12 Miles Below

“You have talent.” Hexis said, flatly. Jeweled hands folding up. “Had you been born in civilization, I am certain your aptitude and search for knowledge would have inevitably drawn the guild's eyes."

“Have they met the Logi up here yet? If you’re looking for math zealots, knock on their window. Could also introduce them to some of the Reachers I know, they’re just as obsessed. Some of them even know how to flirt back.”

Hexis sighed, “Must you turn everything into a jest, apprentice?”

“Absolutely.” I said, dead serious. “I’m a package deal. Buy one get one free.”

He closed his eyes, likely contemplating his life choices. "Very well. The most distinguished warlocks are all inherently insufferable anyhow; you'll fit right in.”

“Insufferable is my middle name.” I shot him a thumbs up. “Well, it’s not official, but I've been considering doing the paperwork. So, master, what’s first? Any actual occult lessons or still planning more calculus?”

“Given that you've already surpassed the prerequisites for apprenticeship, we will begin with the fundamental rules that bind all warlocks, and all occult practitioners, irrespective of their lineage."

Right into it then, nice. “Wait, hold the airspeeders - you warlocks discovered actual rules for the occult?”

As far as I understood, the occult was straight up unguessable. No way to know if a fractal was recognized as a spell or not, until actually physically tired. Or at least that’s what Talen knew at the time. Maybe there were a few breakthroughs in the meanwhile.

“Taken aback that there are rules you cannot break?” Hexis asked, sounding puzzled for a moment before he seemed to realize what I meant. “Oh, you mistake the meaning. Not those kinds of rules.” He must have seen my face drop at that, since he turned the topic straightaway. “But do not lose all hope, rules describing the behaviors and patterns in the occult do exist. Along with various control techniques yielding predictable outcomes. Philosophy as well, if you’re so inclined, ruminating on what, or who, the occult is. In due time, we will explore those. Once we have cleared the core rules.”

“What kind of 'core rules' are you talking about then?”

“Common sense.” He said immediately. “Social etiquette. When to use the occult, along with when to not. Everything that surrounds being an Occult practitioner, warlock or other. That was part of my agreement with your clan, to guide you past those pitfalls.”

“Seems very specific to culture. You know one man’s insult is another man’s praise? And you say all occultists end up with the same rules all over the world?”

"Yes. Exactly so." He tapped his tea, then picked it up high, watching it. "All occultists, from all over the world - and across time as well." Then he wiggled the cup, "A refill, if you please - not you apprentice. Them. I know you’re all listening in through the door and walls. At least be useful.” Then he turned to me, putting the cup down. “Similar to mathematics, there are a set of true answers and a set of incorrect ones. Regardless of your personal opinions, the true answers will always be true, while the false ones will always be false.”

“All right, so how strict are they enforcing these rules, master? There some kind of secret Warlock Chenobi that’ll slide through the curtains if I get caught?” I said, a little annoyed that this was just politics. "Or am I going to be fined and have a rebuke sent to my House about it?"

At this he smiled. “Why yes, 'enforcers' you might call them that. As I mention to your clan’s First Blade earlier, the enforcers here bear significantly less… ahh, humanity than your clan's more modest version. And far less mercy as well."

“Oh.” He meant machines. Should have seen that coming. "So these aren't social rules, more survival rules?"

“Indeed.” He took a longer sip of his tea, this time clearly for dramatics. “Break these core laws, and at best you will die. In the worst-case, your stupidity leads not only to your own death but also to the annihilation of your city and the surrounding territories. This is precisely why these rules are the second item taught, once we've weeded those incapable of being a warlock and unworthy of spending effort on.”

The door slid open and a servant walked in, carrying a teapot. She set it down next to Hexis, then gently refiled the only cup still in the room. Father had the second one, and the warlock hadn’t yet asked for it back.

Without a word, the servant left, bowing slightly to us before sliding the door closed.

He took the cup and sipped at it, with a satisfied sigh. Then a hand came up, with a single finger. “Given what I’ve said, what do you guess is the first tenant of any occultist?”

“Secrecy.” I said.

“Correct, apprentice.” He said, smiling. “You catch on fast, even if that mouth of yours keeps rattling. Secrecy at all costs is the first tenant. Commit all occult equations to memory, never write them down, and if you must, do so on parchment paper - to be burned immediately after. Never share knowledge. More permanent equations written down must stay deep inside a tower, within the radius of a pillar heart, and preferably locked up from even your fellow compatriots, least one of them turn to be an idiot.”

“And be absolute dicks about making all fractals near impossible to see or discover.” I remembered the work I did to dig out the division fractal from a warlock blade. That was about as fun as eating glass shards or telling Ankah she was right about something.

He nodded, a slight smile to it. “A common belief is that warlocks shroud their knowledge in secrecy solely to uphold their monopoly and influence. They’re half right. If machines find occult equations, they will annihilate the source, with various effort depending on how complex or powerful the fractal itself is. Similarly, if you are visiting a city and stumble upon a guild cataloging equations openly, or some sideways sect that’s far more loose with their secrets - flee. That city is doomed for culling. Judgment could arrive in the next hour or the next year, best to be safe.”

Wrath was brand new to being a Feather and she beat down a fully established city with a full garrison of mercenaries in a matter of weeks. If To’Aacar or some more ruthless Feather had been sent instead, I could easily see the whole place torched to the ground. To’Sefit alone would have probably just lasered the pillar heart from a few dozen miles away, all while laughing behind her fingers.

“Okay, I’m on board with keeping occult stuff hidden away.”

He gave a nod, as if it was evident that I would. "As you might guess, memorizing mathematical formulas is a learned skill that takes years to develop for apprentices, and they aren’t taught a single hint of purified metal until then. Up here on the surface however... there’s almost no risk of leaking secrets, given both your cultural and physical isolation from civilization and machines at large. No surface clans have ever discovered occult lineages up here in all the centuries warlocks have kept track of. You sava- you surface dwellers are too focused on survival, and the ruins that emerge up here will have been long scrubbed clean of the Occult. Given how precious armors are, clans and othersiders are practically locked away from discovering the wild-armor lineage. You are the first clan I’ve heard of to have discovered any kind of lineage.”

"Wild armor lineage?"

He waved his hands, as if it wasn't important. "Relic armors contain a small set of fractals, including the forbidden one. When engineers with large enough egos believe they can crack the secrets of what makes golden age armors work, they have a chance of discovering the inner occult instead. They end up attuned and generally the linage grows with pillar hearts and the inscribed fractals upon them. Wild armor traditions don't last very long, as they appear without true introduction, they have no way of knowing the dangers that comes with knowledge. Surface clans venerate armor, it's built into your culture to avoid breaking them open to study. Even your fringe elements like Othersiders and criminals find armor to be too useful to spare the few weeks needed to break them down for study."

He had the right idea about it, in theory. The truth was a little more grim. Machines might police the underground, but up here it was Tsyua and her orbital death lasers. I imagine a lot of clans did end up discovering the occult in some way, only to get wiped off before they could spread that knowledge further.

“What’s the second law?” I asked.

“That will be all for today.” Hexis said instead, tapping the table. “You will take the time to truly contemplate how dangerous this art is to both yourself, and those you surround yourself with. Your clan is already quite adapt at keeping things hidden and secret, I doubt you will have trouble understanding the gravity. Return tomorrow with an essay written, listing every secrecy rule that you believe an average warlock guild should enforce, and exactly why such a rule would come to be. We’ll compare it to the true rules and discuss then. Standard font, three pages long at minimum.”

I gave a tut. “So not even a little occult training today? After all that math and work?” Honestly the math part had been pretty fun. I’m not complaining that the prerequisite to be a warlock happen to be something I find interesting to study in the first place. All those years working with the Reachers paid off.

He looked back at me for a moment, then shrugged. “As you wish, I suppose some direction is in order. Here is a short lesson to mull over: Fractals are far more than metal plates with electric currents running through them. Any pattern anywhere in reality. And there are far more definitions of power than electricity. The occult does not exist in a vacuum either, spells will overlap and interfere with one another, in predictable and repeatable ways.”

He raised his teacup, then flicked it with his other hand. Again the same pulse of occult spread through the room, and the teacup went floating through the air, droplets of amber tea forming bubbles floating with the cup.

He gave a shrill whistle, flicking the cup at the same time. It once more spun around, struck by the occult spell, but it began to float downwards. Gravity greatly weakened rather than completely absent. The amber bubbles of tea that had separated from the cup earlier remained suspended in the air, watching as their original carrier floated slowly down. Another whistle, with a different pitch and the cup dropped faster.

He caught it in a free hand, then hummed with a low timber, making a complicated hand sign, aimed directly into the cup. Occult pulsed around him, as the liquid inside seemed to sink into the cup slightly, becoming a flat surface, unmoving. Almost like ice. He lifted the cup up to the floating amber bubbles, and they were immediately sucked right back in like a vacuum.

Satisfied, he put the teacup down on the table, made a clicking noise and a final occult pulse came through weakly. The hold inside was released, and the tea rose slightly back to where it was before, behaving like water again.

"There. Ruminate over exactly what I’ve revealed of the occult with this demonstration and my prior introduction. I expect another written essay detailing at minimum three conclusions, and supporting evidence for each. Same rules as the prior essay.”

“I can’t believe you’re putting me through this.” I said, groaning. “I have other things to do in my time than write you know?”

"Ah yes, there it is. Students complaining about workload. At last, some familiar ground in this rusted place.” He leaned on the table, hands folded up politely, before staring me down. “Listen well: I took on a commitment to train you as my apprentice. It’s been years since I last taught a student, possibly even a decade or more since I became a grand warlock. I find everything up here to be in chaos, constantly changing, covered in rust. But by all that is pure, this part I will do exactly as described, to the fullest I am able. You will be trained as a warlock, and what you do or become with the skills I teach you will be at your discretion once we are done. However, the path and instruction to reach that point will be at my discretion and command. Be here tomorrow, same hour, same location. Dismissed, apprentice."

I walked out of that room with far more to think about than anything. First conclusion I had: Hexis may be a political schemer today, but he still had the skill and knowledge of a warlock to back him up. No one learned this much without having some kind of passion behind it.

“You learned much.” Father said, walking next to me as we returned to our estate grounds. Shadowsong remained behind, watching us go. Helmet turning back to where Hexis would be, as if he could see the warlock between the walls. The door slid shut between us, leaving him and the chenobi guard to handle the eccentric man while the Winterscar knights left with us.

“I spent just three hours and I’ve already got a few dozen things in my head to pick at.” I said. “Sure, he might be a pretentious asshole on the level even Ankah would nod in respect, but hey, everyone’s got some rough edges.”

“His attitude is irrelevant. So long as you learn new means of fighting.”

“You sound like you got some snow on your shoulder about something, Father. Mind telling me?” Lately he’d been dragging me to spar as if he was a man possessed on a mission.

He stayed quiet for a moment, the two of us walking across catwalks in the clan. People bowed as he passed by, recognizing him as the elusive Deathless somehow, despite his face being a rare sight. Journey kept our conversation private, with only Wrath able to listen in if she was close enough.

“I’ve spent time searching through To’Avalis’s memories of the underground.” He finally said. “What we’ll find.”

“That bad?”

He grunted as an answer and left it at that. We walked in comfortable silence through the clan, and for once I felt like I’d measured up to some of his standards. At least for today.

The Winterscar estate ground loomed soon enough, gates already opening as the staff saw us arriving through the crowds.

“Abraxas, the machine guide. When will it arrive?” Father asked, breaking the silence.

That was a very fair question. Last I’d seen him, he’d been lurking around the temple, keeping an eye on our group. That temple was now a few layers under, and then a week’s worth of airspeeder travel. And airspeeders travel fast on the surface, not a lot of danger of running into anything and the human condition of wanting to go fast-fast was a killer combo.

He had a floating rowboat loaded with occult. Even if it was as zippy as a full airspeeder by some hidden feature Wrath and I never figured out, he certainly wasn’t going to be speeding on the surface. Occult invisible cloak or not, he hadn’t survived this long by taking chances. So he’ll be traveling underground, and have to navigate through that.

“A month? Maybe two or three at the latest. Assuming he’s still on the way here.” I said, walking through the busy courtyard.

Looked like another shipment of blades had arrived, waiting for Wrath, Father or myself to inscribe fractals inside them. Work never ends.

“For all I know about him, he might never come. Lot of red flags everywhere in this mission. Feathers, gods, old history being dragged left and right. Feels like we’re in the middle of something that might actually change the world. I mean, if I were in his suit following his goals I’d pick any direction that’s away from here and never look back.”

“It will come.” Father said. “Tsyua and the mites are both demanding it to return. Old favors owed.”

“Did you learn anything about him from Tsuya?” I asked, a little curious about the mysterious friend. We reached the Winterscar vault, or rather one of many that had been recently installed.

Inside were a few suits of armor being polished up by staff, while their owners were asleep. Other Houses, their vault would have their armor front and center on the few times it wasn’t in use. Ours was running into a space issue, with armors practically squeezed up against each other.

“From Tsuya, little. From Avalis’s memories, I found more.” He said as I disengaged Journey’s locks and let the servants help me out of the armor.

“Thanks,” I said as a maid took off the stuffy helmet and placed it in place. Armor was comfortable enough, but staying in it for days on end made it feel like a small tomb. Clean air on my skin felt like bliss. “Avalis had info about Abraxas?” Maybe the paranoid bastard wasn’t paranoid enough, and Avalis found info on him.

“Not intentionally.” Father said out loud now, shooting down my imagination. “He uncovered information when searching through archives. What he found was the original uprising.”

“What exactly happened back then?”

Two knights had arrived to keep me escorted and were waiting outside the vault. Likely asked for by Father through comms at some point. One I’d just trained with earlier in the morning too.

“Go to sleep for now,” Father grunted, pointedly looking down the hallway leading to my room. “We can talk in the morning. After training.”