( closed ) i have seen men provoked and i have seen lives revoked;

[cailisairgid]

Who: Hellsing Matriarchy.
What: Independent reports have begun to confirm the information "given" to Solomon Koenig before his disappearance; the matriarchy must now decide what to do with it.
Where: Nuala's sitting room, Hell House.
When: This evening.
Warnings: Ruthless tactical discussion; mentions of torture, execution.

The fire burning low in the grate is still warm, a soft glow contributing to the lamplight of Nuala's sitting room; she sits not far from it, her sewing in her lap, resting over the storybook she'd read to Sidda before sending her to bed with the nurse. Something is going to have to be arranged for the child, soon, but Hellsing has had other concerns that don't wait for the princess's health-- all of them neatly outlined in plain, clinical terms in the array of files set out on the table beside her, a quietly brutal incongruity in an otherwise domestic scene.

They've been watching the farmlands, tracking the Chimer house; confirming as much as they can of the information Solomon wrung out of his guest to indicate how seriously they need to take the rest. The answer is a great deal, and her needle glints firelight when she sets it down to look up at Integra on the other side of the room.

"How much of a choice do we have?"

Comments

[suninhades]

"Because we aren't fools? None."

Her voice is flat, neither terribly bothered nor enthusiastic. Unlike many relatively newer citizens of Baedal, Sir Hellsing doesn't loathe the Militia on such a personal level; their interaction with the populace is often unprofessional and their scrutiny is irritating, but she has less moral outrage than most. The chief problem Integra has with the Militia is that she, personally, does not enjoy the same freedoms - as she once did, and will again, at home.

In this particular situation, they walk a fine line: to turn something over to the Militia in any capacity is to open themselves up to closer scrutiny and appropriation. And God forbid what they turn over is inaccurate - hence the seriousness of the meeting now.

"To stay quiet would only protect the Candlelighters. To go public would pitch the city into panic."

[cailisairgid]

Neither of which are acceptable outcomes.

Nuala chafes against the Militia's authority in Baedal, but as with Integra her objections aren't unrelated to the limitations on her accustomed reign; her distaste for and discomfort with the way they treat the city's inhabitants is more distant by way of rank and of privilege. The political wrangling, however dangerous and brutal, is moving pieces on a board and even at Hellsing there's an element of the ivory tower to her experience - not for no reason is she never seen in the city without an escort.

She thinks of it this way, moving pieces and consequences foreseen.

"We haven't the resources to overstep so far out of our jurisdiction if we would," she acknowledges as well, sliding the flat of her needle against her fingertips. The light and testing pressure is too brief to register to her brother at such distances, but she thinks of him fleetingly, of what they once could've done together if they'd been so inclined.

[suninhades]

"Jurisdiction aside, we aren't set up to combat biological warfare."

It's as simple as that. They've been trying - not desperately, but thoroughly, because they have to be sure - to prove or disprove or at the least judge the chances of whether or not it's could be true. All signs point to accuracy. And while it could be deliberate, planting one terrifying, unprovable possibility amongst a field of minor details, at this point they cannot ignore it. The potential risk of keeping silent and having it be true vastly outweigh the risk of speaking up and having nothing come of it.

Integra is quiet for a while, the end of her black-papered cigarette glowing faintly, smoke curling up to the ceiling.

"Tovio," she says finally, her gaze on the paperwork spread out between them. "His priests have the pulse of the healer and medical community. We'll go to shaman in charge in Aspic. As well as the Militia."

[cailisairgid]

A tip of Nuala's hand is agreement; they're coming at the same point from different directions, and they both know the ultimate truth of it. Even if they had the jurisdiction to go as far as this goes (even if they could afford not to give a damn about the limits of their leash in this forsaken place), they haven't the resources. Not to combat that kind of warfare and not to gain the kind of unfettered access to Baedal as a whole that they'd need to openly pursue each and every implication--

It's a bitter pill, going to the Militia, but the question is not whether or not they'll do it. The question is how, and when, and with what plans of their own in place.

"We've been reactive," she says, lifting her needle. "That must change."