Waterstrider

Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS

As always, the office of the Heirs of Ottrien’s Vice-Leader felt more like a broom closet than a dignified location. Usually when Deuvar met with others, he did so in meeting rooms so as to better uphold his image. It was Triezal’s unique position within the organization that caused him to meet personally with the man in this place.

It was almost a disappointment, but somehow the large man managed to be imposing and dignified no matter where he was.

After hearing Deuvar’s request, Triezal frowned, unsure about this matter.

“You want me to run the forward base?” he asked.

“If not you, it’ll be Akekha,” said Deuvar.

“What, she actually wants the job?”

“She personally requested the position. It seems she thinks she can get herself promoted again if she has success there.”

Triezal snorted.

“I wish her luck with that. But if she wants the position so badly, why do you want me to take it? Otan has yet to fully calm down.”

“Now that the government has intervened, the situation in Otan will not shift again in the short term. The Seiyal are now our major concern.”

“I understand that, but I’m not sure a doomed position is the best use of my capabilities,” said Triezal.

The older man gave him a stern look.

“Though it may be doomed, as you say, the forward base will be the main focus of the Hadal Clan for so long as it exists. It represents a great morale boost for our soldiers, and a huge slap in the clan’s face. We need it to last for as long as possible. You know information the other squad leaders do not, and can understand our real priorities.”

He wasn’t wrong. Deuvar was an intelligent man, and Triezal had no intention of disputing such questions of resource distribution. Moreover, Triezal simply agreed with his position. The forward base was of great value, and it was worthy of having such focus dedicated to it. Triezal also thought that he could easily do a better job than Akekha could.

However, there was one small issue. No matter how he looked at it, being stationed in the forward base seemed like nothing but a suicide mission. The Hadal Clan would be putting all of their efforts into destroying it, and it was very likely to be encircled. If the barrier collapsed, they would cover the escape routes.

So it wasn’t that he didn’t understand where Deuvar was coming from, but simply that Triezal did not wish to die. Everything he had done to get to this point was a result of blindly grabbing for a lifeline, an extension to the time he had remaining.

“I’ll agree, but only if you satisfy some conditions,” said Triezal.

Deuvar raised an eyebrow. He was usually the one who performed negotiations for the organization, and Triezal knew that he was good at his job. Still, Triezal was unwilling to risk his life like this without gains, and his unique role gave him certain privileges that others lacked.

“I’m willing to hear you out.”

“For one, I’ll need at least four enforcers, and a supply of tactical nuclear armament.”

Deuvar considered it for a moment, and then nodded.

“That’s no small number, but it can be arranged.”

“Finally, I want to be able to use one item from the reserve.”

This request led to a much longer pause.

“...I wasn’t aware you knew about the reserve,” he said.

Triezal simply smiled wordlessly. Deuvar sighed.

“Fine. But if it gets damaged, you’ll need to pay for it. And if the Staiven find out… that’ll be your problem. I will not protect you.”

Triezal smiled.

“I can accept those conditions.”

“Good. I’ll need you to-”

A glyph slate buzzed on Deuvar’s desk, interrupting his sentence, and the two of them both glanced at it. Deuvar sighed.

“I’ll need to take this. It will be short.”

Triezal nodded, continuing to stand and watch as a holographic figure appeared above the slate’s surface. He knew that if Deuvar had wished him to leave the room, he would have been more clear about it. As the image resolved, Triezal recognized it, but found himself surprised by the figure’s identity. It was a Seiyal, and one of the most notable figures within Canvas Town’s underworld.

“Greetings, Vice-Leader Deuvar,” said Lao Feng, bowing.

Deuvar smiled.

“You’ve immersed yourself within their customs for quite a long time, haven’t you, Laott?”

The ganglord chuckled.

“Twenty years is quite a while, indeed. But you’ve sent me something interesting this time, haven’t you?”

Deuvar frowned, not sure what the other man was talking about, until the hologram shifted, revealing another man standing next to Lao Feng. He was a very athletic looking Seiyal with the physique of a runner. His dark skin contrasted with the gold of his irises and his long blond hair. The crimson robes he wore gave him a very striking appearance that made him immediately recognizable.

Deuvar paused for a moment in surprise, but only skipped a beat before recovering and greeting the man.

“We meet again, Sect Leader Yu.”

“Vice Leader Deuvar,” nodded the martial artist. “I would never have guessed that your organization had such influence in Canvas Town.”

Deuvar smiled.

“My style is one of intensive preparation.”

“I can see that. I’m curious about why I was informed about this. I would have thought you would keep it secret from everyone outside your organization.”

“That was a miscalculation on my part,” admitted Deuvar. “You’re far bolder than I anticipated, Mister Yu. We expected you to pick easier targets.”

“I would have died long ago if I were a timid man.”

“I suppose that’s true, given what we know of your background. But I have to ask, Laott, why did you tell him?”

Laott chuckled.

“He was insistent on us killing one another. I figured that it was better to risk my cover than to pay the cost of either my death or that of a useful… ally.”

Deuvar frowned. He had been aware that the Redwater Sect’s leader was the sort to enjoy combat, but this seemed a step too far. Perhaps the information Astna had brought that the Riverfiend’s madness was cured was less than completely accurate. Or, perhaps it was simply a product of the life he had lived. Deuvar felt little need to over-analyze the psychology of a primitive, savage race.

“So what now?” asked the Riverfiend. “I assume you wish for me to keep this a secret?”

Deuvar nodded.

“We can pay you for the favor, of course.”

“I actually do have something I would like to request,” the Seiyal replied, something hidden in his smile. “I’m training up a group of flickering practitioners, but we’re lacking proper techniques.”

Deuvar relaxed, hearing his request. This was something trivial to him. The Epon had given them a large number of effective flickering techniques for martial artists when they had delivered Laott and the rest to Tseludia.

“That can be arranged. Laott, see it done.”

The ganglord nodded respectfully.

“Of course, Vice-Leader.”

The Riverfien glanced at Laott again, and then back to Deuvar.

“If that’s all, I’m afraid I have some other gangs to visit before the night is up.”

Deuvar stopped him for leaving the call.

“Before you go, I have a matter to inform you of. About the squad you sent into Little Celah earlier today…” Deuvar smiled as the Riverfiend’s expression betrayed a hint of surprise. “I’ll return them to you largely unharmed out of consideration for our close relationship.”

After the moment passed, the sect leader’s face remained impassive.

“I’m not sure what you are referring to, Vice-Leader Deuvar. What reason would I have to send a force into your territory?”

Deuvar smiled, knowing that in this, he had the initiative. As the old adage went, the best approach combined softness and hardness.

“I suppose that’s a good question, Sect Leader Yu. Let’s simply call them a group of martial artists that we found skulking around. I’m simply informing you that they’ll be returned to their own district safe and sound.”

“...I’ll accept your grace on behalf of their families,” said the Riverfiend, his teeth clearly gritted beneath his smile.

“Yes, I trust this matter will help to maintain our good relationship,” smiled Deuvar. Sometimes, congeniality was a better weapon than a firm stance, he thought.

The call soon closed, and Deuvar returned his attention to Triezal, who still stood on the other side of the desk.

“Be careful at the forward base,” he said. “It’s difficult to guess who you will be facing off against, but they will not be simple.”

The younger man nodded.

“Lao Feng, was he from…”

Deuvar nodded in confirmation.

“I suspect you would know more about that matter than I would,” he said.

Triezal pursed his lips.

“I see. I’ll head to the forward base.”

He quickly turned and walked out. Deuvar watched the young man’s back as he left, and rubbed his temples. He felt the signs of an oncoming migraine.

Martial Techniques and Technological Development: [Historically, the Seiyal saw martial arts as a discipline wholly divorced from science and technology, a type of magic granted by the divinity of the goddess Ceirra. However, after joining the galactic society, they were confronted with alien technology that utilized miasma, and it became clear that the principles of martial arts were not as unique as they seemed. Martial arts techniques and the abilities of miasma are one, and races such as the Staiven have been able to develop certain technologies by studying the capabilities of Seiyal martial artists. It is said that the Celans have taken the opposite approach: reverse engineering their own understanding of flickering miasma’s principles in order to create martial techniques, so as to better understand the mechanics as a whole.]