The tower was easier to track than Cross thought.

Once the storm had passed it was easy to see that the top of the mountains had suffered greatly from its descent. What should've been a peak far above was a freshly torn canyon ripped right through the mountain they were scaling. As they reached the apex of their side of that canyon, it became obvious the canyon extended through had once been a treacherous mountain range. Rubble was still falling and the occasional spattering of Blackstone debris marred the slopes

The tower had to have hit the mountains full force to carve such a massive gorge into the planet. Yet it must have still been functioning at that point, the entire area would be nothing more than a crater if someone hadn't been at the helm working to ease the impact. Peering over the edge of the canyon, Cross found piles of Blackstone debris littering the empty basin below. Looking along the edge of the canyon, he debated whether following the clear trail was worth being as exposed as they were.

If even one of those Brighthomes decided to search the mountains, their black shells and armor would stand out in the burgeoning daylight.

"You figure out what's wrong with him, yet?"

Cross's thoughts were interrupted by the Newblood, who came to his side and stared at him before nodding to the side. Cross narrowed his eye before looking past him to see Armel crouched at the edge of the canyon a way's from them.

"Who, Armel?" Cross asked, prompting the Newblood to look ahead.

"You're from the Factory like me, right?" the Newblood looked ahead "Snatched up for the mission like most of our fallen allies down in those ruins."

"You too?" Cross tilted his head "Wait, how could you possibly know we're the same? Not to downplay the Shapers design but we aren't really built to stand out from each other, comrade."

"Easy, your speech isn't butchered like those of Formal's retinue." the Newblood looked to him.

That gave Cross pause, as it wasn't something he had focused on too much. Speech was the definitive trait used to identify one Noirite from another, aside from armor type and specialism. Despite the gear of Formal's crew being nearly identical to those at the Factory, Cross had noticed odd verbiage from several of them before Towerfall.

He glanced to Armel just in time to see him walk off the edge of the cliff.

"Sir!?!" The Newblood rushed towards the edge immediately, the brief shock wearing off as Cross followed behind.

They both peered over the edge to see Armel standing against the rock face below them, his greaves pulsating with a dark aura as he walked along the wall and raised a hand to peer further ahead.

"You two stay put a sec." he pointed back to them before grinning and continuing forward "Gonna get some scoutin' in."

They watched him for a moment before the Newblood grumbled and pulled away.

“Wall walking…” the Newblood sighed as he hefted his Caster “Guess we don’t have to worry about that one falling.”

Cross pulled away from the canyon and followed him to the slope facing the Blackstone Ruins

“Why bother worrying about a fall?” he asked as he peered down at the clouds below them “The only danger to a Noirite is a Blanken. He’d be fine taking that drop head-first.”

“It just doesn't make sense, comrade” The Newblood shook his head “This whole mission, breaking into Perignassi's quadrant. To slip past a Bishop like him requires cunning, skill. Yet our Bishops sent a crew of Pawns that can barely string two proper words together.”

“Captain Formal speaks like them." Cross shrugged "And I hear he's got the best record of any Knight in these quadrants, never failed a mission."

“A knight's retinue is supposed to take after them.” the Newblood approached, mimicking Cross and crouching low “If all of Formal's crew is like Armel, then I can't help but wonder about his true capability."

"Doubt the Bishops would've called on him for this if it wasn't true." Cross shrugged before raising a hand and beckoning the Newblood to his side.

“Tell me, do you see any Blanken?” he asked as the clouds briefly cleared.

Even with the storm gone, he couldn’t see the Blanken among the blackstone ruins below. He wasn’t sure if it was because they’d ascended so much or if the Blanken had scattered to pursue the fleeing Noirites, but all that he could see were the Brighthomes. Those cloud-bound vessels had spread away from each other, floating towards the outskirts of the ruins.

But none were heading in their direction, towards the mountains. Cross had occasionally checked behind them during their ascent, keeping watch for the Blanken who had been drawn by the Blacklight Caster, but saw no sign of pursuers.

“Nothing.” The Newblood said, drumming his fingers along the edge of the cliff “Doesn’t mean we let our guard down, they could start searching the mountains at any time now.”

“Right...” Cross pushed himself up and glanced back towards the canyon “You know, I think you're the first Pawn I've ever heard talk down a Knight. Most Noirites at the Factory speak like they're demigods or something.”

“Compared to Pawns like us, they might as well be." the Newblood stood and turned to him "But they're not all powerful, not like the Sovereigns. Formal's perfect record just means he's got more to lose if he fails, right?"

Cross didn’t have an answer for that, Captain Formal was the first Knight he’d actually met face-to-face. Before him, everything he’d heard about them was a mix of hearsay and what he’d been born knowing.

They were supposed to be Pawns who’d earned weaponry and gear through grand achievements. They could turn battles with their very presence, and there were numerous wild stories from older Pawns that completely clashed with the straightforward understanding that Cross's shaper built him with.

They led by example, that was all Cross needed to know.

“I suppose, not really sure if we even can salvage the mission at this point.” Cross suggested with a shrug.

“Without a tower to move the cargo? Definitely not” the Newblood held his caster to his back “Maybe if enough of the tower survived we could get a report to the Bishops, but I've no clue how any of them plan to haul our cargo all the way to Paradise without a large enough vessel."

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“Maybe we could fix the tower? Certainly enough Blackstone around to at least get it airborn.” Cross suggested, watching as the Caster gained a black aura before attaching itself to the back of the Newblood’s armor “We'd have to mount a defense against Brighthomes while we do it, but maybe more of those Blacklight Casters survived."

The Newblood paused at that, rubbing his fingers for a moment before reaching up and pulling off his helmet. The Newblood reached up to massage the area around his eye. Cross couldn’t figure out why, none of their shells were prone to irritation and the Newblood didn’t even have any rough patching around it.

“You’re not scared of death, are you?” Cross asked, narrowing his eye at the Newblood “Even if we die, our bodies and blood will be recycled eventually.”

“I know, but I wanted to at least earn a Name before then.” The Newblood grumbled before staring down at his helmet “You don’t understand.”

“We were both on guard duty in the same factory.” Cross stated, only for the Newblood to wave him off.

“Armel said you have a strong shell. For most of us, a few deep gashes are all it takes to bleed us dry.” The Newblood tossed his helmet into the air before catching it “I’m all about dying for the King, but I’d prefer it be in the midst of a massive battlefield. Not hunted like scurrying runts on this… what even is this place?”

“Enemy territory.” Armel’s voice made both of them spin to see him pulling himself up from the canyon “That’s all ya need to know, Comrade, and ya best lose that glory-lust. As long as you’s dyin’ for the King, you’re dyin’ well.”

The Newblood murmured but stayed silent as Armel stood tall and nodded towards them.

“We’s takin’ another route,” he said before walking past them “The whole gash looks fit to cave in on itself. Tower tore through a whole load o’ mountains by the looks of it, so we’s got some trekkin’ to do, comrades.”

So trek they did, making their way part way down the mountain before turning and travelling along its other side. The slopes were not steep, merely uneven and littered with rocks and shrubbery. The sun came up fully, giving them a perfect overview of the grasslands near the mountain range, but the Brighthomes had only then expanded their search beyond the blackstone ruins.

Every so often the Newblood would pause to pull off the curled leaves of green shrubs that would keep curling around their legs. Cross didn’t see a point to it as the greenery didn’t have a chance of slowing them down, each time the leaves would just tear from their roots as they moved.

And it seemed Armel agreed.

“Gettin’ feisty with that stuff, eh?” he noted whilst chipping away at a piece of blackstone with his fingers “Thought you boys would like it more, never seen mortals before, right?”

“It’s a change of scenery,” The Newblood looked over the torn plant in his grasp before tossing it down the mountainside “though not one I’d call preferable.”

“I’ve heard of it, but the mission takes priority unless it becomes a problem.” Cross shrugged “The mud was annoying, but not a problem.”

“You newbloods best enjoy it while ya can.” Armel waved a hand back towards them as they began ascending again “Lively worlds like this are rare, and usually under watch. Lucky we crashed somewhere the kiddies were stupid enough to overlook.”

Cross would’ve preferred if they hadn’t crashed at all, but complaining wouldn’t resolve their situation.

Eventually they rounded back around to the canyon and found a ridge beyond that lined the edge of the canyon. Only after peaking over that ridge were they able to truly evaluate the damage the tower had left. The canyon beyond the torn mountain stretched through the entire mountain range, with piles of rock and debris filling the deep crevasse in several places.

“Tower should be at the end of this.” Armel pointed along the canyon, east of the ruins, before looking back towards Cross and the Newblood “Let’s not the keep the captain waiting.”

“But what about the Cargo?” the Newblood asked as they followed him down the ridge “There’s no telling if the captain survived the fall, so we-!”

“No sissy little Patrol Fleet's bestin' Captain Formal, Newblood.” Armel waved him off before raising a finger “And I’d feel far better about fixin' all this with him backin’ us up.”

Yet again, more talk about the capabilities of knights. Cross had seen Formal before and, despite recognizing that he had far more equipment than any Pawn that he’d seen before, he wasn’t exactly certain how a single individual was supposed to even the situation out for them. Even a fleet the size of the one that had caught them was a threat considering how purposefully under-equipped they’d been for the mission.

The cargo should’ve been their priority, but Cross wasn’t about to underestimate Armel’s experience.

“One more, brother.”

All three of them went still at that. They turned towards a large, jagged boulder that had wedged itself into the side of the cliff up ahead.

“Hush!” another voice in thought speak, making Armel turn back to them before holding a finger to his mouth and moving up.

The very tip of that boulder had a trail of black ichor leading directly to the edge. Beside that trail stood a heavily armored Blanken, greaves tightly clutching a massive Pearlglass broadsword that was dripping with ichor.

The source of the ichor became clear as another Blanken dragged a struggling, bleeding Noirite towards the blade bearer. His movements were sloppy and weak, growing jerkier the more his own ichor joined the trail.

Behind those two was a third Blanken with a Blessed Blaster who was making a concerted effort not to step in the ichor as he walked.

“Calm yourself servant.” The Blade wielder spoke as the Noirite was held over the edge “This Crusader of the white mother shall free you soon enough.”

“Better cut deep, pale filth.” The Noirite grunted, occasionally struggling against his captors “If I don’t bleed out, I’m mountin’ ya cap on my shoulder when I find ya.”

“Good advice I intend to follow, friend.” the Crusader nodded before adjusting his helmet and rearing back with the broadsword.

Before it came down, an arc of purple energy slammed into the Blaster Blanken’s head and sent him stumbling towards the edge. The others went still for a moment, just long enough for the Noirite to ram his head into his captor’s jaw and stumble to his feet. They both slammed into the Blaster Blanken sending her flailing off the cliff as they crashed to the ground beside the edge

The Crusader spun around to see Cross and Armel racing down the ridge towards them. But his gaze snapped up towards the glow of purple from the ridge behind them, and he quickly leaped to the side as another purple arc blasted the ground beside him. The entire cliff shook from the blast, but Armel and Cross didn’t slow down.

That changed when the crusader stood tall and swung his massive blade their way. Cross dug his heels in and slowed down, but Armel threw himself under the swinging arc of the sword and scrambled towards the Noirite and the Blanken at the Cliffs edge. The Crusader glanced back towards him briefly, but his eye snapped back towards Cross just as he leaped forward with his baton.

He was certain he’d gotten through the effective range of the sword, but hadn’t been ready for the Blanken’s hand to shoot forward and lock around his throat before dragging him close. The Blanken rammed his helmet into Cross’s mouth, breaking teeth and splitting open his face in a spray of ichor before throwing him back. Cross’s back slammed into the ground, but his gaze quickly locked on the blade raising above him.

He rolled to the side as the blade cleaved into the ground, struggling to his feet before the next swing only for another purple arc to slam into the Crusader’s side. It tore into the side of his cuirass, vitae spewing out as he struggled to maintain his stance.

But Cross wasn’t going to waste the chance, immediately flinging himself at the Crusader and forcing him back with his weight. He fell atop him, and frantically swung his baton into his helmet over and over, forcing back the frantic hands that fought against him.

Eventually, the Blanken stopped struggling as more of his blood flowed free. Cross didn’t stop until the gray began spreading, slowing down only when he was straddling nothing more than an empty pearlglass statue.

“Wait wait!” the voice of the captive made Cross look up, just in time to see him prying the head of his captor off their shoulders right before their body went gray “Ahh, perfect.”

The Captive Noirite admired the severed Blanken head briefly before turning to Armel.

“Cheatin’ death again, eh Armless?” he mused before setting the head aside and working to stifle his bleeding.

“Same as always, Comrade.” Armel kneeled beside him, offering pieces of Blackstone as his smile fell away “Now please say ya got some good news for me.”