Last Command of the Witheld Arc 1: Rebirth

Xander Vasilias, ☆☆Graviton Knight, Stone Lvl 14

Aragon, Capital of the Province of Aragonia

Xander Vasilias tore down the street on his “Steed”, a massive, custom motorcycle that he had named Auggie after August Vasilias, one of the great names of House Vasilias and one of his favorite historical. The spirit he’d bound into it with his Class power, Summon Steed, fit his aggressive style, though it was a bit much for riding around in the city. Still, he liked the stares he got from the common people in their mundane conveyances. It always paid to make an entrance.

The motorcycle was all matte black adamantium, layered so thickly with weight-reducing enchantments to cut back on the incredible mass of adamantium that he always thought it might fly away if he opened the throttle. Xander revved the engine and Auggie roared as Xander popped a wheelie with ethereal flames erupting from the exhaust going at what his mother would call “reckless” speed. The traffic on the road moved out of his way, lest they get run over by his monstrous bike.

Everywhere he looked in the city, people were out celebrating. Multicolored explosions were happening in the city. Business had essentially stopped for what looked to be gearing up to be a party that would likely last for days if not longer. It wasn’t every day that a Minor House of the Eternal Empire ascended to Great House status and the common people were celebrating.

Let them celebrate, Xander thought, feeling a little like celebrating himself, even though he knew just how precarious their ascension truly was. Every minute those Scions remain unfound, I expect to see a new System message telling us that we have lost our status again.

He made his way through the city, his motorcycle for once not the loudest thing on the streets. Zahara’s club, her darling and home away from home, was the Dreamserpent Club at the base of Tenebrae Spire. Normally it would be empty at this time of day, but he could see a line down the sidewalk even now. Xander’s bike roared one last time as he pulled onto the sidewalk, startling the crowd who had to jump out of his way to avoid being crushed. It looked like it might turn ugly until someone recognized him and then they seemed to forget about the whole incident in their rush to meet him and get a picture with him.

After signing a few autographs, posing for some hastily-produced memplates, and shaking more hands than he had in weeks, Xander begged off from the crowd and escaped into the club. He didn’t worry about leaving Auggie out there with the crowd. Even if Auggie wasn’t his summoned Steed, today no one would have stolen it. Still, he didn’t want to block the entrance to the club and the draakan bouncer working the entrance, a tall, muscular, red-scaled bruiser Xander knew as Kilmar, was beginning to look positively apoplectic. He dismissed the motorcycle, watching the dismissal effect carefully—as well as the crowd’s reaction, of course.

There was an audible gasp and round of applause and he smiled. The enchantments he’d overlaid had worked! Instead of simply popping out of existence, Auggie exploded into a black mist that coalesced into a tiny point that then disappeared. Very dramatic, and very satisfying. The people out there would be talking about it for days.

Much more satisfying, Xander thought. No one would respect a Reborn whose Steed simply deletes itself from existence.

As had been drilled into him since he could speak, to an Imperial Reborn—a member of House Vasilias, no less—image was the first line of defense in every Reborn’s arsenal. Cultivate a captivating image and a recognizable enough brand and your enemies do your work for you. They’ll invent powers and abilities that don’t exist just to satisfy what they perceive.

The pulsating beat of the music momentarily faded into a suspenseful lull, and the club's vibrant lights dimmed, only to refocus as brilliant, roving spotlights converged on the grand entrance. The crowd's chatter turned to excited murmurs, anticipation hanging palpably in the air.

Then, Zahara's voice, smooth and electrifying, cut through the suspense, amplified to resonate throughout every corner of the club:

"Ladies, gentlemen, Reborn and common, esteemed guests of the Dreamserpent! The moment we'd all been eagerly awaiting had finally arrived. Tonight, we aren’t just any nightclub in the heart of Aragon; tonight, we are the epicenter of the extraordinary, the home of the sensational. For tonight, we have the privilege, the absolute honor, of welcoming a legend in our midst.

“He’s a lord whose House’s recent triumphs and spectacular rise have captivated the world, setting hearts ablaze and minds racing. A true force of nature, whose presence tonight turns an ordinary evening into an event of unprecedented excitement and allure.”

Xander exhibited superhuman control by not rolling his eyes. The crowd was eating Zahara’s announcement up.

“Please, turn your attention to the entrance and prepare your cheers,” Zahara said, voice rising in a crescendo, “for the incomparable, the magnificent, Lord Xander Vasilias of the Great House of Vasilias has just graced us with his presence!"

As the spotlights locked onto Xander, who was making his way through the crowd which parted like the sea, the club erupted into enthusiastic applause, whistles, and cheers, the air electric with the energy of the crowd. The spotlights finally refocused on the band—a local arcane trance group called Pixee Smash—who started their set back up as the party resumed in full swing. He got to the bar and nodded at Emet, the hissk bartender who was working the bar today.

Emet came right over, filling a glass with Xander’s favorite cocktail—a drink that incorporated five different kinds of spirits and turned an acidic yellow-green in the tall glass it was served in called Basilisk Venom—without asking. “By the scales of the Great Serpent,” Emet exclaimed, setting the drink down in front of Xander, “but it’s an honor to serve! I can’t believe a Scion of a Great House is here!”

Xander did roll his eyes this time. Emet wasn’t so starstruck when Jade-rank Reborn visited, but here he was fawning over him. “Come on, Emet, it’s just me,” Xander said, taking the drink. “I’ve been coming here forever! Don’t start treating me like a High Lord now, I don’t think I could stand it.”

“As you say, my Lord,” Emet replied, his golden yellow eyes still wide with near-worship. “What’s it like? To be a part of a Great House? Is it just like it looks in the vids?”

“Frankly it’s a bore,” Xander said, feeling a twist of distaste at Emet’s fawning. He’d never thought he’d see the normally irreverent hissk act like this. “Where is Zahara? The Imperial Suite?” He took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips. Emet was turning out to be a lost cause, which was a damn shame because he could mix a good Basilisk Venom.

Emet chuckled at Xander’s impatient response. He nodded. “Yes, Lord Vasilias, she’s in the Imperial Suite just as you thought.”

Xander nodded and left, drink in hand. He had to navigate across the dance floor and up the winding staircase to the top floor. The club was mostly dark, with ever-shifting multicolored tensa lights in strips on just about every surface providing a soft illumination that nonetheless left things mostly in shadow. He marveled at the amount of people crammed into the club at this early in the day. Now that the spotlights were no longer trained on him, he had regained some anonymity in the crowds.

No one jostled him, of course. Xander’s subtle employment of his anima in the Lord’s configuration ensured that no one got too close. He strode through the crowd and upstairs, quickly making his way to the Imperial Suite. This was in the VIP section of the club where only those with high enough status or good enough connections were allowed to mingle. It was much less crowded up here, though there were a lot of people even so.

The Imperial Suite was a large glass-enclosed room with luxurious long, low couches, a huge aquarium with sinuous sea snakes and enormous tropical fish swimming in languid circles set into the floor, and a full bar at the other end. The glass could be tinted or blurred to provide privacy, but right now Zahara had the Imperial Suite completely transparent and lit up so that the folks on the dance floor could see exactly who had been invited up there.

Zahara was involved in a lively conversation with a trio of attractive young men that Xander recognized as belonging to the vassal houses of House Vasilias. They’d suddenly had their status in the world move up as well. To be a vassal to a Great House was an enormous step up from being a vassal to even a very powerful Minor House. Xander couldn’t remember their names though, and he didn’t really care by now. He’d been thoroughly irritated by the theatrical welcome and Zahara wasn’t making this any easier by having half the nobility in Aragon here.

Xander couldn’t stay angry at her though, even when he was being deliberately provoked. The woman had a superhuman charm that had nearly nothing to do with her tall, toned physique, or her strange pale skin set off so artfully by her fiery red hair. She oozed confidence and moved through the world with a kind of relaxed air of indolence that hid a sharp and calculating mind. Her looks had captured Xander’s attention while it was Zahara’s mind that captivated his heart.

Xander’s eyes were entirely on Zahara as he entered the Imperial Suite. The bouncer at the door simply held the door open as Xander approached and he meandered his way through the room towards Zahara. If Zahara was going to play games, then Xander could play just as well. Besides, his drink was empty. He headed over to the bar, deliberately taking a long walk around where Zahara was lounging, making sure he caught the woman’s eye as he did.

Another impeccably mixed Basilisk Venom was placed on the bar as soon as he got there and Xander thanked the bartender briefly before turning around and looking out at the milling group of high-status nobles, vid-stars, influential sons and daughters of tycoons of industry, and a few high-ranking Reborn. Xander saw that Fferiss, the Arbormaster of the Imperial Forest was there—he was Sapphire rank and likely the most powerful Reborn that had set foot in the club in decades—in deep conversation with Martine Despilier, the famous vidstar. He wondered what they could have to talk about.

Before he could take another sip, he felt Zahara’s arm snake around his waist and he smiled as she pulled him into a kiss. She was wearing a metallic gold moonspider silk dress with black accents that clung to her curves. It had less of a neckline and more of a torso line. She kissed him very thoroughly and to raucous applause. When she pulled back from the kiss, her magenta eyes sparkled with happiness that dimmed somewhat when she read something in his expression that troubled her.

She hid it well, but Xander knew Zahara as he knew himself. She’d understood that he was trepidatious, even if she couldn’t understand why. “Why hello, my Lord Vasilias,” she said mockingly, “what brings you to my humble establishment? Are you here for a birthday? A wedding? Some other kind of…celebration?” She smiled, biting her bottom lip lightly.

Xander gulped, very aware of Zahara’s precariously fitted dress. “A…celebration?” He asked dumbly.

She smiled and chuckled throatily. “Ah you young High Lords, always finding the least suggestion to throw lavish parties. Should this be a formal occasion or one that is more…casual?” She caressed his cheek with one hand and then tapped his lip playfully.

Xander took her hand gently and kissed her fingertips before he said, “Zahara, my love, thank you for the warm welcome.” He kissed her lips again before he said, “You know how much I love the attention.”

One elegant eyebrow arched, “Is that a note of disapproval I sense in your voice, O Prince? Is this humble establishment now too debased for your delicate sensibilities? Am I dressed…inappropriately?” One finger trailed down her chest and Xander’s eyes followed. Zahara giggled, “Oh I do love seeing you blush, Xander!”

Xander coughed to cover his embarrassment and looked around at the crowd. Everyone was discreetly involved in their discussions, no one was looking at them, but Xander caught a few surreptitiously-pointed Systablos pointed in their direction. Within the hour, Xander knew that little display would be all over the System’s social feeds. The algorithms loved vids of nobility doing salacious things—like having lives outside of the Imperial Court—with vids of nobles from Great Houses being the most popular.

He leaned in, speaking low into Zahara’s ear so that the chances he could be overheard were minimized, “Can we go to your office? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Zahara frowned slightly, but the expression disappeared so quickly that Xander almost thought he’d imagined it. She nodded shortly, her flirtatious and playful demeanor all business now. “Of course, Xander. There are important people here that I can’t just leave, though, you understand. Go on up and I’ll be there in a minute or two.”

Xander nodded, reaching out and squeezing Zahara’s hand lightly. She squeezed back with a quick smile before she turned back to her guests and started circulating, speaking to each person in low tones. Xander made his way out of the Imperial Suite, managing to avoid any of the famous people, hangers-on, or other VIPs as he went. Wielding his anima in the Lord’s configuration again, he cut through the crowds to an unobtrusive door near the back of the club. The music from Pixee Smash was going at a feverish pace and the entire balcony shook with the dancers’ steps.

There were another two bouncers in front of the out-of-the-way door, though they were obviously of much higher quality than the ones at the club’s entrance. Xander knew they were both Stone rank Reborn (an unheard-of waste of resources for guarding a nightclub owner, according to popular reckoning anyway) but Zahara had important connections and was a minor power in the city as an information broker.

Of course, Zahara could hardly be a more politically sensitive person here in Aragonia. She was a Bardoul, after all; they were supposed to be blood enemies. Her defection had been the scandal of the century when it had happened a decade ago, now her Bardoul family ties only came up when someone was trying to dig up a scandal. That was one thing Xander was truly eager to avoid.

Zehara’s office was more like a bedroom than an office. There was a desk with chairs arranged in front of and behind it, but the rest of the room was decorated like a bedroom. All low lights and expensive art hanging from the walls. There was an enormous bed with a dozen pillows and the softest crimson and cream moonsilk sheets Xander had ever felt. He went past the desk and sat on the edge of the bed, taking his jacket off as he sat and laying it on the bed next to him.

Just as he was kicking off his shoes, he got a System notification that made him stop what he was doing.

Encrypted Message

From: Rikael Vasilias

Priority: Low

Subject: Rose Palace new wing wallpaper

Accept?

Yes / No

Xander frowned. Encrypted Messages could only be sent within city limits and cost the world. The System was the most secure method to send messages, so long as you could fit within the narrow parameters that an encrypted message from the System required. This particular priority with this particular message subject was a coded message on its own. It meant, Urgent message, open immediately. He accepted it and the message opened so that only he could see it.

Encrypted Message

System logs show one is in local province. Prepare your team for immediate departure for sector 38. Report in one week or once subject has been located.

Xander felt himself straighten. Now this was news. He felt the etherheart in his chest surge with excitement. His mother had found one of the Scions and her research had revealed that at least one of them was in the province of Aragonia. She wanted him to leave with his team immediately. That meant this discussion would need to be much quicker—and much more clothed—than he had intended. Zahara would be nearly as disappointed as he was. He wondered again just how he was going to tell her.