The Sky-docks were a sprawling complex of towers, walkways, cranes, and constantly-moving fleets of large and small skiffs. The Aegis was easily the largest ship currently occupying the place, but there were easily half a dozen smaller vessels there beside it, in varying stages of repair and new-construction.

Furion was the first of the Fafnir-duo to dive under their home-ship and see the state of it’s ultimate fate, “Looks like it’s going to get refurbished.” He said, and glanced back at Ren, who was around 20ft behind, “That’s a relief, right?”

“Yeah.” She answered, “Papa will be happy to hear about it.”

“…Not you?” Furion was perplexed.

“…I have mixed feelings, looking at it in this condition.” She explained, and flipped over backward to face the gutted underside of the massive ship, “I know Lord Rylen is the one who repeatedly pulled the trigger, but part of me feels like this could’ve been avoided.”

“Well, let’s just get in there. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”

Ren watched as Furion climbed again, heading for the rear hangars, and she followed after him. There was a definitive sense of melancholy as the two of them landed, and bypassed the docking-pods to head into the ship with their armor still on.

When the fast-travel chutes let them out into the main part of the SkyFortress, Furion turned and pulled his helmet off, shaking his hair out to make it look normal again, “Just hang out here in the concourse for a little while. I’ll be back soon.”

“…I’m not coming with you?”

“You’re carrying a pair of eyes that don’t need to know what my plans are to get rid of it. Don’t need it getting ideas about how to avoid it.” He answered.

“Oh. Okay.”

The Captain glided away and out of sight, and Ren just stared at the abandoned multi-level mid-body lobby of the massive ship. She could hear the sound of construction through the walls, but for the most part, it was relatively quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she made her way to the residential floors, and more specifically, to her own room. The door opened, and she stepped through, seeing everything exactly where she’d left it…including the mess.

A flutter went through her chest as she spotted the nest of blankets still splayed over her couch, then a deep sense of guilt and regret. She sighed and stepped out of her armor, and reached to grab the first of the blankets…only to pause, and stare into that corner-section. Her brow crinkled slightly as the memory of that clandestine day played before her mind’s eye, and with a reticent groan, dropped into the cushions.

With a few minutes to kill, she closed her eyes, clutching the blanket to her chest, …Scyrexian, if you’re listening to every word I say and know every thought I have, then you’ve got to know how much of a pain in my ass you are, she thought grimly. There wasn’t an answer though; if it could respond, it was choosing not to. Ren squished the blanket to the lower half of her face, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, then abruptly pushed to sit up. She sent out a call to her partner, “…Should we go to the Dawn of Ages?”

“Sure. Which one?” Furion answered, rifling through the Aegis’ tech-inventory.

“The one in Trazad. Gabe’s gonna be there.”

The Captain quirked a brow, “I thought we agreed you shouldn’t go near him.”

“…Lord Xanarken said that it might be the last chance I have to talk to him though. He at least deserves to know I’m not trying to mean...” Ren countered, “He’s supposed to go into the Eidolon System after that.”

“He’s going to be using a mantle, not getting launched into low-orbit.” Furion puffed, “It’s not like you’ll never be able to talk to him again. Playing keep-away is as much for his safety as it is yours.”

“Maybe Lord Xanarken meant that I should explain myself to Gabe’s face though… So I can see how he really feels, not the curated rubber-face he’ll be able to pull once he’s in.”

“Lord Xanarken doesn’t know that you’re harboring an existential threat to Lord Gabriel’s continued state of being alive.” Furion retorted, “Unless you mentioned it to him and didn’t mention that part to me?”

“No…”

“Well, then there you go. He’s operating from a perspective that lacks key insight. Do you really think he’d suggest being around the guy if he knew?”

“…No…”

“Mhm…”

Ren groaned and disconnected the call again, “I hate this…” She looked even more annoyed when Furion called her right back, and she answered with her face buried in the comforter, “What is it?”

“You cut off before I could mention it…but I have our first target.” He explained, and bagged the item he was after, then hooked the pack over his left wing-arm and shoulder, “She’s the Council’s 9th in the Top 10, and was last-sighted in the Exclusion Zone’s north-eastern region. She’s known for high-stakes burglaries and at least two murders, with an affliction that effectively makes her a Lycanthrope. No ranged capabilities, no mind-fucking…just plain old physical transformation. She’s perfect.”

“…Yeah…perfect.” Ren muttered quietly, “Right up until the moment Scyrexian takes that power and turns into a goddamn dragon or something…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’m sure it’s fine. Are you done?”

.

Regulus hovered over the far western edge of the beachfront of Oceanside’s administrative district. With Kourin’s glasses still settled in front of his eyes, a little green marker on his sights guided him closer and closer to the nearest marker. Sand and seafoam whipped around beneath the anti-gravity drive, and the Magistrate closed-in on the target. He sought through crags and ragged stone for anything obvious, and soon spotted a little cave high up on an outcrop of wave-lashed hillside.

A thousand years ago, the waves were rougher and breached the land higher, but now, that spot was a relatively dry-patch, bleached by the rising western sun. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but as Regulus idled his Sovereign Shadow close to the rock, he got a better look…and spotted – what appeared to be – some rather smooth, round boulders.

But they weren’t boulders at all. They weren’t even eggs. They were nanotech canisters, even if they looked rather different from the trio that Regulus already had in his possession. Unlike the flat-bottomed sphered he had in his office, these were more like ovals, about a foot and a half tall, with slits down the front where nanotech could escape or return. Regulus reached into the crack and grabbed one, looked it over with fascination, and tossed it to the shallow tide some 10ft below. He then grabbed the other, and the third, before hopping down to join them. The target-marks on the borrowed lenses highlighted the cluster, and with a bit of maneuvering, he could see the little green light on the front of each was on; it was difficult to see in the bright sunlight.

With a huff and a smirk, Regulus shook his head, and re-mounted his warmachine. He hovered down closer to the ground, jumped back out again, tossed the canisters up into the cockpit, and then went in a third time. The next-nearest target was north from there, around 700 meters away…and it perplexed the Magistrate that it appeared to be coming from inside the palace.

Curiosity became concern, and he quickly made his way forward. He went in through one of the sunrise-facing terraces, and wandered the twisting halls of the residence. Gothic pillars stood between tall, narrow, arched windows; sconces were dimmed where sunlight poured through. It was a bit of a challenge to find a way through to the next clusters of nanotech containers, especially as the verticality of the marker indicated he’d have to go up to the next floor.

Soon, however, he found himself standing outside Latheroux’s chambers. Given the man was in a prison-cell below the palace, Regulus had no qualms about going in unannounced. Strangely, the space looked barely-lived-in. The bed was immaculately-made, as though it had never been laid in. The night-stand didn’t so much as have a water-stain on it from a glass. The Magistrate was just snooping at that point, and pulled open the massive wooden shrank, finding nothing but empty drawers and cabinet-spaces. The bathroom was even worse…it had nothing in it at all, not even a shower curtain for that massive ceramic tub.

Housekeeping couldn’t have been this thorough…it doesn’t even look like they’ve ever been here. There’s dust everywhere, he thought.

It was finally time to seek the target through, and it led through the doors of the large walk-in closet on the other side of the room. At first, the space looked as normal as one could expect…for a space never used by a living human being. There were no changes of clothes, no shoes, no personal effects stored-away…it was just empty, save for the wooden trunk pushed into the near corner.

And that’s what the guide-marker was indicating on.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Steady hands immediately looked to pull the chest open, but it was locked tight. Fingers traced the edges, seeking for a latch or other mechanism, but it was clamped tight. There were, as he noticed, holes in the sides – slits for hand-holds – and when the Magistrate used them to heft the case up off the floor, it rattled with the unmistakable sound and thumping of two large metal containers.

He immediately carried the chest outside and into the courtyard at the back of the residence, on the terrace where he’d parked his mech. Once again, he hopped inside, but this time, instead of flying-off with yet another curiosity, he hovered overtop of the trunk and grabbed it with the mech’s small lower arms. It was nothing to twist the wooden case into pieces, and out fell the nanotech canisters he expected to find. These were similar-enough to the egg-shaped trio he already had, but were perhaps a different model in the same generation.

This gods-damned liar…he’s an Eidolon, isn’t he? All this time, posing as a Sargonian to get close to the royal family… Manipulating the Duke to turn against Far’nah… Regulus sneered and grit his teeth, But which one…? …Or could it be an underling? If they’re making any peasant into an Eidolon now, maybe this one is just a spy working directly for Council leadership…

With a look at the markers on the lenses again, the next-closest location popped into prominence. He blinked hard and focused, realizing he could, in fact, see multiple smaller green dots, though they were easy miss where they blended into the background. With a few finger-taps, each of the smaller indicators came up and grew larger, and to Regulus’ astonishment…there were easily 30 more, all at varying nearby – and farther afield – ranges. One was so far away, it looked to be clear across the country, sitting in the border-mountains with Sargon.

His first thought was to pull up a map and try to integrate the distances with direction, but just as he was about to do so, he could feel his FlexiGlas communicator buzz in his pocket. He withdrew it and expanded the screen, and saw that it was an announcement straight from the Duchy; the Conclave of Magistrates was being summoned for an emergency meeting.

I need to find the rest of these before Latheroux notices they’ve been moved. He may yet be skulking-around the palace while he pretends to be locked-away, Regulus thought, and sent out a call to his local receptionist. When the line was answered, he put out a simple directive, “Get me a meeting with Oceanside’s fastest couriers. People who can be discrete.”

“Sir?”

“I want them in my office in two hours.”

“Y-Yessir, right away.”

.

Waiting for things to happen was the worst part about international negotiations. Kitez and Sargon were Gabriel’s only responsibility, and the Emperor had decided to take this next step on his own, which meant the Vice Eidolon was suddenly in possession of an overabundance of free time.

And that meant he had an opportunity to continue practicing with his affliction.

Multiple sessions had gone by with incremental progress, and certain aspects of his power were now getting far easier. With his eyes lit-up and ponytail hovering behind his back, his hand reached out for a small flower-vase on a dresser at the far side of his borrowed apartment. He lifted it up as if he was standing there in front of it, and had it in his physical grasp, though the only thing that gave away the fact that he did have it was the subtle purple arc of electric-like lines that surrounded the porcelain. He focused hard, light-emanating eyes narrowing.

Come here… He thought adamantly, I know I can do more than pick the damn thing up… Bring it closer…

The best he’d been able to do to that point was maneuver the target object around within the confines of arm’s reach, even if it was on the other side of the room. If he pulled his hand closer, the object would move towards him, but only by whatever 3-5 feet he could reach around himself. He closed his eyes entirely and tried to envision the thin vase being in his hand – physically in his hand, where he stood near the door – but when he opened them again, it still merely hovered in the air by the dresser, as it already did.

The ‘mirroring’ was starting to get on his nerves…and Ren’s words came back to his mind.

“I’m still trying to parse it all, but…I think that you can connect two different physical locations together. Or distinguish them from one another. The fact that you don’t have to be touching those locations yourself is a big part of that theory.” She had said in that training room; it felt like an eternity ago then, “Now…again; try to take hold of my hand. Just…focus. Don’t worry that you’ll get spooked and hurt me by mistake. …If you don’t trust yourself, then trust me. I’ll tell you what I’m feeling as you figure it out…”

I could really use your help right now, Ren. I’d give anything to talk to you right now, Gabriel grumbled, brow winkled beneath those wing-like bangs. With a frustrated sigh, he shook his head and released the effect…

…and immediately banged his left knee into a brass drawer-handle.

He yelped and tried to take a surprised step back, only to find his right foot refuse to move, and he fell backwards. Everything was confusing, and half of it was painful, but one thing that was definite was the sound of the thin flower-vase smashing to pieces as it hit the ground beside him. Gabriel laid there on his back, utterly perplexed, but as he shook his head and regained his bearings, his first thought was towards why his right leg seemed stuck.

The dresser was right in front of him, looming where he looked at it from the floor. His left knee stung and throbbed where he’d jammed it into the knob. …And the heel of his right boot…was fused with the floor.

“…What in the actual Hell…?”

He had to wrench his leg free just so he could turn around, and when he did, he was on his hands and knees, staring at the boot like he didn’t know what a boot was anymore. He pulled and pried at it, but nothing he did would get it free. Even the carpet was embedded, like the boot had been built into the flooring from the start.

“…Man, the Emperor’s not going to be happy with this.” Gabriel said to himself, and sat back on his knees, hands on his lap as he continued to stare. He scratched the back of his head, but then realized…he’d somehow covered 20ft of distance without moving. He turned back around to look at the door, then back at the boot, then at the dresser, and finally, at the broken vase on his right, “…I wanted to bring the vase to me, but did I just…go to the vase instead?”

A knock rapped on the door, “Lord Gabriel, are you alright in there?”

“I’m fine! Everything is super-fine, thank you!” He answered frantically, and started scooping-up the broken ceramics with the sides of his hands. He pulled it all into a small pile, only to stop and really look at it. Bicolored eyes narrowed again, and he spoke quietly, “How did I pull it off, though? I’m still not even sure what I did when I yanked the glass forward at my place, and now this? Full on freaking teleporting across a room? Should I tell Seth about this…? No, no…Rylen never wanted me learning how to use my shit all this time, it would just make things harder on Seth if I dragged him into this… Damnit… I really need to figure out what I did wrong and get back on Ren’s good side…”

He sat back and crossed his arms, and thought really hard about what to do next. He decided to try one more time to reach out to his former trainee, Please pick up the damn call…

[User unavailable. Please try again later.]

“Unavailable?” Gabriel said aloud in disbelief, “What the crap is she doing? It’s not even quiet-time hours and she’s already turned her tech off?”

[Would you like to leave a message?]

He drew a deep breath, and sighed grimly as he responded in the affirmative, “…Uh…hey, Ren, sorry if it’s a bad time. I’m still not sure what happened between us? I could really use your help though. I’ve been working on my…um…special skills? Since you told me I should try, and I’ve been keeping up with the lessons, and you’d probably be really interested to know what’s just happened. Call me back? If you can’t, I understand, I just…I’m really confused and hurt, and all that? Sorry if this sounds like whining. If it's cuz I was your superior or something then it’s fine, it’d just be nice to know… Anyway, I’ll be in Trazad for the next while. For the Dawn of Ages and stuff. The Emperor’s doing a bunch of things on his own so I’ve got a lot of free time all of a sudden. Okay…uh…bye then. Hope to hear back.”

The message was ended, and Gabriel rolled to his back. For a few moments, he started at the elaborately-paneled ceiling, and finally lifted his right leg straight into the air. He wiggled his toes within his sock, and the continued lack of a boot there just mystified him. He let out a loud and annoyed grunt as he flailed and threw his arms out above his head, and pouted in the quiet of the room, “What did I do!?” He whined, only to suddenly feel all the blood drain from his face, “Holy shit, if I was off by just two inches, that could’ve been my whole foot stuck in the floor. That was so close!”

.

All the Magistrates entered into the throne room and took their seats at the meeting-table under the pergola. There was an air of tension as the bunch of them looked at one another, and to the Duchess, who looked back at them with a bit of impatience. She stood up before the final Magistrate was even at their seat, and immediately went to the point, “The Emperor wants to make an exchange.” She declared loudly, and stepped down to the main floor, crossing over the glass-covered water-channels to stand in that central circle, “To put it plainly, he wants Mardu.”

Murmurs rose from all sides. Regulus looked unsurprised. Tallus narrowed his eyes slightly. The empty seats of the missing Magistrates seemed all the more prominent, since those present knew their absent occupants were in the same hall as the aforementioned Duke.

“I had the same feeling.” Far’nah crossed her arms, “But Iresha is not known for making offers lightly. What could he possibly offer us in exchange for someone as valuable as my husband?”

“There’s nothing!” Was the general consensus. No one had even bothered mentioning the Luminary blockade.

If the Emperor is throwing his hat into this ring, then he must’ve been made aware of Mardu’s circumstance, Tallus thought stiffly, Was this part of the plan? …What am I supposed to do; let them say no? Are we going forward with the secret extradition? Damnit! I wasn’t told this was going to happen!

“There is one thing…” Far’nah contemplated, and the room went eerily quiet, “The Younger Iresha.”

At least one of the Magistrates had reservations about that, “…He’s in Agartha though. The Emperor has already traded him for Council protection.”

“A cow traded once can be traded again.”

More murmurs.

Tallus swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, and made his decision, “…We have to send Mardu to Sargon.”

Everyone at the meeting except Far’nah turned to look straight at the man, and were quickly shocked to see those eyes flare with golden light. Regulus had his arm up with the instinct to shoot, but in that meeting room, his weapons had been confiscated, and he was left with the bare sleeve of his uniform. All he could do was look on helplessly as that aura of golden light rose and expanded out like so many tails of glowing smoke.

It took only a few seconds for the miasma to link to everyone in the room – and though Tallus struggled with connecting to so many people at once, he persevered. He half-collapsed against the table before him as he forced himself to speak, “We’re…sending Mardu to…Sargon… We will…accept whatever the…the Emperor offers in return… And we will do so gl-gladly…”

“We will…send Mardu to the Emperor.” The room echoed, irises illuminated where that golden affect sunk into each of those new victims.

Far’nah looked around the room curiously, but she never turned towards Tallus’ side. To her eyes, the man wasn’t even there. She just seemed keen on the unanimous agreement, “Then it’s settled.” She clapped her hands together, “I’ll tell Iresha that we agreed to the talk. He can have his pawn, and we’ll soon have ours.”

Tallus collapsed back into his seat; his eyes quickly went back to normal, and he heaved for breath. The Magistrates around him all glanced around in brief confusion, but then redoubled their efforts towards their Duchess. As Far’nah left the room to head for her antechamber, Tallus leaned forward to clasp the edge of the table and used it to support himself as he rose back to his feet, I hope you’re ready for this…