Kaustir, Chapter 3

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H'KAL
The Wraith beckoned H'kal to enter the chamber. He stepped inside, leaving his enforcers outside the doorway. He bowed before the High Inquisitor. "I am H'kal, Equal of Dorgrad, Foreman and Enforcer."

"What is it, Foreman?"

"As you may have seen, there have been multiple riots and fights starting in the lower levels of Dorgrad. The enforcers cannot tame them, for they too have their own views. I have men in both sides of the fighting, but they are being dealt with. I made sure personally. As for the Ipari, they are stretched too far and too thin to aid us. If we requisition any more, the surface will be left unguarded." H'kal straightened his back more.

"I ask for aid. A show of power. A warning to those who would continue the fighting. The enforcers have kept peace and obedience in Dorgrad once, but now they have rallied and have a false sense of authority. If some powerful outside force could dissuade their attempt at civil war, then they would simply go back to work.

"All I need is a fighting force more suited to skirmish combat, rather than simply whipping workers. And I know just the woman who might learn a thing or two from commandeering her own force at bringing down rebels. If she'll accept."
 
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Amalia

Cull? No, Amalia would rather change those around her. No culling. No killing.

But a darker part of her self laughed at that testimony. She was in the military now. Of course she would kill. She had to if she were to survive.

Amalia wasn't leaving just yet. She had one more question to ask, and that answer was meant to obtain a valuable piece of information about Lut Sar. He acknowledge that it was his failure, but there was something more that Amalia Lortik wanted.

"... Are you sadden by the loss of so many innocent people?"

Lut Sar
Lut held a hand up to stop H'Kal's speech, pursing his lips as they both collided - and exchanged, their words at the entrance-exit.

"What is innocence, General?"

"The babe born to slaves, the slaver who wields his whip .. no one decides who gets to be who."

"The only ones who sentence the guilty, and reward the innocent, are those with the sword, shield, and bow."
That was the Kaustir way.

"Those who died directly under my watch are guilty." He raised his hands into the air, gazing up through the rock into the sky above, perhaps a mocking gesture. "But those who were not judged by me - by the Czar, died innocent."

~

"H'Kal. I am here to restore the peace. Not lead troops into combat."

Lut's stare bored into the Enforcer. "Think. What would your woman in mind do?"

"Furthermore, why are you so interested in commanding a force ... by proxy?"

H'Kal
H'kal coughed, unnerved by the stare. "What I meant was to lend me some men. I have no experience leading, so I would not lead them myself. The woman I was referring to was the First General. I simply thought this would be a good learning experience for her."

He looked at Amalia. "Don't you agree, General?"
 
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Amalia
It was a frustrating answer, and Amalia attempted to hide her frustration with a cool and calm expression. She nodded stiffly to Lut Sar and wanted to depart quickly. There was sleep to be had but H'kal stopped her.

Her heart froze upon seeing his face. Her mind flashed to Theo, limping because this Enforcer beat him. And the orders to beat an innocent person came from Foreman Henvit, who wanted to hide the truth of the insects from everyone in Dorgrad.

But was he at fault? H'kal didn't know that there was an infestation. Yet he obeyed an order to hurt someone, and broke their bones in the process. Were the lowly subjects meant to take blame for the actions of their superiors?

Amalia steeled her nerves and looked to Lut Sar. Her calmness was cold and icy.

"I've men and women who are already hurt from the recent attack, and we'll be heading to Avarath soon. I don't think it's wise to hurt them further." She inclined her head. "Unless... You want me to take care of the issue High Inquisitor."

Lut Sar
"There is no need." Lut leaned back in his chair, the back legs creaking under his weight.

"The General leads ... will lead our armies to bury our enemies."

"That is not what I am here for. I am here to restore order to citizens who have gone astray. Your request is denied. After I am finished with this Chamber, we will move towards the lower areas. You are welcome to observe."

Amalia
"Very well High Inquisitor," and bowed deeply.

She departed quickly, refusing to meet H'kal's eyes. If the Enforcer so much as held a grudge for her opinions or stance on the position, Amalia did not care. Her head pounded from the concussion and from the hurricane of questions brewing within her. If she did not get some sleep soon she would clobber the next person who tried to ask a favor of her.
 
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The Worm Caves
cave_by_gumpshmee-d3114zb.jpg

"So is this it?"

"It's a fucking cave isn't it."

Gwendolyn shot Nassad a look before pulled the cart to the side. They had traveled most of the day to reach the caves, and it was a rather simple place. From the clusters of rocks it appeared as if a worm had slowly carved out it's interior, but this must have been centuries ago. It smelled of sulfur and wet rock. There must have been a waterfall nearby, maybe one that had formed long ago with this mound of rocks that had been dignified as a cave.

"We stay here for tonight, we'll reach Dograd in a day or so." Nassad unpacked a couple of bedrolls as well as his personal belongings. They set up in a small nook in the cave and began a fire.

"So, tell me about yourself Nassad."

Nassad tilted his head at the Avian and started to stoke the fire.

"There must be something interesting about you? Lost lover? A mysterious past?"

Nassad sighed and then began to speak. "Well once upon a time there was a little shit named Nassad. He was someone didn't get what he wanted and ended having to tell some story to some talking chicken who keeps asking him questions!"

"Then what happened after that?"

The only conversation that continued after that was the crackles from the fire, and the sounds of the desert. Once morning came they packed up, the pair didn't speak much to each other. Nassad could only think about the journey back to Zirako, and then they would be leaving Kaustir. It had always been his home, this desolate shit stain. The chirp of the black beetles, the smell of a decaying creatures. Nassad's thought was then broken by the chomping of the seeds that Gwendolyn was eating.

"One day you'll run out of seeds and have to eat something that we have caught."

"I think I packed a second bag..."

Nassad rolled his eyes and the pair continued toward Dograd.

Dograd
The pair trekked toward Dograd with pair in their legs and the heat of the sun making their skin blister. They continued to push until they reached a pair of Ipari guards who lead them into Dograd. Nassad breathed heavily as he entered into the massive city. The people moved back and forth to finish jobs set at hand. Nassad enjoyed seeing the people, the pale colors, and the smell of hard work.

Gwendolyn turned to one of the Ipari that lead them into Dograd. "Take us to the Minotaur that is called Theo."




 
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THE DORGRAD MINER
Theo had helped where he could, but he wasn't a builder or an architect and the constant tracking and mapping was prolonging the pain in his leg. He wouldn't want to join the fighting even if he could - much less as the opponents became his comrades instead of bugs - but he was just so tired of seeing his home as a ruin.

People he grew up with had turned into monsters, scrabbling towards chaos and eschewing their senses. The cultists and the draken separatists were visible symptoms, but solving them alone would not fix what ailed Dorgrad.

The High Inquisitor's presence, intended to quell the chaos, would succeed in its goal. Quotas would resume being met as they weeded out the traitors. But underneath? Resentment was staining the miners' loyalties and Theo could only sit and listen.

In the lowly miners barracks whispers of discontent and plans of escape still occurred, even among those assumed sane. In particular, a small group Theo used to work with, and now roomed with, were worrying him.

"Dorgrad is no paradise," their ringleader, Maleka, said, "They feel us lies with our gruel."

"What are you saying?"

"They let us die."

"I've helped them to free refugees - I know they are trying -"

"Open your eyes, stupid beast. Dorgrad is dead. And while our brothers riot and die what should we do? Sit back and suffer for their bravery?"

He left the barracks not long after that, his mind too full of nonsense to rest.

Nonsense, and guilt, as the feeling of satisfaction as Henvit went limp in his arms made his stomach churn once more. It came up frequently in his thoughts and it drove him to despair.

Theo hadn't been summoned by the High Inquisitor yet, but he found himself heading in that direction anyway. Perhaps to restore faith in his own loyalty, perhaps to appease that sickening guilt, he had to find someone else to help.

It was the only distraction he had.
 
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Dorgrad

"No."

The mask of the Ipari guard was stoic metal. He gave the answer matter-of-factly, and silence followed, broken by the background rumble of mine and magma. Above his shoulders, near the rim of the Great Entrance, a dozen wooden spikes were driven into rock. On each, a body impaled. The traitors of the Turbatus Cult. Their twisted bodies were plethora: some draped with ministerial robes, some in militia uniform, others the rags of miners. Dorgrad had darkened since Nassad's last visit.

"Excuse me?" The slaver stood squarely with the guard, but received no change in temperament. The Ipari was a picture of cool menace.

"You are citizens of Kaustir - that much I know. So you are welcome to refill your waterskins, or to sleep one night in the tents." His unarmed hand motioned to the windwept camp of canvas where Amalia's camels slept. "More than that would make me a fool." He clasped his hands again around the hilt of his war-axe, looking Nassad up and down. "You have no uniform, no Inquisitor's seal, no badge of office nor letter of sanction." His abyssal stare met the slaver's. "I will not be taking you into the mines."

Nassad leant against his wagon and smiled. "And should I tell the Czar that you re--"

Gwendolyn cut in front of him and broke his threat, speaking quickly with a smile. "My servant is confused - forgive us. The journey has been long."

Nassad scowled at the interruption.

"You are Gwendolyn Claudes?" The faintest note of surprise escaped the Ipari's mask.

Gwendolyn feigned delight. "Why, yes! It's good to know I'm still memorable." He rubbed his poster boy face.

"You took the head of the Sonoran Warlord, at the Battle of Crayvik."

"A lifetime ago" The Avian laughed and slapped the guard on his armoured shoulder.

"An honour to meet you, Sergeant. But my words still stand. There are uprisings in the mine and I cannot let--"

Gwendolyn didn't miss a beat. "Precisely why we were called. Comrade Theo Maladas is second apprentice to the Printsmith. Or rather the first, now that poor Angelo was lynched." The name was fictitious - he doubted the Ipari would check it. "The Commissariat has commissioned the Printsmith to produce a new run of imperial posters. Something to remind the Equals of the empire's glory."

As if nothing more needed to be said, Gwendolyn framed his own face with his hands and smiled. His Aux was lending coruscating glimmer to his flesh, as if a sample of the posters he would soon adorn.

"Comrade Theo Maladas is on Hero's Leave. He killed a traitor to the empire."

"And that is why he has the time to draw me." Gwen's words were as swift as his wings. "Comrade Theo does not like to sit idle. A day away from the ore-face is a day wasted, if not serving the Worker's Paradise." He sighed a little. "Give us an escort if you wish, my friend. Perhaps Theo could draw them too." Another gamble. Gwen knew the Ipari were already stretched.

The guard lifted his weapon slowly and slid it into its sheath. For a moment he examined the war hero's face and then, with a nod, he turned.

"I will take you to the first checkpoint. Leave the wagon here, and follow."

He set off between the blood-soaked spikes, kicking aside the husk of a dead mantis drone. The distance was enough for Gwendolyn to whisper quickly to Nassad. "Remember what I told you. The Czar wants this off the record." Then he rushed to catch up with the guard and take the first step into the infernal shaft of the city.

The kidnappers had crossed the threshold.
 
"Get used to the taste of dust, Nu." He struck her back with a cane of split reeds as she tried to escape. Sobbing, she straightened herself, slipping back to kneeling on her right knee, head bowed. Her movements were further restricted by the over-sized bolt of cloth draped around her. "It is our place to kneel. To fulfill our purpose as we are ground down into the dirt." Nu could still not comprehend all of what he said. His language was still too subtle for her to translate. He brought the cane down again, as she tried to evade from such a distance.
"You must be the most deadly when you kneel."




Far to the left of the Inquisitor's flanking Lut Sar, a girl knelt. She had done so for the entirety of the trial; so silent and still that it was easy to forget her small, dark presence. She was Nu, Lut Sar's contracted bodyguard.

"That is not what I am here for. I am here to restore order to citizens who have gone astray. Your request is denied. After I am finished with this Chamber, we will move towards the lower areas. You are welcome to observe."

Something caught H'kal's gaze as Lut Sar spoke. A winged shadow passed over him, glided across the floor. It ended on Nu, kneeling on her right knee. She had notched a bow, drawn from within the over-sized embroider shawl draped around her. Her target was H'kal, who had disrespected the First General of Kaustir in the presence of the High Inquisitor. Nu did not fire, she awaited Lut Sar's order to execute the Draken.
 
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H'Kal
"H'Kal." Nu's arrow trembled under the tension of the bowstring.

"We are not here to coerce our Comrades in Dorgrad to work under threat of force. Everyone works together for the Common Goal."

"It is true that there are those who may be led astray." Her arrow lowered, by some hidden signal from Lut. "But that is why I am here."
Takeda
Takeda watched as Amalia walked off in a tiff surely a result of sleep deprivation. "You, you're next!" a guard shouted at Takeda, who scowled at the guards tone. The interrogator before him made him chuckle a bit, not out of disrespect, mind you, but out of surprise, it was Lut Sar his former student. The swordsman bowed to the inquisitor before sitting.

"Takeda. My old teacher." Humans, with their shorter lifespan, burned the fiercest and brightest, spending their life in a frenzy of activity and learning, reaching the zenith that few Nocturnes could ever hope to graze. Indeed, most long lived nocturnes spent their time next to humans, unable do anything but fly as a moth to the candlelight.

"Lut Sar, it would seem you have come a long way since the arena. Congratulations on your promotion." Takeda's tone was playful, but respectful none the less. Though to Takeda Lut still seemed to carry a smugness about himself. The same smugness that Lut carried when he first started his combat training.

Lut snorted. Only between the two would he act this way. "You could call it a promotion, I guess. How is the General's progress?"

"Well, I can tell you that she knows the correct way to hold a weapon now." Takeda smiled and laughed a bit. "These past three days have been filled with nothing but heavy training. She chose the way of the sword and I can safely say she can defend her people.... though there is still much for her to learn."

Lut leaned back in his chair.
"Dont forget that humans need to rest too." He spoke in memory of their endless, back-to-back sessions. "Is there anything you wish to tell me about the events that occurred here?"

Takeda nodded and pulled Henvit's journal "We rummaged through foreman Henvit's room and found his journal. Its pages are smitten with rantings about the Firelord. We believe that he was the fuse that set off this entire ordeal. There are also passages about the insect queen that date back to five or six months ago, and judging on how many insects we fought I'd wager she has been here longer."

Perfect. Takeda handed the journal to a Wraith, who left with a few Inquisitors to an upper level.
 
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At some indeterminate time in a private space ..., grey


"Are you STUPID?"

nu2.png

Nu's eyes barely had time to open in surprise as she tumbled backwards from her kneeling position, a staff ramming into her stomach. Lut strode forward, pulling his arm sleeves up.

"I'm not here because of bloodlust, you sand breather!" Thwock.

"Things must be done a certain way in Dorgrad. Why can't you stop and think at least for the shadow of a passing cloud?" Zirako slang, meaning an instant. Lut relapsed into complex vernacular, his tongue slithering and clicking in words she still had difficulty understanding. Thwock. "You thought, oooh, I'm hot shit, I'm the rain, I can kill people with a bow from a hundred steps, I can scare them back into line?? Respect for force isn't worth rat's blood in Dorgrad, scarab-brains!"

Thwock. She still kneeled, but soon had to shield her face and crawl away from him. Still he towered over her.

"Open." Thud. "Your." THUD. "FUCKING. EYES."

His chest felt constricted. A ball of hot light ricocheted in his stomach. He reached, hands slithering between her guard.

nuouch.jpg

Hah ...

Hhh ...

Hhh ...

bite.jpg

Lut covered his face with the other hand, tossing her to the ground. He stepped backwards, light on the foot, and seized a wineskin full of blood, downing it noisily. He could never bring himself to feed from her. Her blood would taste like his past.
 
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The Interrogation Room
Rakar and Coros entered the interrogation room, taking a seat at the table opposite the High Inquisitor.

"Young soldier. What are your thoughts on the Drakens' actions in Dorgrad?"

There was a pause after Lut's question. Rakar had hoped never to have to speak to this man again, but unfortunately, that was not the case. However, it would be Coros who would be doing the talking this time.

"The actions of the Draken? Well, I think they are mistaken if they believe as those in Avarath seem to, that they are above other races. There is no one superior race in Kaustir. It takes all kinds to drive the war machine."

His answer was by-the-book, and there was a faint look of disgust on Rakar's face as he stared at the High Inquisitor, never shifting his gaze away.

"..."

"Young soldier. What are your thoughts on the Draken's actions in Dorgrad?"
He simply repeated the question. To make a judgement, one had to have the full answer. If the suspect did not give the full answer, Lut would have to start guessing to the answer on his own. Never a good thing.

His eyes narrowed momentarily. Coros continued to speak for them.

"I assume that by "the draken" you mean, the rioters, the cultists, as I myself am a draken and am not a part of any of those groups. Simply put, High Inquisitor, they are a menace, misguided by false prophecies, delusional. If they cannot be persuaded, then they must be destroyed for the greater good."

Again, the answer was perhaps the best answer that could be given, and he spoke only the truth. He answered only what was asked of him, and nothing more. His subtle disgust was still evident.

"You are free to voice your displeasure with me, Survivor." Lut finally let slip, leaning forward. "Or not."

"As long as the service you render is worth more than my indignation."
Threat dispensed, he smiled, signaling an end to the interview. "Please keep the General safe, and grow her well."

It took every ounce of will power Rakar had not to lunge across the table and tear Lut apart. The irritation that K'Jol had brought him before was nothing compared to the rage that this man gave him with every word he spoke. But now was not the time. It was not fear that kept him silent, having only gritted his teeth at the High Inquisitor before standing and barging out, but rather, it was the fact that he knew nothing would come of it if he spoke or attacked. Nothing he could say would even make Lut flinch, and nothing he could do at this moment would make a difference. Not here, not today.


Later, in the Barracks:

Rakar entered the barracks around an hour after his little chat with Lut. He had finally managed to calm down after taking a walk, and did his best to push the thoughts of murdering Lut and Lukesh out of his mind.

Upon entering, he stopped and looked around at everyone, scanning the room. A sigh escaped from his nostrils, and he suddenly felt the exhaustion of the these past few days catch up to him. Stepping to the side, he sat down on the floor next to the door, making sure he would not be hit by it if someone opened it, and leaned his back up against the wall. With a thud, his large tower shield fell to the floor next to him, and he stretched his legs out in front of him. He thought about removing his armor, but decided against it, as it was still early in the evening, and he did not want to be caught without it again should another crisis arise.

Coros leaped down to the ground, and curled up next to him as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. They would be returning to Avarath very soon, and he would likely be forced to kill his own people. But no... They weren't his people. Not anymore. They stopped being his people when they turned on the innocents of Kaustir. When it came down to it, he would not hesitate to kill them. Targeting Nocturnes like that... Despicable.

Then a thought occurred to him. There was an innocent Nocturne with them, Arania. He remembered what she had said before. "But I doubt it will be easy for me to just walk around. Even if I am not part of the richer areas of Avarath that has been attacked, fact remains that I'm a Nocturne, and that seems their target, does it not?"

Perhaps she was afraid? Or merely concerned? Regardless, she proved herself to be a good person in Rakar's eyes, even treating other's wounds before her own. She was proof that not all Nocturnes were deserving of such disdain, even though Lut and Lukesh seemed to do everything they could to disprove it in Rakar's eyes.

Coros and Rakar looked over to her as she laid resting on her bed. After a moment, Coros got up and strolled over to her bed, leaping up onto it and sitting down next to her head. He, like Rakar, looked tired, and his voice reflected that feeling.

"Thank you for everything you've done here. When we arrive in Avarath, you should stay close. We feel that you may not be safe otherwise."
 
Dorgrad
Air above - the Dorgradi Wastes. Fire below - the Magma River. Earth between - the Chamber Mines. And water sweated throughout. The four elements were ever present in the Worker's Paradise, and as macrocosm to microcosm they came together in the Metal Forge. That ring of smithies above the mine and below the entrance was known as the Steel Crown of Dorgrad.

Here was a different breed of worker, a middle class of artisan. The warsmith bourgeois. Families of Air, who worked the titan bellows and crawled like ants between the ventilation shafts, scraping fungus and slaying gargoyles. Families of Fire who fed the forge and tweaked the perfect temperature of ash bed, flame and ember. Families of Water who filled the cooling buckets and plunged the fresh-hewn weapons to hissing afterbirth. And Families of Earth, who cleared the mountainous slag piles from the workshops.

From this last faction, a daily shower of rock was dropped from the slag pods into the molten river below.

It was here, against the backdrop of falling debris, that two men wrapped the one-hundred-and-eighty-ninth victim of the Dorgradi Troubles. The gantry was lined with corpses entombed in white, as if some great spider had passed through here and lain its payload of cocoons. All shapes and sizes - from the seven foot draken to the four-legged anima - outlined in cloth. And one by one, like the slag rock chunks, they were tipped into the lake of fire.

"She was a pretty one." The older of the two passed the cloth roll over the next dead face. It was Lut Sar's wraith - the anima girl who had died in Amalia's bed. The material sagged into the open breach of her chest wound.

"She served him - the Inquisitor." The younger stood a little way off with a torch. "They say Lut Sar has dozens of 'em."

"Aye." The elder paused and rubbed his thumb over the dead girl's cheek, leaving dirt smudges on her fur. He didn't know why he did it. Though he had been a father once, before his daughter vanished into service to the nocturnes. "That's a face of peace there, boy. Serenity."

"Soaring what?"

"Serenity. It means acceptance. Grace. She knew she was dying and she didn't scream, didn't grimace. She just... did her job."

"He's got another one." The younger man crouched and helped his master loop the cloth around. "Comrade Abhiswane said he seen the Inquisitor with his own eyes, in Chamber Nine. He had this girl with him. But she weren't masked like the others."

"She's got some time to go, then."

"What's that?"

"Before she becomes like this one." He passed the cloth across the eyes of the dead anima. "Before death and duty look the same, and even the body can't feel the difference."

The two men tipped the girl into the molten river and proceeded to the next corpse. Rocks rained around them, a constant drumming. The beat of time.
 
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ARANIA VELKA
[dash=magenta]Arania had been lying with her eyes closed, though unable to sleep. Her body felt like someone had beaten her to a pulp and thrown her down a rocky hill until she was batted and bruised, and it condemned her to stay awake. The young woman was going through her options. If her shop had been blown up, she was going to stay. But if it hadn't... what should she do? She had a few people in the back of her mind that she needed to inform, get some books, and a few herbs, and then otherwise take care of the place on her own so that no one else would get to demolish it before she got there herself.

The first thing that the young Nocturne woman heard was a familiar voice. Her eyes opened and she sat up in the bed, her eyes gliding to Coros as she smiled tiredly.

"There's no need to thank me, in the end, that is all I'm useful for. I cannot give much of an aid in battle, so I have to take care of the wounds caused afterwards." She reached her hand out reluctantly and petted Coros, but quickly pulled her hand back again, folding her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes, trying to vision her shop. Maybe it was gone already.

"I would like to at least return to my home once. If there's something left of it, there's a few things I'd like to get. I didn't exactly expect a rebellion, so I didn't bring them. The things aren't something that is vital for my survival, or important... but it might be useful." Arania got up from the bed, her eyes focusing on Rakar as she smiled gently, her posture straight and even proud despite her aches from both her injuries and using her healing magic.

"If it is really that dangerous, you could always accompany me. It will only take moments, and then I will be gone from there forever." She said as she closed her eyes, plopping back onto the bed with a tired expression. It was like it had always been. She was going to be on the run again, albeit this time not alone. Maybe she would see something else at the end of this that wasn't the despair she felt back then. She had been alone in a merciless world where no one wanted her anything good. Her life had been a blur of pain and fear and running, running and never stopping. Going back to that lifestyle... maybe it was her call.

Her nature.
[/dash]
 
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THE MINER'S INTERROGATION
In his ambling route in search of jobs, Theo was intercepted by a figure in a golden mask and asked to follow him. It wasn't too long ago he had been wondering when he might be called - and now he stood opposite Lut.

Firstly, the facts: the easiest bit of the discussion.

And then, as if he could see Theo's internal strife on his face, Lut asked Theo what was on his mind. It took all of Theo's courage to reply as truthfully as he had to previous questions.

"My comrades... The miners feel like they were abandoned by Dorgrad when the going got tough. They need something to restore their faith, instead of these interrogations that just push them further... with all due respect."

"Theo. First among Equals, Hero of the Folk." Lut leaned forward, shadow lengthening behind him. "Have I not treated everyone fairly? You have seen how I restore order amongst our people. We can only be Comrades if each and every one of us believes so from our heart. For those faint of heart, I give them redemption and purpose. I am merely a mirror to be used to test your faith." He gestured upwards to the levels he had left, renewed with fire, forge, and industry. "But there are those beyond redemption. And they have no place here. Not all minds are equal in fortitude. How can a mind poisoned by this .. Queen, be healed? He gazes at me and all he sees is himself wrapped in a silk cocoon. It is impossible."

"Of course, High Inquisitor. You're right. Perhaps I am just troubled unduly. Forgive me." A pause. He wanted to double check he was not at fault for killing Henvit but the words escaped him. He didn’t want to invite punishment where none was due. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Comrade." Lut pursed his lips, rubbed his chin. "Perhaps you speak the truth. Let us try what you have in mind for the next chamber. Depending on how they act in turn to us, one of us will learn something about the other's mind today."

"If you think that is best, sir." He clicked his hooves nervously.

"Then let us meet one level down."

Theo nodded silently and, sensing the unspoken dismissal, began to back out of the tent.

"Comrade." Theo turned, finding Lut writing notes on a small stack of paper. "Although the Czar is ultimately the one who decides punishment (even I only execute his will, through interpretation), when he is not among the Equals in Dorgrad, we are all his Equals, and trusted to carry out his vision. Whatever action that may entail."

He was halfway along the corridor back to the barracks before it occurred to him Lut may have been referencing Henvit. The implication was somewhat soothing, but the guilt remained: even if it was the right action, was it tainted by the fact it was done for the wrong reasons?
 
Avarath, brown

It's a small town square. There are hundreds just like it all over Avarath. An open space in the middle covered with brown dirt and surrounded by white houses with flat roofs.

This early morning it is crowded. There is plenty space left for the audience that has gathered by the execution stand – a wooden stage with a block for the damned to lay his head on. There are guards situated on the roof-tops as far as the eye can see. The windows of nearby apartments are cramped by civilians who have huddled together to look – hoping that the they are safe from terrorist attacks inside their homes.

In the house behind the stage. Kirtin and Gulzar are arguing as always. The General leans with his back against the wall while the Mayor airs his opinions. At the other side of the room Zarathustra stands on his knees, his face is swollen and bruised from beatings. The only spot of sun inside shines on him, highlighting his draken face. Two men in the usual red and silver uniform of the city defence guard him.

"This'sssss..." Gulzar slips out a long snakey "s" – a trait typically associated with draken speech. A trace from days long passed. "...would never have happened had it not been for the Czar's strict policies on religion!" His voice almost shoots at General Kirtin. The tiger anima seems unfazed, plucking dirt off his claws.


"We have their leader, Mayor." Their eyes meet. "When this is over, they will lose their enthusiasm." He motions for the ceremony to start with a wave of his hand. "The Burning Czar will prevail as always."


The sound of a horn signals their entrance. First Zarathustra and the guards, then Kirtin and Gulzar. The officials take seats on the opposite long end to the execution block. Zarathustra and the executioner inspect each other before he is roughly forced back down on his knees and his head is planted on the block.

"RIP HIS SCALES OFF! ONE BY ONE!" one outs.

"BURN 'IM ALIVE!" another shouts.

"PUT'IM IN DA FREEZAH!!! a third onlooker wishes for the captive to be sent up north.

Guards positioned around the stage hold them back as the crowd moves closer with a collective push. The crowd turns silent as the executioner swings his body facing Zarathustra. There is no request for any last words, no announcement from either official. They want this over with quickly.

The shadow of a rising longaxe motions over the gaping gathering, and then...


Thud!...Thud!...Thud!

The axe falls behind him, next comes the big guy, three arrows to the side of his head.

People scream and crash into each other as the silence ruptures. On the rooftops fights have already broken out. Zarathustra pushes himself up on his legs and makes a run for it, but is grabbed by Kirtin and quickly finished – blood pours down his throat.

Next, a rain of incoming arrows showers the stage, the General is hit in the shoulder while the Mayor has already fled.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! WASTE THE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!" Kirtin roars to his men.

While the city defenders and rebels fight - in what seems to be the first real open battle of the rebellion – Gulzar activates his advent.

He elevates into the air with the help of his eagle aux, Ari. A nocturne child clings on to the draken's body.
 
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Nils walked along silently, alone in his thoughts as he walked the path to the barracks where the General slept. He had already decided to stay in Dorgrad, after spending days in a cell and being berated by his captain Nils had acknowledged the fact that it was for the best if he did not return to the General. But he did still have unfinished business, he had a debt to repay and the opportunity had finally came for him to act. Walking past the barracks Nils spotted Theo leaving the interrogation area, approaching him hesitantly Nils awkwardly cleared his throat to get Theo's attention. "Um..Theo may I talk to you for a minute?"

Walking alongside the minotaur in silence Nils finally opened his mouth, "Theo, out of everyone i have ever met I consider you my only true friend...I have always searched for a way to repay you for saving my life so long ago but nothing ever fit. But now I can finally pay you back...I am not going back with the General, I would only be a liability due to my recent outburst...but I want you to take my place instead." Showing a rare sign of compassion Nils put his hand on Theo's shoulder. "I need to pay for what I have done, but you have a chance that nobody ever gets. To leave Dorgrad, to see the sun, to have an adventure." Smiling sadly Nils fiddled with his chain awkwardly. "There are plenty of minotaurs, but Amalia knows you and honestly she needs someone who actually cares about things other than killing or strength...You will get along well with her, that I am sure of..." Taking off his glove Nils pulled off a dull and plain looking ring and pressed it into Theo's hand. "Its time for us to part ways my friend...the General will have greater use of this than I." Nils patted Theo's shoulder and stepped back before giving him a low bow, a sign of the utmost respect. "Take care my friend, may the sands guide you safely and the sun always be at your back." Nils smiled at Theo one last time before turning and walking away into the darkness.
 
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Despite her body's pleas, Amalia could not sleep. Lut Sar's presence kept her from drifting into slumber so she lay there in her cot, pretending. Even Matil participated, curling herself up with eyes closed. She would not let the others in the barracks know that she was awake, listening to Rakar and Arania. She felt guilty for eavesdropping, but she needed to know how the others felt about her position. One day, they could be the ones responsible for her assassination.

Sighing softly, she shifted on her cot, jolting one of her ribs. The pain made her remember.

There was a girl in the interrogation room. A girl that almost didn't want to be noticed, and that was how Amalia nearly forgot she was even there. But remembering her now made the general morose, and she could not understand why. It was almost animalistic, the way this girl laid in the shadows.

It unsettled Amalia, but what more could she do? Kaustir took in slaves all the time, so why did this one agitate her so? It made no sense and Amalia tried to push the thought aside. It wasn't working.

Her Aux responded to the frustration and did so discreetly. Matil placed one soft paw over Amalia's chest, over her heart.

Was this what the girl was missing?
 
Rakar kept his gaze on Coros and Arania during their conversation. His eyes glowed slightly in the dim light of the barracks, a mark of his darkvision. Aux and Crux both remained silent while listening to her speak, taking note of her actions in the process. When she looked to Rakar and smiled, he didn't quite know how to react. So he returned the smile, though it was only a half smile due to his exhaustion.

After she laid back down, Rakar was wondering what to say next. His mind was working slower as well. Finally, Rakar spoke himself, his voice low, but still carried through the room effortlessly.

"Your skills are just as important as mine, or any soldier's. Without people like you, people like me wouldn't live as long. Those like me fight to defend others. Those like you make sure that there are people left to defend. Without one, the other would surely fall. That is simply the way of things..."


It was clear that he was becoming more and more tired. He didn't normally talk like that. It was beginning to make him not care so much about keeping his thoughts to himself.

"My duty is to the General. There will be fighting, bloodshed. Death. But when there is time for it, I will escort you to where you need to go. Until then, stay close, and you will be safe. I'll keep you alive. You'll do the same."


His gaze left her, and he slowly started to go limp as his eyes fought to remain open. Coros began doing the same at the edge of her bed, without realizing he was still on it. Rakar's head leaned against the wall. He wasn't quite asleep yet, but the divide between dream and reality was becoming blurred.

 


Once his integration with Lut was done Takeda trudged back to the barracks, his body aching for sleep. Once in the sleeping quarters Takeda regarded Rakar's sleeping position and closed the door quietly. The weary swordsmen lit a candle next to his bed and undressed, making sure to stay quiet. He climbed into his bed put out the light and closed his eye, ready for the darkness to carry him to sleep.

******
Takeda found himself standing in a spot light in a dark room. Harsh whispers could be heard from every angel in the room "What are you?" "Pretender." "Murder!" "Death to you."

"No stop!" Takeda clutched his ears but the voices were not silenced.

Small footsteps could be heard of in the distance and with each passing second they grew louder, heading straight for Takeda. A young girl dressed in a white kimono emerged from the darkness "Father!" she cheered happily. The whispering stopped and Takeda reached out and touched the girl "Aika?" he whispered in disbelief. She grabbed his hand and put it to her face and smiled... she was real. A huge smile ran across Takeda's face and he pulled her in to embrace her "Oh by the sun I have missed you my sweet Aika!" he said stroking her hair. "I've missed you to father." She hugged him back. "Liar" a whisper echoed. Takeda tried to ignore it, but the whispers were slowly coming back. "Murderer."... "Betrayer." "Death to you!" Aika's body went limp, Takeda could feel a warm liquid running down his hands. Takeda opened his eye and saw Aika dead in his arms blood oozing from her chest. "No No NO NONONONO!" He cried out. Just behind Aika was a shadowy figure carrying a black, blood flecked, katana. Its eyes were red and its teeth strung into a crooked smile. Takeda eyes transfixed on the figure. Aika's body was lost to the shadows, and all Takeda could think about was revenge. He drew his blade and charged the shadow coming down with full force. *CHING* The shadow blocked the full force attack with one hand on its blade. "Murderer!" The shadow screamed. With out any hesitation the shadow moved behind Takeda, sword aiming right for his spine. "It was the price to pay for the Desert Wind." it whispered. Before Takeda could speak the being plunged the blade into Takeda.

******
Takeda opened his eyes and jerked upward gasping loudly. He gripped his face and began breathing heavily. Another nightmare, they were becoming more frequent. Takeda sat there in a cold sweat trying to catch his breath.
 
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She had the dagger in her hands the moment Takeda bolted upright in his bed. Amalia too was panting, but not because she had a nightmare, but because she thought someone was making another attempt on her life. Yet she saw that she was safe and what woke her up was her mentor.

All was well.

Amalia placed the dagger on her cot, pulling the linen sheets up to her chest. The general was still clad in her day clothes, as was her habit since coming to Dorgrad.

"I guess I'm not the only one who suffers from nightmares." She brushed a charcoal colored lock of hair from her eyes. "Are you alright?"
 
Dorgrad chamber 10
"I see."

Lut and Theo stood side by side at the landing area to Chamber 10. A short walk down the main spiral ended in a narrow entrance that rapidly opened into a yawning cavern. This chamber was sick. The sounds of industry were muted, and voiced discontent as loud as the pickaxes on ore veins.

The minotaur graciously bowed to whisper words to the High Inquisitor, himself standing on his toes.

Deeper into the chamber, a hulking foreman raised a whip, the backs on the group of miners already red and weeping. His arm was stopped with unnatural force, and he was firmly escorted away a pair of Wraiths. Lut knelt in the empty space, offering a hand to the blank-eyed miners.

"Comrade Slater." Between Comrades, there was no need to exchange introductions.

"Please allow me to apologize on behalf of your foreman. He forgets his purpose."

"Come. New orders from the Czar await. Kaustir awaits our shipments."


Wraiths spread into the Chamber. But they did not have their distinctive cloaks and masks on, instead wearing the clothing of their comrades. They repeated the same exercise with other groups of miners, whether they had persevered through the unsettling events or were actively in disobedience. The leftover signs of gore and insect parts were being scrubbed away. Fresh, alert Ipari were stationed at the insect tunnel entrances, while Earth tribes grunted and poured massive tumblers of concrete into the holes. Lut's contingent laughed and made merriment with the all, not a single golden-helmeted inquisitor in sight; he personally applied healing salves to whip burns, and was assisted in his clumsiness by blushing girl and shy child.

Dorgrad was strong, it's inhabitants were strong. But perhaps it was true, that the Czar, patriarch of Kaustir, needed to show that he was willing to protect all who fell in his shadow.

"Theo, First among Equals. It is true that we have learned from each other today." Lut spat on the ground again, a gesture of respect for those who dwelt the sand, but perhaps not for those who toiled in the mines. Well, he was not perfect.
 
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