[//Recollection Log 2: REINE FANBLOG!!
Author: REINEFAN72 Date: xx/xx/30CA 342nd Sept. Cycle of the Void Sun]
The hurried, dissonant violins clashed against the low, umbral roar of the brass, their sound reverberating through the Recollection Hall deep within the Librarium-class ship FALZCHEN.
The orchestra was playing the final piece of today’s recollection ceremony: the infamous Threnody of Ash and Snow, Opus Fifteen.
I recalled Father Zaleri’s sermons, in which the piece was described as a song of remembrance for the tragedy that befell the Holy Maiden Inaris. She was said to have succumbed to madness shortly after the Battle of the Thornless Roses at the The Grand Expanse.
Though some claimed she fell in combat, the more enduring account held that Inaris died of her own wounds—self-inflicted after she tore out her silver eyes to rid herself of the curse of futuresight, when every vision she received foretold only destruction and suffering. On stage, silver-alloy automata played their string instruments in perfect unison.
Their movements were precise, almost reverent, each gesture uncannily human, though their faces remained expressionless. The melodies were haunting — the cantus firmus, the main melody played by the violins, rose and fall hurriedly, perhaps echoing Inaris’ descent into madness. A countermelody was played by the brass section, slow and steady, like a looming beast waiting to devour Inaris when she finally succumbed.
The automata were seated facing a tall figure at the center of the stage, who calmly traced measured motions through the air with their hands. The conductor’s slow and relaxed gestures was an ironic counterpoint to the song’s themes. The conductor’s face was hidden, turned away from the audience, and it was impossible to tell whether they, too, were an automaton.
The thought of machines needing to follow a conductor—of needing to appease one at all—briefly amused me. As if waking from a trance, I realized the piece was already nearing its end.
A final chord hung in the air, stripped of any sense of harmony. The automata dragged their bows across the strings at uneven intervals, a tremolo motion producing a shivering, wail that sounded almost like voices in pain.
The brass section, meanwhile, sustained a single chord—unchanging, yet swelling and receding, like a tide gathering force before it breaks.
For a moment, I wondered how the automata produced breath for the replica instruments, or whether the sound was only an illusion.
The noise swelled into a metallic crescendo, threaded with hints of static—and then, abruptly, silence. The piece was over. As if on cue, the automata’s heads dropped in unison, their limbs falling slack at their sides. Almost immediately after, the stage lights cut out, plunging the hall into darkness.
With the orchestra now motionless, only the silhouette of the conductor remained. The shadow descended from the stage and moved into the center aisle of the mezzanine, where the audience would have been. There was no applause. As the figure approached the faint glow of the mezzanine lights, her face came into view.
The conductor was a tall, dark-haired woman with amber eyes and a scar running along her right cheek. With a swift motion, she removed her oxblood-colored overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, scanning the empty seats, her gaze restless, as if searching for someone. Instinctively, I covered my mouth to still my breathing, forgetting that the lights already betrayed my presence. For a brief moment, her eyes met mine.
There was something like recognition there. Then her mouth tightened into a slight frown. She looked away, exhaled sharply, and turned toward the exit. As she passed my seat, I lowered my head. I sensed the faint trace of incense lingering in the air. I quickly glanced at her I.D. card.
I’ll swear to never forget her name and callsign from that day since: “RECOLLECTOR REINE”
-REINEFAN72
