34 Interlude: Your Friendly Local BWRTC

(A/N: I told you all not to expect a chapter the week after the double release. Sorry. Anyway, this chapter is an interlude, as in 'a period or event that comes between two others and offers a pause', and doesn't involve MC (although it's still longer than my average chapter). I'll try to release an extra chapter with MC this week anyway, but no promises.

I'm going to try writing it in 3rd POV. Tell me if it's not good like that.)

An observatorium. An arboretum. A sepulcher. An apothecary. A catacomb. An office. A vault. A mausoleum. An atrium. An amphitheater. A vestibule. A fortress. An aquarium. A crypt. A library. And so, so many more majestic edifices, from orlop to palace, all similar in their grandiosity.

A twitching, dulled portrayal of each location appeared behind its respective member of the British Wizardry's Round Table Conventicle (BWRTC), the general assembly for major British Magicians, broadcasting their countenances to a table seating dozens of fellow sorcerers. A Round Table that had persisted since the days of Merlin and King Arthur, a venerated piece of furniture whose room was just as magnificent as any of the holograms it housed. It was an establishment of jade, marble, gold - its Magic Circles, anchored by these materials, all coming together to form an imposing aspect.

A gavel smashed down, albeit without a hand in control. For the Magicians were not there, physically - only their psyches were present, in a holographic form imitating that of their bodies, the depictions of their locations merely brought along as a suitable projection of eminence and individuality beyond their beards' grooms. Every Magic Circle and rune and alchemical enchantment layered throughout the premises served to prohibit the use of Mind Magic, as tangible attacks would not affect them.

Thus, it was Mana and sorcery that grasped the wooden mallet.

"May the four thousand, three hundred and sixty-third congregation of the British Wizardry's Round Table Conventicle, as known as the BWRTC, officially commence. Shall Lord Percival Algerephine Cosmo Tarquin, second of his name, initiate our discussion on this most fine evening?"

The sound of two hundred and sixty-six gavels rang out, none with any corporeal wielders.

"Ahem. My greatest thanks, Lord Aldrich Montgomery Lennuance Damos-Ashurbanipal." Another gavel, this one coming from a man in flowing, azure attire and a long white beard, crashed down on the ancient table. A manor sprawled behind him. "My fellow Lords, I shall make an aim to conduct myself with brevity and concision during this most esteemed congregation."

All of the Magicians stayed silent.

"As our Chief Sorcerer," here, he gestured to the starry robed man speaking before, "has no doubt informed you all, our position on the current events embroiling the mainland has not yet been decided. We would like to dedicate this summit to determining just that, beginning with a vote to see where opinions lie before discussions take place."

An integer, wreathed in golden light, appeared in the middle of the Round Table, seeming to be facing whoever gazed upon it. It numbered 0/266.

"I possess no doubt our wizened members recognize the next proceeding, but in spite of my oath for transience, I shall proceed with the formality. Please funnel a modicum of Mana into your respective gavel, should you believe the current state of events favors isolationism."

The number steadily rose for thirty seconds, ending with a 178/266.

"A sixty-seven percent vote in favor of noninterference, then. Two-thirds majority. May those of the one-third explain their decision?" Lord Percival Algerephine Cosmo Tarquin, second of his name, requested. "If none wish to argue their position, the result of the vote will automatically be cemented as our course of action. Signify your willingness to speak by flaring your presence."

Three did so, and the quickest was called upon.

"Lord Shlomo Tenfornesley Westiworthionus, please, speak your mind."

A bang rang out from Lord Percival's gavel.

"Very well," said the man, Lord Shlomo Tenfornesley Westiworthionus, leaning back into his throne. A planetarium revolved behind him. "After careful thought of the utmost degree," a light snort rang out from a Magician dressed in purple, "I believe an involvement to be in our best interests. The Devils bring forth a terrible might, the Vampires a latent devastation and caustic resolve, and, as a few of my spies have been hearing, the Magus Syndicate a most cavernous wisdom and profound sorcery."

A murmur or two reverberated at the last bit.

"Meanwhile," he continued, "the Heavens are but one. They are at a relative high point in power, indeed, but against three organizations - and potentially four, with ours - they cannot hope to prevail, especially when the Lord Above has kept silent. Leaving victorious from such a conflict is not a worry, and doing so would ingratiate ourselves to the Underworld, Transylvania and the Reviled Magus in their new world order. The contracts, the partnerships, the trade and potential benefits cannot be disregarded. That is it, most esteemed Lords." Lord Shlomo stood and bowed.

Lord Percival nodded. "A most acute series of observations, my good sir. Let us continue. Lord Eberhardt Gainsborough Abraxas-Parthenios Eliezer, if you would?"

A younger man, not yet having sprouted the lengthy facial hair of his associates, stood and tipped his pointy hat before the conclave. A grand library stretched out behind him, a neverending expanse. "Thank you, Lord Percival Algerephine Cosmo Tarquin. I would like to begin my articulation by stating that much of my argument coincides with Lord Shlomo Tenfornesley Westiworthionus', albeit with a few differences."

He raised a finger and pushed up his spectacles. "I believe that we ought to only take action after the Injurious Seer of Perfidy and his Magus Syndicate officially declare their support for the Devils, rather than only engage in their obfuscated dealings. Simon Magus has forever sided with the eventually triumphant, and whether that be a cause of his affiliation or simply evidence of his savvy in prescience, it is a good omen for choosing allegiances. Whilst I know of his alarming notoriety and ill reputation in our society, the opportunities this could bring forth cannot be ignored. I rest my case, most esteemed Lords."

Lord Percival motioned for Lord Eberhardt to take his seat. "Astute, for someone so young - a trait of the gifted. Now, Lord Ashvianos Maugrim Sulaugur, would you like to continue off?"

A man with a disfigured face, looking as if his skin had been melted for a few seconds and then solidified, stayed seated but nodded his head. "Indeed. A recent agreement has been reached between the two sides, following the battle in the Appalachian Mountains involving Grand Magician Rosenkreutz. Both have decided to limit any Ultimate-Class or above combatants from engaging in any combat outside of sanctioned zones, in an effort to preserve the secrecy of the supernatural."

He scratched his chin. "When Lord Rosenkreutz engaged in battle with a Longinus user in that aforementioned battle, they obliterated three mountains, causing this development. There is much less risk in sending Magicians en masse, now that presences like that are restrained. When faced with foes of manageable power, guile and common sense can prevail, and I'd like to think our esteemed Wizardry possesses sufficient amounts of both to identify when to retreat."

Lord Percival nodded again. "Brilliant and well-informed. I had not learned of that development, good sir, so I would like to thank you. Would any more of you like to speak in this current phase?"

No presences flared, the one-third content.

"Then, to preserve the valuable time of our resident Lords, we have compiled the main points of arguments against participation in the war. I shall read them aloud, and then, from there, any additional reasonings may be stated. Any objections?" Lord Percival raised a gray eyebrow.

No gavels slapped their wooden blocks.

"Then, I shall begin. Envision these as bullet points."

The azure-robed man unfurled a scroll of parchment.

"'There is a great chance of the Church winning, if only because the Devils have yet to fully dedicate themselves to this endeavor, which is mostly spearheaded by the militaristic faction.' 'Simon Magus is known as the Injurious Seer of Perfidy for a number of reasons, and alliances forged with him would be suspect.' 'The majority of the Magician organizations under the umbrella of the British Wizardry's Round Table Conventicle have no desire to toss their cadavers against the Holy Bulwark for the sake of creatures of the night and foreigners.' 'Any potential allies in the war, whether Devil and Magus or Clergyman (laughable as allying with the Heavenly Host would be), have a notable chance to dishonor any agreements made.' Anything to add, in favor of either side?"

Various presences flared, and one was called upon.

"This is neither in counter to or in support of the first argument," Lord Barnaby Pragrapolis Esterlardt Vanderlos stated, rising from his perch. "Has anyone received firsthand information from any Devils on the current opinion of the general Underworld on the war? Notably, Mathers?"

A murmur ran through the Round Table, before one man responded.

"My Devil pact partner has informed me some, when requested. Her statements were that the general populace carried on with minor hubbub, that the 72 Pillars were split in opinion, and that the Satans had not expressed any real support for the militaristic faction beyond the Green Satan, Falbium Asmodeus, giving some gesture of affirmation for the movement of forces from the Clans who wished to participate. Whether or not they will truly throw their weight behind the attempt is up in the air."

"And Mathers?" Lord Barnaby persisted.

"He recently had an interview with the Sorcerer's Gazette, but he still refuses to contact any of us at the Golden Dawn," Lord William Wynn Westcott [1] spat. "Nothing of note was stated in the interview."

"Very well. Then the first point could go either way. I am finished."

Next, Lord Maximus Quentarry Stoneshire-Hargreave rose. "I would disagree with the verbiage of 'tossing our cadavers against the Holy Bulwark for the sake of creatures of the night and foreigners'. It would be for our own sake, for the sake of reinstating our nation's glory. Do not forget the secrets of Magic and sorcery we learned in tandem with imperialism. Even now, India, our shining jewel, still provides us with valuable information, although the Hindu Pantheon has been stirring. Involving ourselves has been historically beneficial. Do not forget the purpose of us Magicians - to push onward and unearth the depths of Magic. Achieving a truly significant bond with the Underworld and Magus Association could be akin to opening an unblemished Library of Alexandria. Isolation is stagnation, passivity; action brings results."

Lord Augustin de Dupont du Lac d'Antoninus leaned forward, placing his arms on the Round Table. "I tire of this charade. Do you all forget the haplessness of Devils in the face of Holy Energy? Allow me to show you."

Another hologram appeared in the air, showing a certain Vasco Strada punching a Devil in the sternum, who seemed to evaporate at the seams and explode outward.

"Not convinced? Then, here is the might of a Holy-empowered neophyte, as I know of the unnatural strength of Vasco Strada."

The scene shifted to a certain Ioann Maksymovich Ivanov slaughtering a squad of Devils with nothing but instincts and Holy Energy.

"Do you wish to see the Vampires, too?"

The image morphed, showing a certain Vasco Strada grabbing a shapeshifted Vampire by the neck - and even with a minor amount of force applied, its flesh scalded and seared and melted to a beefy slag.

"Neither fare particularly well against the more mundane Exorcists, I'm afraid."

Next, a Devil was bisected with a Light Sword, the most generic weapon of the Papacy. A Vampire was decapitated. Another Devil blocked an overhead swing with his hand, but the blade sunk into his arm, eliciting a scream. A Sacred Gear user strangled a Stray Devil with tendrils of shadow.

"They face their natural enemy. Do you forget that the Devils never even reached Heaven in the Great War? And they advance their tactics, too."

Artillery pounded at Devil fortresses, one shot vaporizing an unwitting Devil upon contact.

"And who is to say that the Angels will not descend themselves? That is not to mention the current role of the Magus Syndicate in the war. They huddle in the innermost concentration camps of the Reich, doing no fighting of their own. The situation is not favorable for involvement."

Lord Augustin steepled his fingers. "We cannot trust to win the conflict with such detestable allies, and I'll have no talk of any faraway benefits while the Church is positioned so well."

Just before a Wizard rose to retort, an unknown voice rang out in response.

"Need I remind this congregation to be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of heart?"

The holographic constructs of location beyond the Magicians shattered. Their edifices crumbled. The screens displaying instances of Devil and Vampire weakness followed suit.

"Such obsequious praises and servile utterances had rang out previously. What occurred? For I recall a wastrel serenading with approbations of a most ostentatious nature, yet his encomium was not outlying. Simply substitute that Pyre of Alexandria - it had no cherished magicks; I can assure you with the sway of a grand emprise - with manuscripts of a more alchemical nature."

The pieces disintegrated to dust, and the room was left a material monument to sorcerous vanity, though the Magicians themselves were left untouched. Some immediately cut the connection, holograms dissolving; others stayed, unfearing, for the defenses against Mind Magic had yet to be disturbed.

"Namely, Flamel's. [2] And even a fool such as he had his uses."

A golden throne loomed over the table, appearing from nowhere. Atop it sat an exceedingly large figure adorned in flowing robes of alabaster, his visage bearing a mask of damascus steel. [3]

"He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house: he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight. For Flamel was a cretin, an imbecile, mendacious indeed - and he is resigned to entropy as consequence, with his false Philosopher's Stone. The wages of sin against us is death, as you should well know. But, can value, inspiration, not be drawn from even the most withered fig tree once it is felled? Better yet, before its roots are torn from the earth?"

The figure leaned forward.

"But you would not know of this just yet. The lot causeth contentions to cease, and parteth between the mighty. And this bloodshed is my lot, the harvest that it is. For if it should bear fruit, we shall all feast… That is, if you would accept a seat at the banquet."

The figure leaned back, setting its hands on the armrests of the throne.

"Would you like to hear more, little magi?" Simon Magus, Injurious Seer of Perfidy, Reviled Magus, Father of Warlocks, asked.

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[1] William Wynn Westcott is an actual founder of the Golden Dawn in real life. The Golden Dawn is a very influential occultist society from the late 19th century and early 20th century, in case you don't know, and they're confirmed to exist in DxD. MacGregor Mathers is the guy they're referring to, who is another real life founder and a member of Sirzechs Lucifer's Peerage in DxD; that's not my own fanon. (Because I'm not a fan of DxD.)

[2] Nicolas Flamel is a historical figure that is said to have created the Philosopher's Stone and became immortal. Although, here, there's clearly more going on.

[3] Imagine the Leper King/Prince Baldwin IV in the movie, Kingdom of Heaven, but more majestic (AKA the robes are bigger and flow more) and without Christian embroidery.

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I'd like to make it clear that other than the mention of MacGregor Mathers and Falbium Asmodeus, none of this is canon. But I don't really have much to work with when it comes to DxD like this, and Simon Magus is a sorcerer so famous that he's in the Bible, so I had to include him as my own creation. He's the one that popularized the usage of Magus as a term for a Magician in fiction I'm pretty sure, although he's not the actual root of the word. He tried to bribe Peter into letting him become an Apostle in the Bible, but there are a lot of apocryphal (historical and religious fanfiction, basically) mentions of him, which are mostly what I'll be basing him off of. Because he'll be very significant in my story.

Sorry for making his speech unnecessarily difficult to understand, but he's over 2,000 years old and I can't have him speak like any other nobody. It's either this or I write it in Aramaic, and trust me, both are a pain (not that I know Aramaic). I'll tone his vocabulary and crypticism down later on if you guys complain enough.

Anyway, was my 3rd POV bad? I'll be sticking to 1st POV no matter what, but maybe I'll experiment with 3rd more.

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