Sixteen Days Before Avaman’s Attack…

Someone had tried to kill him. But who?

Those thoughts filled Muzazi's mind as he looked down from the stands of the training arena, watching the Supreme Heir sparring with Morgan Nacht. Nacht's style of swordsmanship was much different from Muzazi's -- all leaping about and constantly moving, taking advantage of his greater agility. Movements that Muzazi would have needed thrusters to pull off, Nacht was able to perform naturally.

He drummed his fingers alongside the sheathed Luminescence, which lay on his lap. Of course, he'd considered the possibility that Nacht was the one who'd tried to kill him. The younger man had threatened him on his first day here, after all. But, no matter how hard he considered the issue, Muzazi couldn't fathom a motive for him to do so. Bitterness over an interrupted sparring match generally did not escalate to murder.

The method of assassination had clearly been premeditated, too -- arrows fired through the ventilation system, targeted at a specific room. It was something that would have required a good deal of time to set up. Shortly before the attack, Muzazi had seen Nacht speaking with Wu Ming in the hallways. It was difficult to picture Nacht detaching himself from that conversation and making the necessary preparations in such a short amount of time.

So, reluctantly, Nacht was crossed off the list.

Muzazi's eyes drifted over to Edward Grace, who was watching the bout from the other side of the stands. He, too, was definitely to be removed from the list of subjects. He had been by the Supreme Heir's side all night as her personal bodyguard. Him not being there for any period of time would have been such an event that Muzazi would surely have heard about it.

The Supreme Heir herself, needless to say, obviously didn't do it either.

Mariana pan Helios could easily have slipped away from the party, though, with how quiet she was -- and judging from the incident in the hallway, she seemed to have something against him. He didn't know what, exactly, but she was certainly a suspect. Thinking about it more, he'd never heard of the Silent Sword using a bow-and-arrow, but it was entirely possible that the weapon had been an Aether Armament.

Yes. An Aether Armament -- which brought Gretchen Hail into the suspect list as well.

It would have been exceedingly simple for her to create a projectile weapon like that, giving the arrows the ability to track their target, and fire it through the vents. She'd been with the Seven Blades for years now -- she'd be familiar with the Child Garden's layout. Still… Muzazi didn't want to believe that the one who'd been kind enough to bring Luminescence back to him would do such a thing. She'd clearly invested effort into him becoming one of the Seven Blades, so why would she then want to invalidate that effort by killing him?

The same went for Baltay Kojirough. He'd gone to an exceptional amount of effort to locate Muzazi and summon him here. That could have been for the purposes of the murder, but why go through all that trouble? He'd never met Baltay before in his life. Why would the leader of the Seven Blades want him dead?

Ionir Yggdrasil… apparently, he wasn't suitable for polite company, so he'd been nesting in the bowels of the ship during the reception. That left him without an alibi, but he also had no motive. Muzazi hadn't so much as spoken to the Fell Beast since he'd arrived.

Or, of course, it could have been any of the guests who had come for the welcome reception. Counting them, the suspect list lengthened considerably.

Muzazi cursed himself for not looking at the arrow when it had disappeared. Even just the colour of the Aether would have been a vital clue.

All this suspicion was exhausting. It was hard to believe, but Muzazi found himself actually missing the presence of the detective Winston Grace. He'd probably be able to solve a case like this with ease.

"Mind if I sit here?" asked Baltay Kojirough.

Muzazi looked up as the leader of the Seven Blades took a seat next to him, looking down at the fight in the arena. The Supreme Heir was soaked with sweat, panting for breath, but still doing her best to overcome her opponent. Atoy Muzazi found perseverance like that more admirable than anything.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Baltay mused, hand on his chin as he looked down at the two clashing fighters.

"What is?" Muzazi asked.

"Effort that won't be rewarded. Aclima can dance around Morgan all day, but the gap between their abilities is simply too great. She won't land a hit on him. I guarantee it."

"Is that your precognition?"

"No," Baltay sighed. "But it's true. Without Aether, an ordinary human can only do so much. Look -- she's exhausted. Morgan's barely broken a sweat. He can keep going, she can't. Even if you forget the difference in strength and agility, their endurance is leagues apart -- and in nearly every battle, the one who can't tough it out to the end is the loser."

"But surely her perseverance counts for something?" Muzazi said. "Her strength of character, if nothing else."

"Sure, sure…" Baltay conceded. "But if perseverance was her Aether Core, she'd have unlocked it a long time ago. I suppose it's our fault, as her teachers…" he sighed. "But still. It's a shame. We must be awful people, to treat a child like this."

Muzazi raised his eyebrows, surprised by Baltay's candor. "She lives with every one of her needs met, with the protection and tutelage of some of the strongest individuals in the Supremacy. She's hardly being mistreated."

A sad smile crossed Baltay's lips as he turned his blue gaze to Muzazi. "Tell me something, Atoy."

"What?"

"If the Supreme Heir came up here, right now, and told me she was tired of all this -- that she didn't want to be Supreme Heir anymore, that she wanted to go and live her own life… do you think I would let her?"

Muzazi did not say anything, but they both knew the answer.

Baltay's eyes returned to the field. "At some point, for all of us," he continued. "A choice is made. The things we’ve done, or the things done to us… it doesn't matter. Once that happens, once that choice is made, we're locked into it. We're stuck on that one fixed path to the end of it all. That's it. None of us can escape."

The words settled like black snow.

This was a melancholy side of Baltay Kojirough that Muzazi had not seen before. Indeed, as he looked down at the Supreme Heir in the arena, it almost looked as though he were glaring. Was Baltay trying to tell him something here? Should Muzazi confide in him regarding the assassination attempt?

Time held Muzazi's tongue for him, as Baltay leaned back in his seat, dark affect fading away. "Anyway," he said, voice bright. "There's something I wanted to let you know about. You remember the pretender Supreme Heir?"

"Of course!" Muzazi hurriedly nodded. That whole ordeal, and the fates of the Special Officers involved, had been raging at the back of Muzazi's mind since he'd first heard about it.

Baltay's eyes flicked this way and that, checking for unwelcome listeners, before returning to Muzazi.

"We have information," he said quietly. "An anonymous tip regarding where Hans Allier will show up -- the Kingmakers' next target, in short."

"Anonymous?" Muzazi frowned. "Is that reliable?"

"I've done a check of the location they mention, and it seems to match the Kingmakers' modus operandi. An isolated Supremacy installation -- a broadcast relay, in this case. Not so different from the Special Officer rest station they hit last time. Slightly better manned, but the same principle applies."

"So…" Muzazi mused. "There's a traitor within their group, then? Someone feeding us information? For what purpose?"

"I don't know." Baltay crossed his arms. "And I dislike not knowing these things, but we can't simply ignore this. Every second those criminals run free is an insult to the Seven Blades."

Quite a difference from last night, when he'd been so fixated on Muzazi's welcome reception. Perhaps it was like the Ascendant-General had said -- even if one dislikes the dance of politics, they cannot escape it. Maybe Baltay held the same sentiments as Muzazi, and simply could not act upon them.

"Do we intercept, then?" he asked, voice low.

Baltay sucked in air through his teeth. "We must go after them while we have their location," he said slowly. "But the Seven Blades have other obligations that must be met. A military parade on Terminus requires the presence of the Supreme Heir. Taking the Child Garden on an interception mission would not be practical with that in mind."

"So we wait?" Muzazi asked indignantly.

"No," Baltay shook his head. "The Seven Blades are an institution, but we are also individuals. Some of us will accompany the Heir, while the others respond to this provocation." He glanced at Muzazi. "Needless to say, you'll be part of the response team for Herum -- the planet that's being targeted."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Muzazi kept his own eyes on the match below, where the Heir finally seemed to have admitted defeat. She had collapsed on the floor, limbs splayed out, her chest heaving for breath. She'd done well all the same.

He nodded and spoke quietly, so that the Heir couldn't hear. "Who else?"

"Ionir Yggdrasil -- he's a reliable sort," Baltay said. "A powerhouse, and with his shape shifting he can fill in many different roles depending on what the situation demands. He'll follow your orders to the letter, don't worry."

"Just my orders?" Muzazi furrowed his brow.

"I've placed you in command of the operation -- so yes," Baltay nodded. "If the other member has a problem with that, he'll just have to deal with it."

Muzazi didn't quite understand why, but his heart dropped deep. "The… other member?"

Baltay nodded down to the arena, and Muzazi dutifully followed his gaze --

-- to where Morgan Nacht was grinning back at him.

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"So," Morgan said, stashing his bag into the available locker. "Boys night out, huh? Exciting stuff."

The excursion crew had assembled in the Rhapsody, Morgan's ship, to make the preparations for their departure. Muzazi had chosen to travel light, with little but his Luminescence and a change of clothes for the way back, but Morgan had clearly gone overboard. This was the third bag he'd brought aboard -- and this was his ship, anyway, so surely he must have had some possessions aboard the vessel already.

Muzazi rubbed his temple, ready for a tiresome journey, when Ionir Yggdrasil caught his eye.

The Fell Beast had situated himself right at the back of the ship, where there was free space for cargo, and transformed. The humanoid shape had been abandoned entirely, replaced by a wooden sphere of wrapped branches and vines. Thin woven ropes of green latched onto the floor of the ship, too, presumably to stop Ionir from rolling around during the journey.

He was even less anthropomorphic than he was usually -- even the square indentation that served as a rudimentary face had vanished completely. It was difficult for Muzazi to even comprehend the fact that he was looking at a thinking being.

When Morgan got no reply, he followed Muzazi's gaze, and nodded knowingly. "Ionir caught your eye, huh? He's in hibernation mode right now. Saving energy for the battle ahead, I'd guess."

"Oh," Muzazi said. "He's asleep?"

"Yep. Out like a --"

Muzazi drew Luminescence in a flash, thrusters boosting the movement to its utmost -- to such a degree that Morgan could not even blink before the sword was right in his face. The tip was pressed against his nose, and as Muzazi held the sword straight, a single drop of blood swam down its surface and dripped to the floor.

Morgan did not move. He just stared at the sword making contact with him. That was a wise decision: if he tried anything, it would be easy for Muzazi to thrust the sword forward and run his skull through.

Skulking around and scrounging for information was not how Atoy Muzazi did things. If he believed he had an enemy, he confronted them.

"Did you try to kill me?" Muzazi asked, voice cold.

"...when?" Morgan asked slowly, hands in the air, clearly trying not to aggravate.

When? Did he try to kill me one time, and not another?

Muzazi narrowed his eyes. "Last night. At the reception. Did you fire arrows through the ventilation system, aimed at me while I was in the bathroom?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that --"

"Answer the question, please." Muzazi pressed Luminescence in just a little bit further, so Morgan could feel it. The first watery drop of blood was joined by a second.

"No," Morgan said. "No, I didn't."

Muzazi looked long and hard into the face of the other Special Officer. He was no Cogitant, able to tell when someone was lying at a glance, but in this sort of situation there was no way that Morgan wouldn't betray a tell. Sweat slowly dripped down Morgan's forehead, but there was no flinch, no twitch, no movement that betrayed deceit.

Slowly, Muzazi retracted his sword, but he did not sheath it. "I believe you," he said gruffly.

Morgan let out a sigh of relief, visibly deflating for a moment before recovering himself. "Someone tried to kill you?" he asked, voice full of confusion. "Using arrows? In the bathroom?"

Muzazi nodded, still keeping a safe distance from the younger man. "Three arrows, fired from another room on the Child Garden. Is this a technique you're familiar with?"

With a shake of his head, Morgan replied: "No. None of the Seven Blades have an ability like that, as far as I know. Well, I guess it could've been one of the guests, or…"

"Or…?"

"Gretchen?" Morgan ventured, face pale. "She could've made a bow-and-arrow Aether Armament with an ability like that."

Muzazi had considered that, of course, but he was doubtful. "Blacksmith as she is, Gretchen Hail is still a swordswoman… do you know if she has experience using a bow like that?"

"It wouldn't matter. It's part of her ability, Ragnarok Forge. She can encode memories into the weapons that she makes -- so long as it's near the user, they can wield it like an expert."

So Gretchen certainly could have been the one who'd attacked him -- but that didn't answer the question of why. He'd sensed no murderous intent from her on any occasion. What reason would she have to take his life?

No, Muzazi felt like he was on the wrong train of thought entirely.

He was broken out of his reverie, though, by Morgan's grave words. "They'll try again, you know." For the first time, his face was deadly serious -- even the sly smirk that seemed a constant decoration was gone.

Muzazi looked up. "What?"

All levity had vanished from Morgan's stance as he took a step to the side, hand resting on his sheathed saber. "You're not the first Blade they've tried to kill. Your predecessor, Gustavo? Someone stabbed him in the back."

Muzazi frowned. He'd suspected something untoward had happened to the Blade he'd replaced, but to have it actually confirmed was another thing entirely… Still, was Morgan someone who's word he could trust?

Well, he could decide whether he trusted it or not once he'd heard it. "Tell me more."

"I will," promised Morgan. "Once we're out of here."

His eyes flicked around, and Muzazi understood immediately. Once he did, a shiver ran down his spine at just how careless he had been. The Child Garden was one of the most important installations in the Supremacy, for propaganda if nothing else. The surveillance aboard such a starship would be beyond nearly anywhere else.

Right now, there were thousands of eyes and ears on them. Outside of the Garden, for a very short while, they could for the first time speak freely.

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Hans Allier stepped through the undergrowth of the jungle, feeling the humid air moisten his skin. He took a lick of his sweaty arm as he emerged from the woods, appreciating the tang of humanity that landed upon his tongue. That flavor was the very proof that he was alive. Sick.

Nin joined him a second later, her practiced feet barely making any noise as she walked. She was good stuff, good product, trained well. Hans had known bad product, knew bad product, and you could see the difference between dogs who barked and bit. He'd known from the moment he'd seen Nin that he'd get good use out of her.

Victor, on the other hand…

The thug broke out of the jungle with much less grace than his companions, using his hatchet to hack his way through vines and branches. His face was covered in scratches from where the trees had bit at him, and his clothes were darkened with sweat. Hans wondered what that tasted like.

Hans was satisfied with his mysterious sponsor for breaking him out of the fridge, but he wished they'd been more discerning with the others. Nin was great, but Victor… all Victor was good for was brute force and running his mouth.

Not quite bad product, but very nearly.

His eyes slid over to the sight directly in front of them, at the bottom of the mountain. The Supremacy broadcast relay, carrying news and entertainment from the borders all the way back to the homeland. There were thousands of these installations all across the Supremacy, but for their next move -- the public announcement of the true Heir -- they'd just need the one.

Hans smiled to himself. He'd never once doubted that he'd escape that prison. This was because he was the only person that was truly real, and by all rights the universe was organized in a way that would ultimately benefit him. Any event, no matter how seemingly disastrous, was designed by his servant God with him in mind.

His eyes clouded over as he used his ability, scanning the box-shaped building nestled in the jungle below.

Thick walls. Too thick to blast through without using their Armaments. No windows. Limited external ventilation. Air circulated with internal stock. Oxygen purchased from Talder and Sons LLC. Discount for government use. Slightly bigger discount than usual, to encourage repeat custom. Seven guards. Two tired because they were up late last night. Armed with plasma rifles. No Special Officers.

Easy pickings.

Hans' ability was understanding -- he could simply glance at a target and gain a wealth of information about its history and abilities. It worked by enhancing the deductive reasoning any human was capable of, and then letting those parts of his mind work automatically. For him, it was like receiving divine wisdom. It suited him.

He glanced at his two companions, beings who -- like everyone else -- had been created to entertain him, and smiled.

"They're not expecting us," he purred. "But still… I think we should show these cats what we're made of, yeah?"

Victor grinned. That was the kind of stimulus he responded to. Without waiting for another word, he held out his hatchet.

"Fusion Tool," he growled. "Detritus."

Grey Aether shone.

Nin drew something out from her long sleeve. A garrote, silver wire dangling between two handles. She grasped it in both hands, holding the implement out in front of her.

"Fusion Tool," she giggled. "Odette."

Blue Aether blasted.

With a sigh of relief, Hans drew his rapier from the scabbard at his crotch. He ran a finger down its surface, savoring the moment as the Aetheral infernos at his sides illuminated him. The only thing better than having one mysterious sponsor, he reflected, was having two.

Especially when they offered such toys as this.

"Fusion Tool," he breathed. "King of Babel."