Chapter 12: Networking

If there was anything being in the Valkyries had taught Nyx, it was that information was power. Mimi had become quite proficient at it recently, from what Nyx had seen, though most of the credit could be attributed to her little savant, Reina.

She was much less talkative before. Guess Mimi broke her out of her shell somehow, Nyx thought.

At this rate, Nyx wouldn’t have been surprised if Reina was Mimi’s Daimyo from a purely utilitarian standpoint, though Mimi never mentioned who her own Daimyo was. Another one of her many secrets.

Border security to New Celebrant was not as strict as security into Necronova. For one, this district was known for its open-arms policy towards refugees arriving from other districts, as determined by the cardinals of the Clan of Voices, who were the main political force in this district. Those who lost family members to the hunt, Fringe war orphans, and any persons who seek solace in the religious extolment of the Enthipids were all welcome here, and encouraged to partake in the churches to help absolve themselves of regret and sin.

Crime in the district also remained surprisingly scarce due to the presence of the Hunter Division known as the Paladins, led by the Shogun Taysa Polaris. Those who end up violating the rules of the district were more likely to be marked for the hunt by local Auditors than other districts, and Taysa’s famed fervor against stamping out the ashes of conflict has gained her a fearful reputation that has dissuaded most ruffians and vagabonds from causing trouble, especially with her reputation as both a member of the Clan of Voices and the Clan of Venerers, a rarity amongst the Clans.

If there was a first impression that New Celebrant gave to its visitors, it was that the buildings here were mostly bright white – an angelic city to say the least. Shiny exteriors of faux radiance dominated the atmosphere of this once humble district, and now, with the clean streets, robed clergymen walking occasionally down the road with devout followers, and the strange humming which seemed to radiate from the walls of the buildings, Nyx couldn’t help but feel impressed at sheer pompousness of it all. And yet…

Nyx looked over at the monastic chapels which scattered around the various street corners of the district. Even from a distance, tall bell towers clad in raven colored metal covered the walls of the chapels – a testament to the clergy’s devotion over their deified Enthipids. It contrasted heavily against the other buildings surrounding it, highlighting its importance. These chapels, unlike the rest of the city, were constructed using Enthipid carapaces, a unique application of Bastion metal not seen in any other district. The Clan of Voices claim that those of the true faith could hear the voices of enlightenment from within the walls of the chapels. Though Nyx didn’t buy the reasoning, she didn’t rule out the possibility, because she suspected such “voices” might have been attributed to the works of something else – the Madness of the Inners.

She pushed her thoughts aside for now and pulled up a hood, placing a mask on her face, attempting to look the vagrant. There are those scavengers who venture into the waste for resources and come back into the city who look like her right now. No one really stops them, because no one really cares, and those who venture out don’t often have a choice. The poor man’s privilege, as some in the underground call them, because these “divers” of the waste face little to no acknowledgment, even amongst the Lost Clans, whose jurisdiction technically encompass such individuals. Though she blended well with the crowd next to her, walking through the district gates, a guard spotted her on the way in and called out to her, “Halt!” he said.

Nyx froze. The guard singled her out amongst the wave of people. What was going on? She looked to the guard, putting on her most cordial voice, “Is there a problem officer?” The guard looked at her for a moment and spoke, “You’re looking for Euphony’s Chapel down by the plateau East from here. Just hug the wall on the left side and look for the three towers which mark the great Chapel. You won’t miss it. They take divers like you as refugees and will help you get acquainted with district customs. You’re free to check the district out afterwards, but I ask that you get your papers sorted out there first so there aren’t any problems with the local patrols later. They do periodically scan your ID chips.”

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He was friendly. The guard didn’t ask for her name at all, though Nyx wasn’t too worried. Reina said her ID had been tweaked a bit to allow Nyx to bypass the security of the district under the false identity of Bridget Doe, though this chip would only function in areas where Reina had an direct open signal to the chip. Where the signal was dead, Reina’s code bypassing the Auditor’s communications line would cease to transmit remotely and Nyx would find herself in a bit of trouble should she need to access any local terminals, or if a local patrol comes by to ID her.

The guard thought about it for a moment and decided to scan Nyx’s ID chip anyways. “Sorry, I normally give refugees the benefit of the doubt, but since I have you here, I might as well do my job.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Nyx said, in the best empathetic voice she could muster. “I understand what it means to meet the obligations of others.” A bit of truth in there, and the officer nodded in understanding.

“Bridget Doe, looks like you’re good. Have a good day, miss,” he replied, tipping his officer’s hat to her. She smiled and began walking down the streets towards direction of Euphony’s Chapel.

Across the street from her, two men were watching the borders carefully. One man, clad in dark gray, with a red sash across his waist, commented on the scene he just saw.

“This city’s been getting pretty packed lately. With the influx of outsiders coming in, it’ll be harder and harder for us to keep an eye out for the Valkyrie members walking through the gate. That, or any Clan members, though I doubt any notable member would ever show up in a district that worships the very thing they hate.”

The man, Imad Wren, was a scout for the Revenant’s Forge. One of the few members who stuck around when the Divisions was still known as the Revenant’s Balance, he had never liked their previous leader, and jumped ship when the Trepidor brothers took reign, even killing one of his old “friends” in the process. It hurt to do what he did, but not that much…not as much as it should have been.

The man beside Imad looked at him through a rusted Bastion mask, insectoid in appearance. Draped in a burnous, a hood over his head, he looked much the refugee himself. The man didn’t comment on Imad’s statement, but instead kept his eyes tracked on the hooded woman walking away from the border guard.

“Does that woman look familiar to you?” the man said, cutting Imad off, pointing a twig-like finger at Nyx.

Imad looked at the hooded figure, whose body disappeared behind the Inn around the corner.

“Not sure, Yora. Looks like another vagrant to me,” Imad replied honestly. “Why? You know her?”

“Perhaps not.” Yora Malikova said. “I don’t think I’ve seen her face before, but she feels familiar somehow.”

“Well, if you’re that worried, I can check her out for you. Just keep watch here okay and let me know if the boss needs anything later,” Imad added.

Yora nodded. Yora was one of the newer additions to Cadmi’s group. Imad didn’t know him too well, as Yora tended to keep to himself, but he was often paired with him on scouting missions and found him to be a fairly reliable fighter. Apparently, the Trepidor brothers knew of him prior to starting the Revenant’s Forge and wouldn’t comment on him when asked, stating no more then the fact that he was a member of the Lost Clans.

Imad felt that their Division was being held together by plywood and tape, attributing their continued coherence as a team to a mix of their fear of Cadmi as a leader, reluctance to return to their earlier lifestyles, and convenience.

Did most Divisions face similar grievances? he thought. Such contrivances mattered little, however. Personal trust was a rare commodity, but professional trust – at least that still existed in some form or another. Yora trusted him enough to monitor this strange woman whose face now hid, shadowed under the brilliant sunlight. As he moved up the slope of the district towards the direction the woman was heading, he wondered how the others were doing.