"To me, it is almost like this is an elaborate attempt to create the perfect killing machine." Crestwood said. "That is how I see this."

"A killing machine…? To kill what?" The woman asked.

"To kill who? Is what you should ask," he corrected. "Inhabitants of the supreme universe."

The woman frowned in thought. "You think this is an elaborate attempt to… fight against a universe full of Exalted?" She asked for clarification.

"Think about it carefully. Think about everything that has brought our world to this point over the millenniums." He leaned forward in his seat. "Origin rewards worlds with champions that can triumph over others. Power has always been what origin rewards." He looked pointedly at all of them, trying to drive his point across. "It strips all other worlds of their access and converges it onto one singular planet— the victor, pushing it forward to compete yet again, and again, and again… up until the point where there would only be victors. Deadly and very powerful victors…"

"You've surmised that you think the end goal is the supreme universe… and like I asked before… why?" The woman sighed exasperatedly.

He held up a finger for her to hold her thought. "I think they might have done something terrible. Played with powers they shouldn't have. So now, Origin is retaliating…"

She hummed in thought, "That is a very far leap… Do you have anything to support this idea…?"

"Not particularly… I simply think this should be the case," he said, causing her to fall deeper in thought.

"Well, whatever the case may be, that doesn't really matter to us at the moment, no?" One of the other men brought their attention back. "What matters is that there will probably be millions of talented youngsters from every corner of our universe on one single planet… and only champions from one world can emerge victorious." He looked between all of them, asking the obvious question all on their minds. "How will our victors survive? This isn't even a matter of personal gain any longer. We might actually be stripped of origin at the end of this!"

Crestwood kept silent, sipping his tea placidly.

"Crestwood?" Melissa urged.

"I do not have all the answers. Neither can I even begin to attempt looking for any answer."

"No. You can try." The other woman spoke. "You can speak the language of the Oracle just as much as Maximus can. Ask it."

"I already have. It's no use. It is purely directed by origin on whether to answer any questions we may ask or not. So aside from the fact that calculations on that scale are basically impossible, even if it could somehow calculate parameters of a universal scale, it still will never reveal the answer to us." He shook his head. "We just have to trust in the ability of our champions."

"...I'm kind of rooting for the Pathfinder now…" the other woman mused, but no one could say anything to reprimand her. When the matter of their very survival was at stake, benefits came second.

"We leave the boy for now." Crestwood ordered. "I will talk to… him. When the time comes, he will know what to do."

They nodded in response, moving on to other matters and finally also taking time to enjoy the view the Crestwood estate provided.

One might question the secrecy of their meeting because of how open the space was, but their secrecy was very much assured. No one knew they were here, not even the members of the Crestwood family. And no one would ever know when and how they would leave. This was the secure way they had held all their meetings since they came together after finding out they shared similar goals.

After discussing other matters and relaxing for a bit, each of them left one after the other, leaving the Old Crestwood sipping his tea. He stayed there watching the scaled swans for a while before he sensed a presence right behind him.

"Florian." He acknowledged the figure.

"Grandfather," a feminine sounding voice spoke in return. "Why do you keep these people by your side?"

"Contrary to most people's beliefs, like your father, you cannot go far in this world alone." Crestwood advised. "I have my role, and they have theirs. There are things I cannot do that they can, so I assign these tasks to them. When my use for them is finished, I simply dispense with them. It's a very transactional relationship that even they are aware of and are ready to do the same."

"I see no use in them. They are weak." Florian said softly. "They can be a hassle afterwards. Why not simply dispose of them then?"

"Because they may still be of use later in the future." He explained like he was talking to a little child. "It will be harder to find other people and build the same relationship up from the ground."

Florian shifted on his feet uncomfortably like he was distressed at the thought. "So much trouble." He muttered.

"Do not worry. You will learn." Crestwood assured before slowly standing and facing Florian squarely. The boy's figure was nothing like his voice. Blond, untamed hair like a mane cascaded down his shoulder wildly. He had a very squared off jaw with traces of pubescent beard beginning to show. He had pale gray eyes that looked like they stared deep into your soul. Tall. Almost the same height as the Old Crestwood himself, who stood at six feet five inches.

He looked into the eyes of his grandfather without any fear or trace of respect or the like. Not even haughtiness. He just looked at everything and everyone the same way. Blankly.

Crestwood looked at him and hissed slightly before catching himself.

"You are displeased." Florian noted.

"No I—" Crestwood held up a hand in surrender before dropping it on the boy's shoulder, patting him gently. "I apologize… I just noticed you weren't wearing your shirt the right way."

Florian looked at himself and immediately made to take it off and wear it the correct way before he was stopped.

"Don't." Crestwood held his hand, frowning slightly at the boy's strength in his grip. "I've told you several times. Do not disrobe in front of anyone. Ever. It's terribly indecent."

The boy shifted in his feet again, feeling stifled. But he grudgingly acknowledged Crestwood's words.

The old man dusted the boy's shoulders gently after seeing him nod. "You've gotten better though, which is good."

"It is easy to do this, grandfather. I just do not like to do it all the time." Florian muttered.

"Well, you have to. It is what societal norms dictate." Crestwood immediately held up a finger at the argument Florian was about to launch into because of his words. "Save that for later Florian. I want to discuss something with you."

"The pathfinder." Florian stated.

"You were eavesdropping again."

Florian shrugged without remorse. "I can do it without you or them finding out, so why should I not?"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you shou—" Crestwood sighed. "Very well. Then you must already know what I want you to do."

Florian grinned. The first real expression that had crossed his face all through their talk. "Leave it to me, grandfather." He said with his feminine sounding voice.

"He wouldn't even see it coming..."