Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

From the exterior, the Leader’s house didn’t appear too unusual as far as opulent townhomes went. It was the sort of place one might expect the manager of a successful theater company to own, not the Leader of a powerful underworld organization. Still, he found it difficult to reel in his nerves.

Thinking about the Leader reminded him of his demotion, which made his mind picture the faces of his former squad in a rictus of agony. Such dark thoughts only intensified his anxiety.

Perhaps this time, the Leader would not have the mercy to spare his life.

The hatch opened before the group’s approach, before Deuvar could even tap the pad at its center. It slid away to reveal a brightly lit hallway filled with plants, sculptures, and paintings, looking almost like a ruin from a past civilization as they were depicted on television.

Kalthen had never been to the Leader’s house before, but it was as it had been described to him: almost more like a greenhouse than a home designed for Celan habitation.

Astna and the Leader were already sitting down when Triezal, Kalthen, and Deuvar arrived in the dining room, where they had been told to meet. As far as Kalthen was aware, the three core members of the organization had not been in the same room like this in over half a decade.

The Leader’s dining room was more open than the hallway, providing them with enough space to sit comfortably around it without their chairs bumping into a flower pot or a statue. He and Astna silently examined him and Triezal as they sat down on the other side of the table.

Kalthen noted that his uncle sat down next to the Leader as well, resulting in the three top brass of the organization facing down himself and his friend. That was to be expected. They were after all, the ones who had disobeyed the Leader and murdered an important representative of their parent organization.

Kalthen had met the Leader before, when he was younger, as his mother had brought him with her to all sorts of meetings and events, hoping to help him gain experience. It had been over a decade since then, as the Leader had gone into relative seclusion in his old age, only meeting with a few important officers of the Heirs and delegating most of his work to Deuvar.

It struck Kalthen now just how old the Korlove man was. Wisps of white hair hung over the gray of his body and mouthparts, and his movements were slightly jerky, quite unlike the natural dexterity and smoothness of motion that Korlove were known for.

The Leader stared them down for a solid few moments, his harsh gaze emanating a pressure that made him feel uncomfortable. Kalthen glanced at his mother, but looked away as he saw the impassive expression on her face. It was as if she did not care whatsoever about the outcome of this meeting. His heart stung, and he returned to watching the Leader.

Finally the leader spoke, his raspy voice grinding away at the edges of Kalthen’s composure. Still, he held onto it. His mother had raised him better than to be intimidated like this, not when he truly did believe he had made the right decision for everyone present.

“Explain,” he said.

The words hung in the air, and Kalthen glanced over at Triezal, waiting for his friend to respond. He knew that the Leader did not care about his own response, no matter his familial connections or part in the assassination.

Triezal met the Leader’s gaze, his eyes showcasing confidence, as if he expected his actions to have been the obvious and rational course of action.

“I killed him because he was a threat to us. We would all have been killed or handed over to the Justice Office for our parts in the failure. I knew the representative that they sent. His name was Deumak, and he was a selfish, conniving idiot.”

Triezal sneered the words out, his tone emphasizing the derision that he clearly felt for the dead man. He and the Leader’s eyes were still locked with one another.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of what’s happening, hidden away out here, but there’s only so much failure that the Epon will accept, particularly if the representative is the sort who is happy to pin all the blame for his failed mission on us. Our actions gave us all at least a decade more to live, and without tipping off any other underworld organizations of conflict with our backer. Shouldn’t you be thanking us?” he asked, turning his spiteful tongue onto the Leader himself.

Kalthen shifted nervously, worried that his friend had taken the matter too far.

“You have doomed us all!” boomed the Leader, his voice filled with rage. He had raised himself up higher, standing up on his legs to loom over the table. Triezal stood as well, while Kalthen and his members still sat in their seats, as if calmly awaiting the dispute’s conclusion.

“We were already doomed. Do you wish to continue complaining about events that have already occurred, or do you want to move on and see what can be done for the future, Kadeki?”

Kalthen couldn’t help but gape as he heard the Leader’s real name. He glanced over at his mother and uncle, seeing similar but more subdued reactions from them. They had all heard the name before, and couldn’t help but connect it to a famously cruel young official who had worked for the government of Opportunity before its fall, known for his avarice and complete disregard for innocent lives when quelling the riots.

If it really was him, this would mean that the Leader was either far older than they had thought, or had spent a great deal of time in suspended animation.

One of the leader’s legs flashed out, ripping an expensive painting from the wall and smashing its frame against the floor. He turned back to face Triezal and Kalthen, settling back into his seat as if he had calmed down. Kalthen could tell this was not the case, however. He could see a slight tremble of rage still suffusing the man’s small frame.

“Fine then,” he said, as if his violent outburst had not occurred. “Do tell what great ideas you had for next steps, now that you have already dragged the rest of us onto your sinking ship.”

Triezal smiled politely.

“I am glad to see you have come to your senses. My intentions are simple. We build up our military forces as much as possible, and ally with other groups. If the Epon send a strike force, it should be possible to defeat them, unless they send a Shade after us.”

“But they will send one of the Shades. So long as that alien Shade is here to attract their attention, they will seek to acquire it.”

The words came from Kalthen’s mother, who had finally spoken up.

“Such a plan is worthless unless you have a method of defeating one of them,” agreed the Leader.

“Shades are not without their weaknesses,” replied Triezal. “Even Ottrien himself died.”

“At the hands of an ascendant,” interjected Astna, shaking her head. “We cannot trust any of our technology in the face of one of the Epon’s Shades. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are secret backdoors hidden inside of their programming that we don’t know about. They gave us the design, after all.”

An idea suddenly sprung into Kalthen’s head, and he couldn’t help but blurt it out.

“Rachel clearly doesn’t wish to be captured again,” he said.

All eyes turned to him.

“Rachel… the alien Shade?” asked his uncle, vaguely remembering the name.

Kalthen nodded.

“Everything bad that has happened to us in the past month has been because of her escape and evasion of our attempts to recapture her. I just thought that perhaps she might want to avoid recapture more than she wants revenge against us.”

“Using a Shade to deal with a Shade…” muttered the Leader, some of the tension finally leaving his body. “How powerful do we know this enemy Shade to be?” he asked.

After a moment to gather his thoughts, Kalthen replied, unconsciously speaking with a professorial intonation. He had done far too much research on the Shade after finding out about her existence.

“All we know for certain of the alien Shade’s capabilities is that it can access the network and create realistic holograms that are beyond even our own technology,” he said. “I’ve heard it can even replicate scents.”

“No evidence that it has much knowledge of engineering,” noted Triezal. “I would have expected construction of weapons to be one of its first priorities, but the Redwater Sect has done nothing of the sort.”

“More advanced in some ways, and less in others,” mused Astna, idly. “But I suspect that the teleportation effect the Riverfiend has used multiple times to escape us was the Shade’s doing. That was clearly a use of extant miasma, and Riverfiend can only use formless.”

Kalthen and Triezal had previously come to a similar conclusion. The fact that the martial artist had not used the capability at the black market had further supported this idea.

“Though we cannot truly judge its nature without knowing the purpose for which it was created, I believe we need to worry less about the Shade’s interest in collaboration, and more about the Seiyal’s,” rumbled Deuvar.

His sister turned to him, questioningly.

“You believe he is controlling it somehow?”

He shook his head.

“I suspect they have come to some sort of arrangement, but it is clear that the Shade is working to support the organization that the two have created. It might be wiser to treat them as a joint entity in negotiation.”

The Leader suddenly turned to Kalthen’s mother, who regarded him coolly.

“Find out the Shade’s design purpose, as well as that primitive’s true goals and report them both to me and the Vice-Leader.”

She bowed her head slightly.

“By your will, Leader.”

He then turned to Deuvar.

“Minimize conflicts and focus on consistent expansion. Try to prevent further escalation with the upstarts until your sister increases our understanding of them.”

He nodded meekly. Kalthen knew that the Leader was perhaps the only man in existence who his Uncle would act in such a way before.

Finally, the Leader turned to face across the table to Triezal and Kalthen.

“Now that you have cast aside your rank in the Epon, you are nothing except a member of this organization. I will let you keep your rank for now, but if you disobey me again,” he said, speaking in a very threatening tone, “I will have you executed without appeal. The same goes for you.”

The last words were directed at Kalthen, who quickly nodded his head. The two of them replied in unison, with the only words that they could.

“I understand, Leader.”

He nodded approvingly.

“Return the forces to their normal protective positions. Triezal, you will once again manage our expansion into Otan. Kalthen… you will manage the titans.”

His gaze turned harsh once more.

“You are being entrusted with this because you do not represent a potential information leak. One more mistake and you will be sent to the Justice Office.”

Kalthen was exhilarated even despite the threat. He had only seen one of the titans once before, and this job had once been his aspiration when he was far younger. He had originally trained as an enforcer pilot because of his interest in the titans.

“I understand, Leader,” he said once again.

It felt as if the world had finally been restored to its rightful state.

Titans: [No mortal race understands flickering miasma like the Celans do, not even most ascendants and Osine. The secrets of the chaotic force that it represents are some of the deepest depths of modern science, and knowledge of them comes with great power. The pinnacle of mechanical armor technology in Telles, Titans are vast constructions that fuse miasma and metal at a nearly fundamental level, resulting in machines piloted by mortals, but with combat potential equivalent to a lesser ascendant, also known as an earthly immortal. Highly sought after by the other advanced races for the technological secrets they represent, titans are extremely illegal, for a single titan is capable of destroying an entire space habitat if its pilot wished. Despite being famed, some doubt the very existence of titans, as Celan organizations within the Pantheonic Territory usually refuse to show them, claiming they are too dangerous to be used. As even enforcers are powerful enough they can wipe out nearly anything in their path, there may be some merit to this assertion.]