12 Miles Below

“You are unneeded.” Father growled out, stalking behind our assembled group of knights.

“My orders are absolute.” Shadowsong answered back. “I am the first blade of the clan lord. I will follow his will and the will of the clan. Even if it’s in conflict with your own demands, Winterscar, regardless of whatever you’ve become.”

Walking down the emptied hallways in direction of the guest estates, I found myself in a very odd predicament. A few months back, if someone said either the Shadowsong prime or Father would have my well being in mind, I’d think a few bolts had been loosened up in their head.

Father’s real motivations turned out to be far more alien to the Winterscar motto. He just had a very strange way of showing it. And Shadowsong had been oddly protective of me ever since I technically beat him during the snowstorm fight.

Kidra claimed it was because of personal shame that he’d temporarily lost faith in his own clan lord, and this was his way of offering unworded reparations. He attempted to kill me for a bad reason, so now he was bound by a good reason to ensure my safety anywhere he could.

“He is my son. You overstep your bounds, Ikusari.”

“Direct kin or not, that has no baring to my orders. He is our clan’s foremost occult specialist.” Shadowsong said. “I will not delegate this task to others when I can do it myself.”

There’d been a long discussion among the clan council and Lord Atius on what to do with our latest guest - a grand warlock from the underground guilds. The very same ones that made every occult weapon and trinket out there.

Any other situation, the clan would have been absolutely thrilled to welcome someone like that. Given the recent history, we were a little weary of guests right now.

And by weary, I mean murder was a possible option that was debated and measured by Logi cost-return spreadsheets. Logi and their logistics, making sure everything had a number attached.

Ultimately, we can’t kill the bastard because the warlock guilds would not appreciate that. Go figure. Can’t threaten or torture the bastard, same reason. They had close ties with the Deathless, on account of being their weapons dealer. Lord Atius didn’t want to mess that up for all the other Deathless.

And all that would also probably result in a few people getting exiled by Atius if he found out it was carried out. Deathless were known for iron-clad morality, and Lord Atius wasn’t an exception. That he even allowed the Logi to debate the topic in the first place was mostly because he already knew they’d be tossing the option out.

The clan could easily turn the warlock away, kick him back to where he came from with a shirt and maybe a souvenir cup. And there was a strong argument to do that. But the clan was predicted to succeed against the raiders by all metrics, which wasn’t the good news that it sounded like.

It meant the raiders would soon get desperate and pull something off to stem the bleeding as their dying song. Having every bit of advantage stacked up and ready to go was something that appealed to a lot of the council.

Not to say the warlock was just an innocent grand warlock who happened to come up here because he had rediscovered morality and wanted to fight for a cause.

Sagrius had already testified Hexis only started caring about the surface when video footage of Kidra fighting Wrath came out. So he was assuredly looking for power, and none too subtle about it either.

Shadowsong could sense the concept of betrayal and disloyalty within the man, the issue was who’s betrayal. He was certainly willing to divulge all the secrets of his guild in exchange for working with the clan’s occult specialists, so that disloyalty Shadowsong detected was almost certainly aimed back at his own home.

That was probably what was going on here. His life, plots and goals were on a completely separate track to us, we weren't even a footnote in his world until we showed up all at once. There was very little reason to betray the highly armed and extremely dangerous surface clan that had next to nothing to do with him. And who also had him surrounded.

Chenobis had been sent out to sniff information from his crew and escorts anyhow, simply by standard operation. Other than those Undersiders setting up shop next to the pirates and both sides giving each other the cordial stink eye, there wasn’t much more to find out on that front.

The real catch is that the warlock hadn’t asked to learn our secrets. Instead, he offered to take on an apprentice. Hand out his own guild’s secrets on a platter, of which was more than just fractals, and the only return he wanted was to have a fresh pair of eyes look over and see what could be made of it jointly.

He wanted to return home with power to take back his place. He didn’t care if we kept everything discovered under wraps so long as he returned home with something. Or if the clan migrated in his lifetime, perhaps even setup the beginnings of a warlock's guild among the new city we'd make.

A good deal for everyone really. Out of the entire clan, the best - and mostly only - occult researcher had come down to little old me. Although, I think Atius was doing this mostly to give me every extra bit of fighting chance when I went underground. Having a dedicated occult teacher could possibly be the difference between dying or living. Which was why I was sent out with heavy company.

Father didn’t answer Shadowsong’s earlier outburst, instead choosing to stare the man down as they walked. Given he loomed over everyone now with his stolen body, the effect was impressive enough to make me squeamish, and I wasn’t even the target.

Shadowsong stared right back up, unmoving. “This is no time for petty pride, Winterscar.”

“All I see is pride.” Father said. “The guard detail of my daughter’s knights are enough. You made an unneeded choice to come.”

“How do you explain yourself here if your House’s knight are enough to safeguard your charge?”

“I tolerate your presence. Nothing more.”

“Base deflection, Winterscar. I tolerate your presence just as much. You’ve failed the clan in your own ways. You are the last to be allowed judgment for another’s mistakes.”

Father’s hand snapped out and grabbed Shadowsong’s throat, lifting him up and putting a full stop to our march forward. “I failed to protect my kin. You attempted to murder my kin. We are not in the same league. I have every right to judge you, and you will not weasel away from my reckoning like a rat. Understand this: I do not forgive you. And I will not forget. That occult knife at your belt will not save you from me.”

“I have no intentions to harm your son ever again.” Shadowsong said, then grabbed the hand lifting him up and leaned closer. “They say you can tell truth from lies now. Am I lying, Winterscar?”

Father paused for a moment, gave a disgusted tut, and lowered the Shadowsong prime slowly. “No. You are not.”

“Then we are in agreement.” Shadowsong said. “I do not care if you choose to follow behind. But I will not allow Keith out of my sight. I am honorbound.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Father gave another grunt and turned to continue the way. That seemed to patch up the rift between the two, for the moment, and we reached our destination in time to put on a unified front.

The guest estates were rather fancy compared to the rest of the clan. Lot more room in there, and plenty of actual walls for privacy. Murals and poems lined the walls, stories and songs of our clan’s history and trials. The architecture was also slightly different, with a more warm atmosphere. Logi spent some time picking exactly the right lighting to use to make the whole place seem rather cozy and spacious, without actually taking up that much space.

It also had its own dedicated heater, shaped like a hearth embedded into one of the walls.

There was signs of people living inside, though none of them were in the welcoming room. Only the cleaning staff, and a few standard clan guards with rifles acting as security. They all gave deep bows when they saw Father walk in, which must have annoyed Shadowsong to no end.

Still technically the correct etiquette. Father was a Deathless, that put him above even regular clan lords.

“Lord Deathless,” one of the guards said, coming out of his bow. “The warlock and his undersider escorts are waiting in their dining room.”

That would be the door further down into the area, where a Chenobi was waiting patiently just outside.

He gave a deep bow as well when we reached him, and then pulled the screen door open to allow us entrance.

Inside was the warlock himself sitting right on the center chair, behind a large table with a small set of comically small ceramic cups prepared. All around were his escort detail, one of which was holding a tea set at the ready, right behind the man, while wearing full relic armor.

A sober reminder that Undersiders were filthy rich and could afford to have even their private butlers outfitted.

We did have one problem with all this and it wasn’t the number of cups on the table: The titular warlock in the center was slumped on his chair. Dying.

Brain activity at near zero, heartbeat and breathing equally slow. Blood pressure was down, and body temperature rapidly cooling as well. Either he’d been poisoned just now, or he was having the best sleep ever. Except it's not the sleep option, Journey made it abundantly clear there was a medical emergency going on and the warlock’s armor was going haywire with distress signals.

I didn’t get much more time to verify anything else. His escort detail seemed to seize up on themselves, draw and light up their occult blades, then grimly advance forward.

“You can’t be serious.” I said, more baffled by the audacity to attack a fully armed team of knights - especially ones that fought Feathers and machines head to head.

Did we just walk into some Undersider murder plot? After all those hours debating the merits of keeping the warlock here or not, he goes and gets himself killed in the most anti-climatic manner possible.

What was their plan even? Kill the witnesses? Get through all of us, and then the servants and guards behind us before they could go tell anyone what’s happened?

The Winterscar knights weren’t thinking about schemes and plots, they shoved me behind their line and closed ranks around me, while Father and Shadowsong advanced straight into the enemy. Undersiders must have known Kidra could move like the wind, but they clearly didn’t expect Father and Shadowsong to both be just as fast and far more brutal.

A few seconds in and one knight had already been kicked straight into a wall by Father, Shadowsong had another knight disarmed and flipped on the ground, while the third knight was backpedaling hard and still failing to defend against the first blade’s relentless assault.

Father was outright stalking to the last knight, grabbing the man’s blade directly on the occult edge and crushing it faster than it could eat through his shield when the man tried to make a move. Occult blades still had a flat part that could be easily bent and ripped apart. Especially in the hands of a Feather who knew where the division fractal was.

The blade’s broken edge winked out moment later as some part of the inner fractal must have bent out of shape. Father casually tossed the ruined thing to his side, eyes still locked straight on the enemy knight, outright murder written in bold letters on his face.

The butler with the tea set stayed behind, watching with mild interest, as if four of their elite knights getting bulldozed down by two clan knights was nothing unexpected.

A pulse of occult bathed the room in that same moment, quickly putting a stop to everyone inside. It had come from the slumped body on the chair, and that’s where we realized we’d all been had.

See, we’d all been focused on the advancing knights on account to them being an actual threat. The real catch had been the warlock - specifically the little necklace under his armor. Couldn’t have known about that in any other situation, but it was clear as day in the soul sight when I turned my attention to the pulse’s source.

At the center of that little necklace was the concept of a soul fractal. And if we could see it, then it could see us in it’s own soul sight as active soul fractals as well.

The fractal winked out a moment later, turned off. The warlock’s eye flared open nearly the same moment.

“Interesting.” Hexis said, sitting back up in his seat and patting down the mussed clothing. He gave a cough, one more readjustment in his seat, and then leaned across the table, hands folded together at their tips.

That gave me my first real look at this grand warlock.

First impression of him was a boring Logi worker. Complete with a receding hairline and some white hairs mixed in with the dark. The second impression was of a rich boring Logi worker. He had quite the decorations on his armor. No helmet, and oddly enough no gauntlets. Instead his hands were filled with smaller rings and bangles, even had rectangular earrings dangling from the lobes, also filled with stenciled pictures. A long intricate and violently colorful robe kept most of the armor hidden under. There was an outline of a hood folded up by his neck, and more than one long chain necklace keeping everything pressed down.

“Very interesting.” He said again, his nods making metal sounds as multiple pieces of dangling decorations clicked against each other. “Escorts, stand down, surrender your weapons and vacate the room. I have what I need.”

The Undersider knights all seemed to take a breath of relief, turning off their blades and letting them drop onto the ground, hands raising above their heads. The one who’d been kicked into the wall was still trying to pry himself out of the dented metal behind him, but shortly put his hands up as well once he got free.

“There will be a reckoning for spitting in the face of hospitality.” Shadowsong growled out.

“Oh, I’m certain there will be some fees to pay.” Hexis said, waving a hand. “That will be discussed at another time, first blade. Go ahead and send my escorts into holding. They’re not privy to what I plan to speak about next anyhow.”

Shadowsong’s helmet hid his features, but I think he might have been trying hard not to break a blood vessel somewhere. “Winterscars, three of you take the Undersider knights and escort them into holding. Contact the clan lord and inform him of the events. By my authority, call further knights down here to lock the area. Have the guards and serving staff vacate as well, in case further violence happens.”

“First blade.” The knight next to me saluted, then nodded at two others.

In moments, there were only two Winterscar knights, Shadowsong, Father and I left in the warlock’s guest room. While the man in question smiled back, as if everything was unfolding according to plan.

“Using the forbidden fractal, across all of you, and tomb-bound souls as well.” He said, tapping one of his teacups. “My, seems I have my work cut out for me already. None of you could have possibly known this, but it’s not called the forbidden fractal for a laugh.

Let’s have a more civilized chat. Before you all end up killing yourselves.”