Waterstrider

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

Of all the forces that had been sent into battle in the eighth district, few had escaped intact. Some had made it away with wounds, others had been arrested by security, but most were dead, killed in either the conflict itself or by the collapsed floor.

Kalthen himself had just emerged from the hospital, his wounds having been slowly mended by the medical machines over the past few days.

He had spent most of the recuperation time stewing in his own failure. It had been the first time he had led a squad into battle, and this was the outcome. When he was an enforcer pilot, his failures only came back to hurt himself, and at worst he would be reprimanded by his uncle.

He had led five of his subordinates to their deaths- every single person under his command. And for what? They hadn’t even run into their target. They had died because Kalthen had been foolish enough to trick their captors.

He was still thinking back on better choices he could have made as he finally made his way out the hospital’s doors. The bright domelight splashed across the district, glinting on the charms that littered the windows and entryways of every shop and establishment. He tried to immerse himself into the sights and sounds of his hometown, but his mood was so dark that he found it difficult.

He continued passing through, mind weary and his head down, only to be stopped by a man on his shoulder. Kalthen whirled, instinctively raising his fists, ready to throw a punch. He paused as he found himself looking down at the face of Triezal.

Kalthen raised an eyebrow in surprise as he looked at the man. Triezal had somehow found another jacket that looked just like the one that had been ruined in the collapse, but for the first time in a while Kalthen could see his eyes uncovered by a blindfold. Was he trying to be unobtrusive because they were in a public space? If so, his colorful hair and jacket already did enough to make him stand out.

Not too long ago, Kalthen had hated the other man. He had been jealous of Triezal's success, and had wished that he was the one the Leader had his eye on. That had started to change somewhat over the week in which they had worked closely together, and given what had happened, Kalthen couldn’t find it in himself to hate the man.

He even felt that he owed Triezal for saving his life. While it was true that Triezal had effectively abandoned them right before arrival, that had allowed him to actually find and confront the Riverfiend, unlike Kalthen himself. It was also in all likelihood the only reason Triezal had survived. If he had stayed with them he would have died in the collapse and Kalthen would have been trapped under the rubble for many hours to perhaps days before the government finally bothered to check for survivors.

“Didn’t they let you out yesterday?”he asked, looking over at the other man. This hospital was over a half hour’s walk away from the headquarters of the heirs, which was why Kalthen had chosen it. He had wanted a distance between himself and the organization until he healed and was ready to confront the consequences of his own failure.

Triezal shrugged, a smile on his face as he responded to the question.

“I just figured I’d stop by, catch you up to speed. I got the impression you’d be wallowing in self pity all day unless someone interrupted you.”

Kalthen didn’t bother to dispute the assertion. He sighed as the two began to walk in step while they talked.

“Fine, then. What all happened while we were in recovery?”

“The Leader’s very upset, for one. He’s not happy with us or anyone at the moment.”

“Not much of a surprise.”

“Not at all,” agreed Triezal. “It’s very unpleasant over there, so I snuck out under the excuse that I was going to try and hunt the Riverfiend down again.”

Kalthen raised an eyebrow.

“He still has us on that? I was expecting to be punished for failure.”

Triezal met his gaze.

“He has everyone on it now, Kalthen. He’s becoming even more desperate. He didn’t say when the courier was expected to arrive, but from how he’s acting I think it might be expected any day now, or even overdue. He’s starting to give up on image altogether.”

“Are you serious?”

A shiver crept its way in Kalthen’s spine. He had already talked to the captain of a merchant ship that would be heading out to Refugee Planet 14, the world his people had taken to calling Janen. If he lost his place on Tseludia he could go there and find himself a new life on the fledgling frontier world. For a moment he considered inviting Triezal to come with him.

Triezal’s face was grim as he responded.

“I am. It’s bad, little brother. I’m starting to become concerned with the future of this organization. It depends on who was sent as the courier, but there are some possible candidates who… might choose to ‘reorganize’ your group if they find out that you lost it.”

It did not skip Kalthen’s attention that Triezal had separated himself from Kalthen and the Heirs, though it made sense. While Triezal worked as part of the organization now, in reality he was associated more closely with the courier than with them. A true member, a Magister of the Epon, rather than a mere pawn.

“This… ‘reorganization,’ what would that entail, exactly?” he asked, almost scared to find out the answer.

Triezal suddenly stopped walking, and a beat later Kalthen paused as well, looking over to see a serious expression on Triezal’s face.

“That depends on who specifically the courier is. But at minimum they would likely change the leadership, which means your family would be tossed out. At worst…”

Triezal met Kalthen's eyes, and began speaking more quietly, looking around to see if anyone was close enough to listen.

“Listen, Kalthen, some of the higher ranking Magisters have… been living for quite a long time. They tend to be…” He paused as if trying to think of a particular word. “...old fashioned, if you catch my drift.”

“By old fashioned, do you mean-”

“Like the city of Opportunity, yes.”

Opportunity had been a powerful city on Celah, run by an ancient order called the Canton of Requisition. It had been a powerful trading city, and the technological capital of the world for a time. It was said that the government had been harsh to the people in the final days of the city, quelling unrest with excessive force. It was an incredibly important event in Celan culture even now, over a century afterwards.

One thing the event was known for was the practice of scapegoating. The Canton had pushed group failures onto a single person and had them punished with imprisonment or death as a result. When the rebels had taken over, they found that several important figures had managed to escape. To salvage their pride and reputation, they vilified those they had captured even further, putting the weight of the flawed government onto them. All had been slain, fallen in the brutality of that era.

While this was not public knowledge, due to his family connections Kalthen knew that members of the Canton who had escaped the fall later became some of the founding members of a later group known as Epon.

“So, my mother and uncle?” he asked.

Triezal sighed despondently.

“Keep in mind this is just a possibility, a worst case scenario. The courier might just force the current Leader to step down. Still, in the worst case, you yourself might even be dragged into it as the scion of a very powerful family.”

Kalthen nodded, having expected this. He considered whether or not he should invite his mother and uncle to leave as well, but immediately discarded it. Both would refuse him immediately. The Heirs were more important to his uncle than life, and his mother would never be willing to leave her web of contacts in Tseludia. He knew she reveled in the power it brought her.

He began walking again, and Triezal jogged to catch up to his longer strides. Kalthen walked to a street stall, quickly purchasing a light meal from the Korlove proprietor. Jobu needed to eat a lot to remain healthy with a frame as naturally bulky as theirs, and Kalthen had always practiced settling his stomach before settling his mind, just as his uncle had taught him as a child.

“That’s fine. My life was already ruined if we didn’t find it anyway. I didn’t need any more motivation anyway.” He met Triezal eyes, wearied. “What’s the situation with our personal force? Are we getting new resources, or is it just us?”

Triezal averted his gaze slightly, which Kalthen did not feel boded well.

“The Leader… reassigned our roles in the matter. A different force was assigned to search each district in fine detail, making damn sure we find him. I was placed in charge of the overall effort, while you… were assigned to the fifth district group.”

Kalthen scowled.

“Wasn’t the fifth district one of the first places we combed through? There’s no way my squad will find him there.”

Had the Leader purposefully assigned him one of the least likely districts on purpose? The fifth district was firmly inside their control, how would a martial artist have even managed to hide there for so long if that’s where he was hiding?

“I think you’re misunderstanding something, Kalthen. You weren’t assigned a squad, you were assigned to a squad. I’m sorry, I tried to speak up in your favor.”

Kalthen suddenly stopped, forcing Triezal to back up this time. His face was covered in shock. He understood why, because the Leader saw it as him losing an enforcer and then a squad, with no results either time. Still, to be demoted in such a way really stung. He would likely need a great deal of merit to salvage his career, even with his uncle’s assistance.

The courier would likely arrive long before his ship was scheduled to leave, too, so he couldn’t just wait it out and flee, he needed to find the item.

Kalthen swore up and down, kicking hard at the railing on the side of the street to odd looks from passerby. His life had been in a downward spiral. How could all of this have happened in just a little over a week?

“Alright, fine. Fine! This is fine.” He turned to look at Triezal. “I’m going to stop by a bar. I really need a drink right now.”

The Merris nodded as if unsurprised.

“I’ll join you.”

Epon: [A powerful and secretive organization whose roots spread out all across Celan inhabited space. Its direct origin was a few years after the fall of Opportunity, but it inherited a full copy of all of the Canton's research rather than a fragmented copy like most other organizations did in the aftermath. By continuing practice of intensive research, lobbying, and networking, the Epon have become one of the most powerful groups in all of Celan society, and were the true inventors of the slice drive technology that allowed the Celan people to escape the Incursion and enter Tellesian space. Even still, few Celans even know of the group's existence, something that Epon finds it more convenient to maintain. Epon has the foremost understanding of flickering miasma in all of known space, a matter which some groups find to be suspicious. Rumors among certain circles have it that some of Celah's ancient Shades might number among the organization's ranks even today.]