzian delegation. Just wonderful."

"Thanks."

This is it. The last of the six Cardinal Wolves. You've collected them all.

... Why don't I feel fulfilled?

Because you've only collected a small fraction of the available wolves. You won't be satisfied until it's really done, and you've got all sixty six.

And then they'll probably turn around and add even more wolves.

ALWAYS MORE WOLVES. A LUPINE REACTIONARY HORDE.

"Can I interest you in anything else?"

"Can you give me the rundown on this place?"

"Of course. You stand before the first permanent structure built in Portofiro by the Illuminated Empire."

"The main shrine is dedicated to Canopus. Additional shrines have been built around the core to commemorate the deathless heroes of the Luzian people."

SUPPLEMENTARY PROPAGANDA, LOVINGLY COMMITTED TO MEMORY.

Sounds like the sort of thing a goon would say.

"So is it stars, or war criminals?"

"It's both, of course. One star. Sixty-six patriots."

Sixty-six... like the wolves?

"These sixty-six patriots... are they related to 66 Wolves?"

"Isn't it clever? Luzian shows are so good at weaving history into their stories."

It's suddenly clear why, of all their programming, the Luzians seem so eager to push the cartoon through the Culture Blockade.

PROPAGANDA FOR THE JUNIORS.

The wolves are very cool though. I must say, digging the wolves.

IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU, BUT YOUR CHILD-COMRADES REMAIN UNCORRUPTED.

I knew there was something up with that show.

BY THE TIME THE PARENTS OF PORTOFIRO REALISE THAT THEIR CHILDREN HAVE BEEN RADICALISED BY ILLUMINADO CARTOONS, IT WILL BE TOO LATE. THE DAMAGE TO THEIR MALLEABLE BRAINS WILL BE IRREVERSIBLE.

"You're a '66 Wolves' fan? My step-daughter is obsessed."

"And yes, isn't it clever? Luzian shows are so good at weaving history into their stories."

"But Portofiro owns this hill, right?"

"Wrong. This hill is still joint Luzian/Portofiran territory, as per the Historical Properties and Heritage Site Agreement of 83."

"It is a symbol of mutual peace and understanding. And it always has been."

"It feels more like an affront to the city than a peace offering."

"It can't be an insult to pay tribute to the people who shaped your country, can it? The riff-raff of Party Alley still wrap themselves in Nestor flags, no one tells them to abandon their symbol."

Sometimes they try. There was a rather notable broadcast during Nestor's second deposement where Portofiro's top radio host called for that exact thing.

Rivers of waterlogged rainbow silk, clogging the canals. The body of the radio host soon to join them.

"They did do that, once."

"Really? Well. Bad example."

"They're flags. This is land."

"Exactly. A tribute with some commitment behind it."

"Very generous of Luz to share their big hill."

"Yes." She beams. "A hill of peace and understanding."

"Do you pray here?"

"Every day." She nods seriously. "And at home, as well. I have a little model of General Silva's shrine. He's my favourite."

Hair in a silk wrap, eyes closed, hands clasped, she mutters under her breath for a full minute. Her husband is already asleep, used to this.

"Wait, you pray to the people enshrined here, not to the star?"

"I like to think that our heroes are watching over the Illuminated Empire, still keeping an eye on their people."

"Even if some of us here have forgotten that we are their people."

"Do you sell those?"

"I'm afraid it was a limited edition item they sent us for the General's 30th celestial anniversary."

"How'd you come to work here?"

"You know how it is. You wake up one morning and it's like, 'What have I been doing with my life?'" She smiles, looking at you expectantly.

Don't even think about it. Too late. The assignment calls.

HISTORY CALLS.

"I ask myself that every day."

"Well, I came over from Luz in the 70s, and I realised, you know, I really missed it. So I started visiting the shrine to pray, and think, and reconnect."

"One day the old shrine maiden dropped dead in front of me. And I took that as a sign."

"Wait, she died in front of you?"

"Yes. Aneurysm, I think. Here, then gone." She snaps her fingers. "No pain at all, just a little blood around the nose."

Paralytic dread, a microsecond of indescribable agony, then eternal silence.

"What if it wasn't a sign? What if it was just entropy?"

"All I know is, people have a way of ending up right where they're supposed to be."

She smiles at you again, but her eyes are cold.

"I had a sign too. Took a bullet right to the chest."

"That makes sense. Death is never very far from a true calling."

"Must be nice to know you're in the right place, doing the right thing, ha ha."

"That's why they call it a 'calling', mijita."

"Can't say I do."

"Tell it like it is, these are war criminals."

" 'War criminals' ." A small, tight smile. "People love that phrase. 'Racist', 'inhumane', 'atrocity'... do these words actually mean anything?"

"What's a 'fascist' anyway?"

A life lived in a permanent state of war.

"Fascists are at war, all the time."

"That..." she falters. "I don't even know what that's supposed to mean."

A part of her knows. She feels it every day, between her nightly prayers and the moment when sleep takes her.

"Maybe you should just see the shrine for yourself," she says firmly. "I think that will help you understand."

"A person who subscribes to authoritarian ultra-nationalist political ideology."

"So you admit that it's just a person? A person whose views you happen to be intolerant of?"

"Who said I was intolerant of it? I think they make some good points."

"Oh." She blinks. "But... war criminals?"

"Maybe my internal cultural biases are clouding my rhetoric."

"Some of them were accused and a few of them might have been unjustly convicted, but things are more complicated in times of conflict, don't you think?"

"Conflict crimes, then. Same deal."

"Right!" She drums her nails on the counter triumphantly. "So you understand that it's been misrepresented."

"Why are you here, if you have a problem with the shrines?"

You have worn your true feelings too openly and aroused the suspicion of the enemy priest.

"Hmm, good question..." (Slowly draw your gun.)

"Anyway, the shrine speaks for itself, in my view. I hope you find it worth your time."

Too oblivious to perceive a threat. You got away with this one.

"Thanks." (Slide your gun back down.)

"Of course", she says, stiffly.

"I'm here with an open mind." (Stop drawing your gun, but keep a hand on it.)

"That's all we ask for," she says, stiffly.

"The tourist books told me it was a 'must see'."

"Well, maybe the shrine itself will change your mind, even if I can't."

"I'm just asking questions."

"I hope maybe the shrine itself will give you answers, even if I can't."

"I wanted to test how strongly you hold your beliefs. Congrats, you passed."

"With flying colours, I should think."

Continue to downplay your beliefs.

"I mean, that's what the international court calls them."

"Actually I don't believe that fascists count as people."

"That's sick. You're psychologically ill, I feel sorry for you."

"Get off my dick, fascist."

"Oh, so it's okay for you to be intolerant of my views?"

"My views are about unity, and pride, and a noble tradition. Why would I tolerate something that spreads hate and division?"

"Now you're just being disingenuous."

"Ooh, another big angry word." A smug chuckle. "That won't work on me, sorry."

She thinks she's won this conversation, and there is nothing you could say to her that would convince her otherwise.

"I've considered those views and formed an opinion about them."

"I know you think you're very smart. I'm sure you are, back home."

THE WAR-LOVING REACTIONARY CHALLENGES YOU IN THE IDEALOGICAL ARENA. WILL YOU STAND FOR IT?

"I've met literal fascist diplomats during my time in Portofiro, but you are still somehow the fascist-est."

"Thank you. I know you think that's an insult, but I'll wear it as a badge of honour."

"Yeah, well you're a stupid backwards bitch from backwards land!"

"And we've devolved into name-calling, right on schedule!"

"Kohila is overdeveloped if anything."

"Mmm, is that what they tell you in your state-sponsored propaganda? You need to learn to form your own opinions, mijita."

Bite. Gnaw. Chew through neck.

YOUR FLOURIDATED COMMUNIST TEETH WILL MAKE SHORT WORK OF HER JUGULAR.

NONSENSE. SUPERBLOC MEDIA RECENTLY CELEBRATED ITS FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF DECLARING ITSELF PROPAGANDA-FREE.

Don't acknowledge the insult.

"A monster."

"I can see why you would think that, coming from an underdeveloped nation."

"I think they actually have pretty well-defined meanings."

"But they're just words. I'm talking about belief."

"Look, I really didn't mean to get into an argument about this with you."

"You people always say you want to debate..."

A fascist is... a fascist is... fuck, it's hard to put into words easily, isn't it?

"Forcing me to define a word seems pretty fascist..."

"I don't care what words are getting used, the facts are that people died because of them."

"Thanks, that's enough of that." (Go back.)

"Happy to be of educational service." She nods, pleased with herself.

True fanatic detected. Be careful what you say, and how you say it.

"How many have you got up here?"

"In total, there are sixty-six patriots enshrined here, from the earliest captains of the Luzian armada to figures from more recent history."

"Liberal use of the word 'heroes'."

"You asked for the 'rundown'. Please be respectful."

Strong goon aura coming off this one as well. She's in on the Luzian scheme, whatever it is.

Keep clear of the nails! One swipe and she could open your jugular.

Zero in on Tyrant Wolf.

Red-eyed, cloaked in black with a huge, spiked pauldron on one shoulder, the plastic wolf leans on a double-headed axe.

She's old, mane mostly silver, but her power is not diminished for it.

Alternative wording

She's older than the other wolves -- but no less powerful.

Most wolves don't live this long. What's her secret?

No trust. No mercy. Her heart's petrified in her chest, a stony remnant of everything she left behind to stay alive.

Is this the rarest wolf cup?

Only a handful were manufactured. Avid collectors wait with baited breath to see if another run will be issued. So far, nothing.

Consider Tyrant Wolf's expression.

There's something furtive in her eyes -- a hunted quality that feels wrong to see in a predator.

I'll take care of you, Tyrant Wolf.

She wants to nuzzle, but she is too proud, too tyrannical.

Sorry, Tyrant Wolf, you're creeping me out.

There is something melancholically upsetting about Tyrant Wolf... that is part of her allure. And also why she was chosen as the primary antagonist of the Crimson Crisis arc.

"Your cup looks cool."

"Oh, this... very rare I think. And exceedingly powerful. You'd have to ask my step-daughter, she's the '66 Wolves' expert in our home."

"Can I have it? I'd pay you a lot for it. I'm a collector."

"No, no..." she moves to tuck the cup under the counter, but pauses. "Unless you'd be willing to do me a favour."

"What sort of favour?"

"Our groundskeeper's useless -- he always seems to miss Admiral Rigau's shrine." She gestures to the stone steps.

"I bet he's missed it again. Would you mind... tidying it up a little bit?"

"Who's Admiral Rigau?"

"Hèctor Rigau. He led a group of brave freedom fighters and almost reunited this island with the Illuminated Empire back in 38."

"In the end, they were defeated in a last bold stand on the Hill of Pigs. Admiral Rigau was posthumously awarded his honorary title and rank in the Luzian Navy."

This is the Luzian version -- sanitised and brimming with valour.

"And if I do that you'll give me Tyrant Wolf?"

"It's yours." She confirms with a nod.

"The shrine is just up the hill and to the right."

You feel an overwhelming desire for this collectible novelty cup.

The heavily applied paint gives off a petroleum smell that sticks to the back of your mouth.

This is full polycarbonate plastic and cancerogenic glory.

Maybe I should start collecting these.

Too late. After this, you'll be on your way back to Kohila -- if all goes according to plan.

Still... I want it... (Accept the task.)

No way. (Reject the task.)

It's obviously meant to be gazed upon and admired, not used.

That's it and that's all -- strictly for decoration.

You'd need to be careful when drinking out of it. It's been designed with form in mind more than function, and its spiky angles could easily take your eye out.

"I'm not sure if I'll have time for that..."

"Well, keep it in mind in case you find yourself with a free moment." She puts the cup away, out of sight.

"Doesn't sound like he's a very good groundskeeper."

"He's not. I also suspect his papers are not in order, if you know what I mean."

"I really don't have time for that sort of thing right now." (Go back.)

"Alright." She puts the cup away, out of sight.

"I'm an expert too. If you're willing to part with it, it'll be in safe hands."

"I don't know." She moves to tuck the cup under the counter, but pauses. "Unless you'd be willing to do me a favour."

"Oh, this... very rare I think. And exceedingly powerful. 'Tyrant Wolf', she's called. It's from a show called '66 Wolves' -- my step-daughter's a huge fan."

"Can I have it?"

"About that favour..."

"Change of heart?"

Look over the souvenirs selection.

The shelves behind her are populated with postcards, refrigerator magnets, plastic picture frames, and a lone snowglobe.

Souvenirs, yes... good point. Are you really going to return to Melita arms swinging?

What? I'm about to kill the Lich for her!

That's big picture stuff. Important, sure. But she will also expect some Nice Little Thing that you picked out for her.

This is a lot of pressure...

Souvenirs are nothing but pressure.

Scan the postcards.

Images spin past as you turn the rack: A map of the city during the annexation period; a chain-gang of cartoon prisoners above the caption, "Hard time is a good time in Portofiro!"

"We have stamps as well!" She waves a sheet. "One for every deathless hero!"

Look at the snowglobe.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She fastens her hands around the orb and turns it upside down. Hundreds of tiny ginkyo leaves swirl around the miniature shrine within.

There's even a little tram station!

"... But flawed." She replaces it onto its base. "See the main shrine?"

Look at the shrine.

The flurry of ginkyo leaves settles, tumbling down the plastic landscape to reveal a clear view of the shrine at the top of the mountain.

Incredible detail -- handrails, tools leaning on the shed, a giftshop sign. But the faces carved into the rock are featureless, unidentifiable.

A shrine to possibility -- a shrine, perhaps, to right now.

Those faces could be our heroes instead.

Not a flaw but a visitation, a trinket from another world -- the one where we won. There, another CASCADE stands at another shrine, gazing puzzled at another snow globe, wondering why anybody would immortalise the worst of us.

You can see her eyes reflected in the glass.

"The globe is a message from a better world."

"Not sure what you mean, mijita. It's just a pretty little error."

She can't understand. This snow globe is a totem of hope, a dream capsule, a sacred wish which may never come true and might not even be real but can at least be held! Make it yours.

"How much? I need it."

"Display only -- not for sale."

She opens a drawer, seals the snow globe into the darkness within, and smiles.

ALLOW IT TO CROUCH IN THERE AND HOLD ITS GROUND -- A TINY OUTPOST OF REVOLUTION IN THE MIDST OF THE ENEMY'S STRONGHOLD.

Take it.

She reaches out to guard the globe.

Her nails scratch against your knuckles.

"It's not a flaw -- history just hasn't happened in there yet."

"Hehe, yes, and there's a little sculptor with his little chisel just climbing up those little stairs ready to carve all the little deathless heroes into the rock."

"Seems like an improvement to me."

"Ah, one of those are you. Some people even tell me they'd prefer the 'natural' rockface. But why would anyone visit a hunk of granite?"

"People come here to see that the land knows who we are, to feel connected. That's the beauty of all this." She taps the flawed globe. "Silly thing."

"Why sell this birth defect incarnate?"

"Oh it isn't for sale, mijita. I keep it so I can swirl the little leaves when they're not in season. Reminds me of the good old days, every year."

THE PATHOLOGICAL NOSTALGIA OF FASCISM: A CONTRADICTION SO GREAT THAT IT DRIVES THEM TO CRAVE A PAST THAT IS NOT ONE.

Those faces could be us.

Faceless tools of history, their anonymity fated to outlive them. Consecrated yet punished, braving the peaks until rain finally scours the last semblance of cartilage from the rockface. The Operants' shrine.

THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT, A FOREVER SPHERE.

"That's me, it's a shrine to me and my friends."

"That's a sweet thought, mijita. We can all aspire to number among the deathless heroes of technofascism."

Looks like a shrine. Faces carved into mountain.

"What am I looking for?"

"The deathless heroes, silly. There aren't any! Look at the carvings on the mountainside -- no features, just faces."

"Looks like regular reactionary rock."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. Look at the heroes -- that isn't them! Just faces, no features. Can't recognise a single beautiful one."

"Don't care." (Back.)

"Aww. But that's okay, it doesn't need you to."

Turn over one of the refrigerator magnets.

The plastic is cool in your hand, still a little wet from the morning mist, printed with an image of a long aircraft carrier.

The Raposeira -- Iron War Queen of the Luzian naval fleet.

Powered by two A4W nuclear reactors and four great steam turbines, this Lanza-class behemoth carried out the bombardment of the Western Provinces in 82.

"Lanza-class. Cool."

"Very good!" She's impressed. "What else do you know about it?"

"That it killed a lot of people."

"That's war for you."

In the smouldering wreckage of a schoolhouse, a screaming child writhes under the limp, heavy body of his teacher as their world burns around them.

"Interested? She's on offer."

Here it is! This is Melita all over. Bring this back to her -- the spoils of war.

A Luzian warship... ?

It's problematic, yet bold... and just a little bit fun. Perfect.

Fridge magnet. Like the freezer they put me in. I get it.

So will she.