12 Miles Below

“Splendid.” Hexis said, putting down the chopsticks on his empty plate. “Absolutely splendid.” Not a single insect to pick at, just pure and true roasted chicken instead. And he’d gotten a tad better with the strange eating utensils. Forks and knives were far more civilized in his mind, but he may as well indulge the savages up here.

They certainly knew how to cook chicken breast at the very least. Sebastis would investigate the recipe later, the man was a gifted cook. In addition to informant, conspirator, and overall handyman.

“Sebastis, my armor if you would.” He asked, waving in his butler. “I believe it is time for an afternoon rest. Carry the plate back to the kitchen, and deliver my compliments to the chef.”

The man nodded dutifully, taking the empty plate and passing it along to one of the surface servants, before returning with the armor display stand, on its little wheels. The door sliding shut behind him for privacy.

Warlocks weren’t fond of armors. They often got in the way of quick casting, and if surrounding knights were not enough to handle the threat, no amount of armor would save the warlock. Dreadfully stuffy as well, with that ever unclean feeling of knowing there is no grime or sweat within the armor, and yet being unable to truly believe it.

Still, he had work to do. And the armor was necessary, not just to survive the outside temperature. None of the surface dwellers here knew that bit of history anyhow, they hadn’t been suspicious at all of his armor. Rather, if he had come without any, they would have considered him a possible fraud. As silly to think as that was.

The butler carefully positioned the display stand and began to remove plates, setting them on the table, while Hexis brought out his computer slate.

He’d done this a few times thus far, each time with nothing of importance to note. Nervewracking all the same, rust blast it all.

A few keystrokes following a precise pattern deployed a trojan horse he’d inserted into the security camera monitoring his office. Rather well hidden all in all, but diving into the weave could reveal the concepts of a camera no matter where the sneaky surface dwellers attempt to hide such things.

The digital code had done exactly what the Feather had promised - a way to hide what he truly did.

It took some time, working with his butler, to swap armors. But Hexis had little else to do regardless, so time taken didn’t bother him overall. Soon, he had swapped places.

“I will return within three hours. Do keep appearances in check, if you would so kindly.” Hexis said, giving his servant a nod.

The man nodded back, “Of course, your magnificence. And of the scheduled meeting?”

"I have sent a request to Lord Atius, I'm certain he would agree to meeting with you for dinner. If he does not, I will insist in other manners." Hexis said without much thought. The butler had always showed interest at any Deathless, given his imperial faith. Having him invited to a dine with his heroes was certainly an easy request to fulfil and harmless enough. "Never let it be said I do not reward those under my employ."

In reality, all the butler had to do was sleep. Hexis had done this multiple times now, sleeping in his armor, until it was a known habit to his observers. They believed him to be paranoid, keeping himself protected at his most vulnerable. In a way they were right.

Equally, since his knight escorts had been dismissed and replaced by the clan knights, he had his servant go out to the marketplace and return with food, trinkets, books and other items of interest. Each day, often for the duration of the day.

So when he walked out of his office, the knights and administration around him only saw a servant walking off to make his rounds. Mimicking someone else’s voice was trivial for Hexis, his occult training had taught him how to make utterly inhuman noises all to replicate specific soundwaves.

Sebastis would never know his true goals of course, the butler likely believed Hexis prefered to explore the clan without scrutiny. There was certainly quite a bit to explore, given the dense urban development optimized for space conservation and insulation. The architecture of surface clans alone was unique compared to any other human city, even if Hexis already knew what to expect. Seeing it in person was still delightful in a manner of speaking. Quite a treasure trove of collectible memorabilia and trinkets to bring home with as well.

Unfortunately, his current assignment was less than delightful.

Deeper into the market place, he took off following his new armor’s HUD. The map made it clear where to go. Past the stalls, down the stairs until he reached the seedier locations of the clan. Where the houseless would live. Criminal elements were a staple to humanity as a whole, no society was ever truly free of it. Even one led by a Deathless had a balance set to it.

They existed, almost like a parallel society that followed its own rules and made sure to steer clear of anyone who wasn’t part of the circle. Hexis made his way through one such alley, lowly lit, taking time to act suspicious and on guard.

His follower crept slowly behind, loitering by the alley.

Down the warlock went, further and further until he reached the caverns. Superstitious stories and poems were written all across the walls, ceiling and floors now. Warnings of danger. Of metal made nightmare.

And further past all of that nonsense, was an actual blockage. Sealed up tight, made to be never re-opened. A place most regular surface dwellers never visited. And an excellent area for the seedier part of the clan to lurk in. Hexis found a wall and sat down beside it, waiting for a man to come by and deliver a package of Jedrith leaf. A mild non-addictive hallucinogenic, rather low on the narcotics level compared to undersider society, but up here it was about the best that could be home-grown under the clan lord’s careful eye.

He personally had little care for the drug. What he wanted was to have something larger to distract the spy’s report. While he waited, the true objective appeared.

A comms signal connected.

The one that would soon speak with that accursed voice. The metal devil he’d sold his pure soul in exchange for power.

To’Avalis. The Feather. The one who would give Hexis everything he could dream of.

Hexis was nothing more than a heretic who chose to save his own life in exchange for dooming another’s.

Business. People died all the time. What was a few more to the altar of base human instinct? He felt no remorse or shame about the trade. None whatsoever.

He’d only done what anyone else would have in his situation. Staring death in the face, and being given both a reprieve from said death, along with everything he could have hoped for on a silver platter. Anyone else would have said yes.

He rubbed his hands, trying to clear his mind. The channel remained dead. Ten more minutes. If the console didn’t light up within that timeframe, his ‘drug dealer’ would arrive and Hexis was free to leave, to report back again in a week.

Anyone else would have said yes. Everyone on the warlock council would have. They might call him a coward, but he knew deep down that all of them would have picked the same option he had. As would every warlock within the tower, every merchant in the cities, every rational undersider he knew.

Five minutes in the gloom. The channel still didn’t light up with actual activity. Only remaining passive.

No one rational would choose to protect complete strangers at the cost of their own life. That was something only Deathless could do, and they could do it only because their life was infinite.

Machines knew of the forbidden fractals, and actively hunted for them. Hiding within one would not have saved Hexis. There had been no choice, and Hexis refused to feel any kind of guilt for working with the enemy.

The real world was filled with hard decisions. However he felt about his new apprentice and the surface people, they would soon all be dead. Either from the Feather hunting them down, or old age. Death was inevitable.

“Hexis.” The channel crackled. “Report.”

To’Avalis observed the connection, verifying it wasn’t tapped into by any other source. The surface clan had proven to be rather well organized, however they were still human in the end. A small signal repeater planted near the very base of the colony, especially one on the other side of a sealed pathway, wouldn’t have any chance of being found.

He could have done more. Attempted a far closer connection, directly within the clan’s local systems, which would let him speak to his mole in the leisure of his own office, at any time. The only true fear was To’Wrathh. She had access to the same set of cybersecurity suites he had, and so could easily notice overt intrusion. A light touch was needed. Just enough to cover a small track, and nothing more.

“There has been some interesting development.” The warlock said across the line. “The boy, my apprentice, is now actively hunting down one of your rogue feathers. The male.”

That was… unexpected. A schism between the two? Unlikely, the human Tenisent was a far superior specialist in combat. If there were an actual division in allegiance, one side would quickly be brought down, and Hexis’s report would be about the death of his apprentice rather than an active campaign.

Human families have been known to turn on one another, specifically those of the Winterscar line from his research. Yet, there was nothing within the character profile he had available that showed any hint the current generation of Winterscars to have unresolvable differences.

Combat between Keith and Tenisent must have a different source and objective. He needed to know more. “Elaborate." To’Avalis asked.

All Hexis had been told was to watch for the movements of the Winterscars and the two Feathers that slipped the noose. Then, alert him as to when they would leave the clan along with directions and information along with a simple tracking device. As soon as he did so, his part was over.

A rather reasonable request all put together. The Feather could have demanded that he follow behind, or find a way to inject himself into the group. Instead, the bare minimum was required. It lowered the chance of difficulty exponentially.

“A few of the clan's knights have been publicly challenged to defeat Nistene on his supposed request for practice.” Hexis said. “I wouldn’t consider it ‘hunting’, rather surprise honor duels in an unconstricted method? Yes, that seems more accurate. However, I haven’t heard of any fights between any other knights other than my own apprentice.”

“What is their objective with this exercise?” Perhaps the humans were testing their limits against a Feather. However, they have had To'Wrathh among their count for far longer, such wargames could have been done before.

If it wasn’t training for the humans, it may be training for the Feathers instead. Tenisent was new to his stolen body. Further practice would benefit him.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Hexis said. To’Avalis could detect an overt lie in this. An oddity coming from the Warlock, as he hadn’t been given any reason to lie.

If he ignored the slight, it would lead Hexis to believe he could omit or deflect information. Useful for handling an enemy. However Hexis was under his payroll. And the warlock already knew Feathers could detect lies.

“I warned you prior that Feathers could detect lies.” To’Avalis answered back, deciding to nip this in the bud. That warlock had been sent into the den of two high profile Feathers, To’Avalis wasn’t going to waste his resources by malequipping assets. “Did you believe I would be excluded from this?”

The line went quiet for a moment. “No. I do have ideas, however, I did not believe them to be… credible.”

That was correct, algorithms showed clean truth in this. The Warlock was simply trying to avoid prattling on and trying his patience. Other Feathers, this would have been a legitimate fear. To’Avalis had little care for impatience. Success was all that mattered, the time taken was irrelevant.

“Explain regardless. You are an information source. Unneeded information is expected and accounted for.”

Hexis remained quiet, contemplating how to answer. “Perhaps this is a personal affair between the boy and your stolen Feather? And he’s recently come to ask me for help in combat, so it is clearly important to him that he win. From the context clues, I believe that there is a schism between the two.”

A personal vendetta perhaps. Or a prior score to settle. Or training for Tenisent’s full control of the stolen Feather.

Why were they fighting? And why only each other? Sheer training would benefit from diverse enemies. To'Wrathh and the rest of the surface knights should have been included in for maximum exposure. Why only Keith and Tenisent?

“What are the results of these duels?” To’Avalis asked.

“As far as I’ve heard, Nistene has never lost a match yet. Hence why the boy has come asking for help. He wants every edge he can get.”

With Tenisent winning the duels, nothing seemed to change in the grand scheme. The clan is still destined to migrate downwards. Reusing To’Aacar’s old supply line and increasing the number of armors to a high degree meant the raiders were now effectively feeding the clan all the armors they could need. The raider assault would wither away before it could begin in full at this rate, however that was beyond the scope of the project. They were simply an obsolete part.

Social pressure would build up with each armor obtained by the humans. The clan would be forced to migrate down, or break apart into subfactions if it was fed enough. And with the clan, his targets would be flushed out of their sanctuary on the surface. All he had to do was wait and continue feeding the humans more armor.

Certainly a dangerous collective to allow free roam underground, given those clan knights moved far faster and with more discipline than most human factions. However, To’Avalis did not care. Grand strategy would be for Mother to deal with, and likely another set of Feathers sent to quell the humans down if they grew too dangerous. If a group of humans could grow powerful enough to overthrow machine rule with only faster armors, the balance of the world would have already long ago shifted.

What interested To'Avalis was the Winterscars and To'Wrathh.

Character profiles pointed to the markedly high possibility that his targets would choose to leave the clan behind, in an attempt to draw his attention and army away from the more innocent civilians of the clan. Perfectly acceptable, what happened to the clan was irrelevant to his goals.

“I do need to know,” Hexis said, interrupting To’Avalis’s thoughts. “Should I assist the boy in defeating the Feather? I sent him away today to think through on a few possible trails, I have yet to fully commit to assisting his combat ability.”

There was a nervous tilt to the voice. The warlock was likely worried about crossing To’Avalis. Acceptable.

There was only one real answer to that.

“Maintain cover.” To’Avalis answered back. “Assist the human in defeating the stolen Feather. Record everything.”

Regardless if it is for personal reasons, Keith was fighting a Feather again. And evidently learning how to defeat one.

The better choice for To’Avalis was to not be caught by surprise rather than attempt to sabotage the effort. If Keith did discover a method, he needed to know exactly how it would be done. That information would be more valuable in securing a counter-method rather than gambling on preventing events entirely.

And Hexis would be the direct link he needed to gaining that information.