“Absolutely nothing. Can’t find a trace of her in any of our record books, and primal Issi doesn’t exist as far as I’m aware.” Wix reached into his suit, then slid a small folded square of paper to Hoalt. “The closest thing I could find was a report from long before my time about rumors of a primal spring manifesting, which would fit with primal Issi, but that’s it. And the spring that existed back then’s ten or so before the one that’s now close-ish to Resthollow, so I really doubt that’s her.”
Vault leaned in with great interest. “Is there any chance that a primal spring could manifest in less than twenty years? I know it took me almost two centuries to manifest, but maybe a spring is a special case?”
“We have nothing to compare her to, so there is a possibility.” Hoalt admitted as he read over the report Wix had dug up. It was a simple recounting from centuries ago; a well traveled practitioner stepped into a primal spring, found a manifestation whose Issi didn’t feel like anything they’d ever felt before, and left. “There is also the possibility that Y’talla is something else entirely. Until we have a solid theory, I’m leaving them in your hands, Shar. You have permission to ascend with Elach.”
“Thank you, emperor.” Shar said with a shallow bow. “Shall I keep up the facade, or show him the truth?”
“Keep the facade.” Hoalt ordered. “You may only break it if keeping it would bring irreparable harm to you, Elach and his companions, or Prisoner’s group should you find yourself united with them.”
“That’s fine and all, but we need to get to the meat of this meeting.” Novia cut in, placing his palm down on the table. A lattice of golden threads spun out from the table, knitting together to form a model of a destroyed room. “One of yer safe houses in the lower city got ransacked a couple ’a nights ago. The same one that we lost two and a half days of records from, and the one our problem pillar overseer Llora came through.”
Hoalt studied the scene, but there wasn’t much left to discern anything from. The bookstore disguise had been reduced to rubble; support beams and stones slewn across the frozen moment in time making it near impossible to determine what the ruins had once been. “Who was stationed at this checkpoint?”
“That’s the problem. We don’t have any records of that, either.” Vault said. “I know I made sure each and every checkpoint was hidden and well-staffed, but I don’t remember doing anything for this one. And yet we have constant reports going back almost ten years, but they aren’t signed and I can’t feel any kind of Issi signature from any of them.”
“Forgeries?” Hoalt said, grimacing as the implications ran rampant through his mind.
Vault nodded grimly. “Which means we don’t just have a pillar and checkpoint problem; someone snuck those reports in, which means they had access to our mansion. And we have no idea who put them there or when they showed up.”
“Isn’t it pretty obvious that it’s Llora?” Occa suggested, her voice muffled by the table under her face. “Everything points to her; she came in through the fake connection point and got infected with fake Hoalt’s Issi, so why don’t we go interrogate her?”
“Because she’s impossible for us to reach.” Wix sighed. “You know how the pillar works, and she’s in charge of a floor that’s far beneath where any of us have access to. Except for Shar, of course.” Wix gestured at Shar, who nodded. “Hoalt’s already sent Prisoner up there, and he’s more paranoid about this than we are. If there’s even a trace of corruption on our friend, he’ll bring them to us without a second thought.”
“Or he’ll put them in the ground.” Novia huffed. “You willing to take that risk, emperor?”
Hoalt grimaced internally, but kept his face clear of any emotion. He wasn’t willing to take the risk; this could be the match that lights the powder keg that was his city. But he didn’t have any other options. The pillar’s failsafes were sacred, and the breaking of them would cause irreparable harm to his reputation. But what was worth more; the city, and all of its inhabitants, or his reputation?
He didn’t deliberate for a moment. “Wix. When you leave, instruct Runfree to gather the manifestations. Inform them of everything that’s brewing, and have them search the city for any connection points that might have formed without our knowledge. If they find anything suspicious, inform me and I’ll investigate it myself. We can’t risk any deprivation Issi slipping through the cracks.”
“Understood.” Wix said with a bow. “Am I dismissed?”
“You are dismissed.” Hoalt decreed, a golden circle appearing behind Wix’s chair. He rose and stood in the circle, saluting Hoalt in the moments his body disappeared into golden motes of Issi. “Novia; is there a possibility that your designs for the connection point security have been reproduced?”
Novia grumbled for a moment, then shrugged. “There’s always a possibility. If someone copied ‘em one-to-one, though, I’d have new points showing up on my map. And I don’t. If you want my theory, I think someone’s using plain ol’ teleportation with some obscurity Issi to hide it and they’re calling ‘em connection points. And we know the wolf’s got plenty of obscurity Issi to go around.”
“If that’s your theory, then act on it. Activate the surveillance grid and have someone monitor it at all hours of the day.” Hoalt ordered. “If you see so much as a blip of the wolf, Glasrime, or Lavassil’s Issi, send a message to Wix. He’ll ensure someone sufficiently powerful is there to deal with the source.”
“Will do.” Novia nodded, wiping away the projection of the destroyed room. He pressed both palms to the table and flooded them with white-hot Issi, the table melting away to reveal a hidden compartment with a multitude of Issi creations. He removed a single object; a crown of finely woven silver wires with three murky black gemstones embedded in it. He placed it on his head, blinking once and opening his eyes that had turned the murky black of the gemstones. He opened and closed his mouth, forming soundless words, and Hoalt shifted attention to Shar.
“With Novia in his control center, we’ll have to find someone suitable to oversee the forges while he’s busy. Elach should still have the communication crystal Prisoner left for him; get Metea/Irric to come out of the pillar so she can take Novia’s place.”
Shar tapped her mouthless face with a pensive expression. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? From what you’ve told me, she’s unstable. And she’s an unknown, even if Novia acknowledges her.”
“And yet Novia acknowledges her.” Hoalt stated. “It’s either we trust someone else to take Novia’s place in the control room, or we trust Metea/Irric to oversee the forges. One of those options carries a far greater consequence if we fail.”
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“Understood.” Shar said with a curt nod. “I’ll speak to Elach right away. Permission to disconnect?”
“Permission granted.”
Shar saluted and reached forward, her image spinning into golden threads that retreated back into the communications sphere. Hoalt’s mind was spinning with all the possibilities he had to cover, and the heartache that came with placing them on the shoulders of his constants. He’d yet to rely on them for something of such grave import. This would be the first, and quite possibly final, test of their abilities. If an all-out war broke out between two tyrants…
Hoalt breathed a stream of gilded fire out of the corners of a grimace. “Vault.”
“Already on it, dad. Everything’s locked down tight, and Jame’s doing inventory as we speak.” She interrupted, her eyes blazing with internal light. “Once we’re sure all the artifacts are there, we’ll move on to the reports. Do you want this kept between him and I, or should I bring anyone else in to help?”
“If Thana is available, have her join you. Her Issi will aid you immensely.”
“Gotcha. Don’t leave too much for yourself, alright?” Vault said, standing and hugging Hoalt’s shoulders. He grasped her hand with a strained smile. “I’ll make sure Sechen has something good to go back to the pillar with. I was thinking clearance level three; what do you think?”
“Clearance zero.”
Vault paused, taken aback by Hoalt’s sudden generosity. “Are you sure, dad? We’ve got some crazy stuff in clearance zero. Almost as good as clearance gold or black.”
“You put higher clearances again?” Hoalt sighed, shaking his head. “Of course you did. Give her whatever you think would help her best, and clearance levels be damned.”
“Oh, that opens things up.” Vault laughed. “You promise you won’t come after me if you can’t find something extremely powerful later on?”
“There’s no point in hoarding power at a time like this.”
“Remember that you said that. See you later, dad. Occa.”
“Bye.” Occa mumbled as Vault teleported back to her namesake. “Whaddya want, Hoalt?”
“Novia’s crown has a fifteen second period between him removing it and becoming aware of what’s around him. You’re safe.” Hoalt said as she stood, stepping over to Occa and pulling her hood back. “The broken-down connection point. What did you find?”
Occa raised her head, her eyes sharp and alert. “A miasma of obscurity Issi. It was so thick I almost couldn’t see anything through it, which doesn’t make any sense. Why shove so much Issi at something when the only thing that could incriminate you is the Issi itself?”
“Because they weren’t the ones trying to hide.” Hoalt surmised.
“You got it.” Occa said with a snap of her fingers. “I found a trail, but it’s winding and full of fake dead-ends. I could follow it for months and never get to the end of it, which means they’ve got someone on their side who’s competent enough to prepare specifically for my Issi. Which next to no-one should know about.”
“How many of you do you have following the trail at the moment?” Hoalt asked.
“Six. Any more than that and the wolf could sniff me out.” Occa answered, her eyes splitting into six separate overlapping pairs of irises and pupils as she lifted her veil. “It’ll take another week to rule out everything and everyone you want, but I have an awful feeling we don’t have that much time.”
“If that’s true, then one of your duplicates being found out is the least of our problems. Head off to your sanctuary and quadruple the number of duplicates you have investigating.” Hoalt said with a weary sigh. “We need to know what the catalyst for this invasion was. We’ve been left alone for two centuries, and yet now we are the confluence for Glasrime, Lavassil, the pretender, and whoever is championing Prisoner. There is something we’re missing, and it could spell the end for all of us.”
Occa nodded and stood, stretching arms high over her head as the rest of her veil peeled away. She was the only person Hoalt knew he could truly trust, as she’d walked the path of redemption alongside him all these years. Someone who held exactly no interest in any of the politics of the world piece, yet worked tirelessly to maintain the fragile peace that came with the shared disinterest of the powers on this side of the veil.
“Prisoner was affiliated to Cavress. They fell to what we’re desperately trying to avoid. You’re sure he isn’t here to end us?” Occa asked.
Hoalt shook his head. “If he was here to end us, and he knew how Cavress fell, he would have repeated that tragedy all over again. If he wants to bring the wrath of the eternals down on us, he can do it at any moment, so it’s pointless trying to observe him. Continue watching the pretender, who we might have a chance at dissuading.”
“If you think that’s the right way to go.” Occa shrugged. “If I find anything I’ll let you know right away.” She shot a glance at Novia and grinned. “Have fun watching him play with himself.”
With a crack, Occa split into two translucent copies of herself, then disappeared completely. If she could deduce what the wolf was trying to achieve, there was a small chance Hoalt could shut it down before it devoured both Gilded Nights. But he had to be a realist; he’d grown complacent. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with one of his practitioners where he’d stated that things needed to change and chuckled sadly. He’d been saying that for years, and yet he hadn’t worked a single minute towards solving the problem that now threatened to end everything he’d worked for. Things were changing, but he’d lost the chance to be riding the wave and now had to try to keep from being pulled under.
His city, and its inhabitants, would pay the price for his inaction.
Hoalt stepped to the carved wall, running a hand over the primitive gouges he’d carved by hand so many centuries ago. When this room had been nothing but an anomalous empty space in an otherwise impenetrable natural fortress. When he’d found himself banished here by the people he thought would follow him until the end of time. Those eight years of solitary confinement had been the catalyst for every change, even if he’d known they would be wiped away by the unknown tides of change. Yet the tide went out one final time, and never returned. He’d held his breath for a century, watching his city devolve into something he couldn’t stand. Something that he hadn’t sculpted. But if he’d been the mastermind behind all those changes, all those policies, all that suffering… today’s Gilded Night simply wouldn’t exist. And the man known as Prisoner would have brought the wrath of the eternals down on it without a second thought.
“And now we fight for the tomorrow that should have been decades ago.” Hoalt muttered. “A tomorrow free of the wolf. Free of the fear of the eternals.”
“You won’t come to that tomorrow without riding a tide of blood.” Novia said solemnly, his eyes still pitch-black, yet looking straight into Hoalt’s soul. “We’re here behind you, emperor. But you have to know the price yer gonna pay if we do this.”
“Of course I know.” Hoalt grimaced. “No matter how unpleasant, I’ve always been prepared for this eventually. Since before I formed this group of constants. Since the anomaly that birthed the twisted mirror of myself that is the wolf. Since I felled the first constants by my own hand and dragged this city kicking and screaming into a future that would last longer than centuries.”
Novia grunted and turned away. “You make the call and I’ll know yer serious. Until then, I’ll keep going like this is another one of our close calls.”
Hoalt wanted to speak those words into existence. Yet they would spell the end of the Gilded Night. It would spell the end of his millenia-long reign. Hoalt, the tyrant, would end, and he was terrified of what would emerge from his metaphorical carcass. He knew the call had to be made. It was for the best. For the city. For the people.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t abandon the Gilded Night. Couldn’t abandon everything he’d worked towards, even if the act of leaving everything be could return disastrous consequences.
“Feh. Knew it wasn’t so bad.” Novia muttered, returning his focus to the Issi control room. “Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll have updates in the morning.”