Chapter Two Hundred Fifty: 'Partnership of the Age...'

Hector pressed his lips together flatly again as he waited for Abbas to respond. It seemed like the man wasn't going to, so Hector decided to elaborate. "We're not sure how it works. The Forge might just be broken. We wanted a skilled integrator to inspect it."

"You have... a Fusion Forge..." was all Abbas managed to say. He looked dazed now.

In spite of himself, in spite of wanting to remain as composed and lordly as he could, Hector couldn't help smiling a little. He put a fist in front of his mouth to hide it, not sure if it would offend the Head of the Golden Council. "Perhaps you could work on your armor on the way?" he suggested, trying his damnedest not to start laughing.

Abbas and Worwal both squinted at him, then exchanged looks with one another.

'Do you truly have a Fusion Forge in your possession?' said Worwal. 'You are not trying to prank us, are you?'

That did it. Hector shut his eyes and chuckled into his closed fist. Shit. He had to clarify immediately. "It's not a prank," he said, regathering himself. He looked to Garovel for help.

Garovel was turned around and doubled over in the air. The black shroud that covered his skeletal form was shaking violently. With suppressed laughter. He was having an even harder time than Hector was, apparently.

'You ARE pranking us!' said Worwal.

Garovel started guffawing outright.

"No!" said Hector, still struggling to keep his composure. "It's real! I swear! Come with us to Lorent, and you'll see!"

"How in the world did you get your hands on a Fusion Forge?" said Abbas.

Hector took a second to let Garovel calm down. And then he shrugged. "I just found it."

"Are you sure that it is a Fusion Forge?" said Abbas.

That was actually a good question, Hector thought. "Well, Garovel said it was, so... if it turns out to be a fake or something, then... blame him, not me."

'Whoa, whoa, whoa. First of all, it was Voreese who first said it was Fusion Forge, so if anything--'

Their conversation continued on for a while longer, as did the Lord Saqqaf's incredulity. And frankly, Hector didn't feel like he was doing a very good job of convincing the man that they weren't bullshitting him. But in the end, Abbas agreed to go to Lorent with him, which was all that really mattered.

Hector had more that he wanted to discuss, but he figured they could talk more during the trip.

In the meantime, Hector wanted to check up on things around Warrenhold. Having just woken up, he still didn't feel like he had a clear picture of everything that had transpired while he was asleep. He figured Garovel would've told him right away if anything really terrible had happened to any of the other combatants in the battle, but Hector decided to pay a visit to everyone, anyway.

Roman, having been blown to pieces by a missile, had also been regrown from scratch by Voreese. Unsurprisingly, he was in even more pain than Hector, which was doubtless why Hector found him enjoying a nice long soak in the bathhouse.

They didn't talk long, as Roman soon drifted off to sleep.

Hector almost woke him up, because he was fairly certain that he'd heard it was a bad idea to sleep in a hot spring, but after thinking about it, he decided that it was probably fine. Roman was undead, after all. And obviously tired, besides.

Hector might've liked to get some more sleep of his own, but now wasn't the time--nor would it be any time soon, he figured. He found Salvador Delaguna by chance among Hahl Saqqaf, tending to some of their wounded. Hector hadn't expected to see him there, as he didn't realize the man had any medical experience; but indeed, after watching him work for a few minutes, it seemed clear that Hector had been right. He didn't have any.

Salvador was just helping his niece out, apparently. Clarissa Delaguna didn't hesitate to chastise him when he made mistakes or moved too slowly for her liking, but she was also taking the time to show him how to do things properly.

It was a bit of a strange sight. Such a giant man, hunching over tables and bed-ridden people, clearly trying to be as gentle as he possibly could with his enormous hands.

Hector admired it, though. If he had more time, he would've liked to join in. Medical knowledge might not have been too useful for him personally, but maybe one day, in sufficiently terrible circumstances, it could be the difference between someone living and dying.

Maybe that was what Salvador was thinking, too.

Something else to add to his to-do list.

Hector found the Sebolts in the Entry Tower. Dimas had suffered some pretty heavy wounds in the fight, too, and his new girlfriend was now hanging onto him like some kind of human bracelet.

"Thank you so much for keeping my man safe, Lord Goffe!" said Madison Reach. "I was so worried!" She pecked Dimas on the cheek, then perhaps thought that wasn't enough and went back for a second, much longer kiss in the same spot.

An impressive amount of lipstick stayed on Dimas' face. As usual, though, his expression was impossible to read.

The other Sebolts in the room snickered and whispered among themselves.

Maybe it was a bit rude, but Hector felt more of a kinship with the onlookers. The sight of Madison clinging to him like that made Hector want to tease Dimas, too. "Not at all," said Hector. "If anything, it was your boyfriend here who was keeping me safe."

"Oh?" Madison's big, curious eyes went to her beau.

Dimas, however, kept his eyes on Hector. "You're too modest, Lord Goffe. I did hardly a thing." Something about the way he said 'Lord Goffe' so stiffly made Hector think that Dimas might actually be somewhat uncomfortable--which was not something Hector had seen from him before.

"Have you ever seen him use his powers, Ms. Reach?" said Hector.

"Oh, a little bit, yeah. Dimas doesn't like to show off much, you know. He can be kinda shy, sometimes."

"You don't say?" said Hector. "How so?"

"Well, for instance, he doesn't like kissing for more than three seconds in front of other people, but when we're alone--"

Hector felt his chair raise off the floor and begin floating toward the door.

"It was nice talking to you, Lord Goffe," said Dimas, "but I am sure you have many other pressing matters to tend to. We wouldn't want to keep you."

Hector just laughed and didn't put up any resistance. Motive aside, the man wasn't wrong about him having other things to take care of.

His next encounter was not nearly so jovial, unfortunately. He first noticed it when crossing the main plaza and sensing a sudden disturbance in the air over the half-sunken town below Warrenhold. He returned to nearly the same spot where he'd talked to Abbas earlier and looked out into the distance, concentrating harder on what the Scarf could tell him.

Air tremors might've been the best way to describe it. Indicative of heavy impacts. Not enough to make the cave itself tremble, thankfully, but still noteworthy, just the same.

That area over there was where he and Zeff often trained together.

Hector decided to check it out. As he got closer, the impacts became more obvious, the tremors more violent. And the cave indeed began to shake.

Perhaps that was why the Lord Elroy had chosen to move even farther away from Warrenhold than usual. He didn't want to hold back, today.

As he approached, a car-sized chunk of ice flew toward Hector, and he had to slip out of the way. For a second, he thought Zeff was attacking him, but after a moment, he realized that it had just been part of an even larger iceberg that had shattered on the ground.

All the ice disappeared after a moment, replaced by a tornado of water.

And a scream.

Raw frustration. Anger. Agony.

The whirlwind of water seemed to grow in power, as if to conceal the noise, and soon it was spinning so fast that it was yanking loose boulders out of the distant ceiling and carrying them around it like orbiting satellites.

Hector had to armor up, even as he backed away. He added extra layers, too, just trying to add more weight so that he didn't get pulled away from the ground.

Then the tornado burst apart, sending a tidal wave of water and rocks in all directions. Hector materialized another Amir to help take the brunt of it, but it still knocked him on his ass and sent him skidding across the wet, stony floor.

Water still drizzled down around him as he picked himself up again.

Zeff was just sitting there now, hunched over, his thick black hair soaked and dripping.

Hector had no idea what to say, but he kept his armor on as he approached, hopefully allowing the metal clink of his footsteps to alert Zeff to his presence. There wasn't much light around, so Hector materialized a glowing iron cube, too.

"...No training today, Hector. You're still recovering." The man didn't bother to look up at him.

Hector tried to think of the right words. They didn't come.

Asad Najir and Zeff Elroy had a unique relationship, Hector knew. Something akin to best friends, perhaps. Zeff might not have let it show before, but the fact that Asad was missing must have been tearing him up inside.

Especially after everything else the man had already lost.

And now Hector had confirmation from Rasalased that Asad was not only missing but actually captured by Morgunov.

Hector considered telling Zeff. Would it help anything? Would it just cause Zeff even more misery?

He wasn't sure.

But there was one thing Hector knew for sure. He knew that if their roles were reversed, he wouldn't want Zeff hide this from him.

So he had to say something. Dammit.

"...Rasalased told me that Asad was captured by Morgunov."

Zeff made no response.

Hector waited, though. For something. For anything. An explosion of water, maybe. Or at least some yelling.

But it didn't come.

Zeff just kept sitting there, not looking at him.

"...Zeff?"

Nothing.

That was weird. He didn't even seem surprised. Maybe on some level, Zeff had already known. Or suspected as much, perhaps.

But did that make sense? Wouldn't Zeff have been more worried that Asad was just dead? Not captured?

Hmm.

In any case, Hector didn't want to leave it there. "Rasalased believes that Asad will make it out of this alive. And be stronger for it, too."

Still, Zeff remained quiet.

"I don't know if that's true or not, but... Rasalased hasn't steered me wrong so far."

"Hector."

"Yeah?"

"Leave me alone."

"...Alright."

Without another word, Hector crossed the lake and returned to the castle. He wasn't too concerned about Zeff running off and doing something stupid like trying to mount a one-man rescue. As long as Asad's actual whereabouts were unknown, that wasn't really an option.

Which was to say nothing about the prospect of having to fight the Mad fucking Demon. Considering the fact that he'd just taken down two marshals, even Zeff had to know how utterly moronic that would be.

Hector checked up on the renovation progress as well, but as expected, there wasn't much change. It had only been a day and a half or so since he last checked, after all. And of course, with the arrival of the Sandlords, many among the construction team had gotten distracted or otherwise volunteered to assist in getting everyone settled.

Everyone's priorities had temporarily shifted. That was alright. And understandable. The renovations weren't that urgent.

Were they?

The more he thought about it, the more he had to admit, the possibility that the war might come to Atreya was rising. And if it did, it would most likely come through Lorent now. And geographically speaking, Warrenhold was the first line of defense for Atreya.

...Maybe the last line of defense, too.

Now there was a disconcerting thought.

He put it out of his mind for now.

By the time he finished making the rounds, it was already nearing dinnertime. He'd been grabbing snacks from the kitchen throughout the day, but he was still famished. He decided to give Her Majesty a call before eating, though. He only managed to get a hold of her secretary, but that was fine. He just wanted to let her know that he would be visiting Riverton Hall the day after tomorrow.

After dinner, he went straight to bed. When he awoke, he was still sore all over, but he wasn't quite so stiff anymore, at least.

They set out in the early morning--using regular, old, non-flying cars this time. Since it wasn't an emergency situation, they didn't need Dimas to help them cut down on their travel time so much. Plus, Abbas was bringing a few non-servants with him, and an unpressurized vehicle at high altitudes would not have been kind to them.

Abbas continued to tinker with the helmet of his armor during the ride. He had decided not to bring the entire suit with him, as most of it was apparently in a delicate stage that made moving it problematic. Haqq Najir had stayed behind at Warrenhold to continue working on it.

Hector used the opportunity to tell him what he'd already told Zeff about Asad's captivity.

Abbas was in turns displeased and confused. He had a few questions about Rasalased but not as many as Hector might've expected. Abbas seemed to already have some idea of what was going on there. Perhaps Asad had told him, or perhaps he'd been talking to people around Warrenhold.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Either way, it wasn't anything that Hector hadn't heard before. Once that conversation was out of the way, Hector was eager to move on to topics that he felt were more pressing.

"I was wondering what you plan to do after you finish repairing your armor," he asked.

Abbas took his time responding. "Truth be told, I have been wondering about that, myself."

Hector frowned and eyed the other members of Hahl Saqqaf in the car with them. They didn't looked very encouraged by those words, and Hector couldn't blame them.

He couldn't really blame Abbas, either, though. The guy might've been their leader, but he was in a horrible position, right now. His country had just been stolen from him. His kin, crushed and scattered.

If he was feeling a bit lost, then that made perfect sense, unfortunately. Hector sympathized.

But even so, admitting as much in front of his people... Even if there were only a handful of them here, right now, Hector didn't see much logic in that.

He might've still been new to this whole lording business, but in his experience, keeping up appearances was half the battle.

Well, okay, in his experience, it might've actually been more like ninety percent of the battle.

Before the silence could become too deafening, however, Worwal stepped into the conversation. 'I believe the best course of action is to get in touch with the Vanguard and join the fight for the Wetlands. The situation may look grim, but as far as we know, Sair might still be saved.'

Garovel had something to say about that, apparently. 'I would caution against that. I've gotten word that the Vanguard has already lost its grip on the Wetlands.'

'You've gotten word?' said Worwal. 'From where?'

'We have informants still in the country,' said Garovel.

Informants? That was news to Hector. Garovel couldn't have been talking about the scouting team of Rainlords, could he? Hmm, maybe he was. Hector had assumed that the scouting team had returned to Warrenhold with Hahl Saqqaf and the rest of the refugees, but it would also make sense if they'd redeployed to western Sair, instead.

Agh, so many moving parts to keep track of. Hector was glad to have Garovel around for these sorts of things. Hector hadn't seen him all that much while making the rounds earlier, and he knew it was because Garovel had been busy talking to virtually every other reaper in Warrenhold, old and new arrivals alike.

Hector had wondered if this was going to be the new paradigm, with the two of them dividing the responsibility of overseeing Warrenhold's operations. It certainly helped save time, even if it meant not getting to see Garovel quite as often.

If this really was going to continue into the foreseeable future, though, then they would probably need to spend more time bringing each other up to speed at the end of each day, Hector figured.

'That can't be true,' said Worwal. 'The Vanguard couldn't have lost the Wetlands so quickly. Didn't we just receive word that Jackson survived the clash at Uego?'

'Not lost,' said Garovel. 'Losing. And yeah, it sounds like Jackson made it out alive, but I'm also hearing rumors that he is gravely wounded and unable to lead.'

'Wounded?' said Worwal. 'He's undead! Why should his wounds matter so much?!'

Garovel's hollow gaze went to Abbas. 'Why should the regenerative properties of your armor be impaired?'

Worwal paused. 'You are saying that Morgunov attacked him with nanomachines, as well?'

'It's possible,' said Garovel. 'Probable, even. You two didn't even come into direct contact with Morgunov, correct? And yet you were still infected. I think it's quite likely, therefore, that Morgunov hit Jackson with something far more potent.'

Silence arrived for a time until Worwal broke it again. 'Even so, that doesn't change the fact that reuniting with the Vanguard is our best option, at the moment.'

'That is your choice to make, of course,' said Garovel. 'But we will not be able to assist you. The Rainlords are still fugitives from them. Even if they are busy with the war, we can't risk drawing their attention to Warrenhold.'

"The Vanguard cannot help us," said Abbas. His downcast gaze was fixed on the helmet in his hands.

That made the silence return briefly as everyone waited for him to elaborate.

Worwal had to push him. 'What do you mean?'

"The Vanguard is the entire reason we are in this situation to begin with," said Abbas. "They drove out the Rainlords, weakening the nation and inviting attack from Abolish. We were fools to side with them over our own countrymen." The Lord Saqqaf took a heavy breath and rubbed his brow. "Asad was right."

More silence.

Damn, Hector thought. He didn't necessarily disagree, but... damn.

'If we had openly opposed the Vanguard, that would have invited an attack just the same,' said Worwal.

"No," countered Abbas. "The Vanguard's mission is to fight Abolish, no matter the geopolitical circumstances. Most likely, they would have still come to our aid even if we stood with the Rainlords."

'You can't know that,' said Worwal.

"At the very least, we should have reminded the Vanguard of their code of non-interference. They had no right to move against the Rainlords the way they did."

'That code doesn't apply to servant-led governments like ours.'

"A matter of debate. One which we should have held, instead of simply cowing before them." He shook his head. "We have disgraced not only ourselves, but also our forefathers. And the people suffer for it, as always."

Worwal didn't have a response for that, apparently.

Shit.

Generally speaking, Hector had never really considered himself to be a very positive person, but fuck. Someone really needed to give these two a pep talk.

That seemed like a job more suited to Garovel, honestly, but the reaper wasn't saying anything. In fact, he was just staring at Hector. Expectantly.

What the heck? Did Garovel want him to say something? Why wasn't he giving him orders privately, then?

Eh, maybe Hector was reading too much into his expression. It was just a skeletal face, after all. What was there even to read?

"...If you can't rely on the Vanguard," said Hector, "then it's clear what your next move should be."

Abbas looked up at him, as did Worwal.

"Regroup," said Hector. "Find your people. Reform the Golden Council." Hector thought he saw a smirk flash across Garovel's bony mouth.

'...That is easier said than done,' said Worwal. 'We have no idea where the other Hahls have gone.'

'Really?' said Garovel. 'None of them?'

Worwal shook his skull. 'We kept many different rallying points in the event of such an attack, but all of the ones we checked were already razed or taken by Abolish by the time we arrived.'

"In fact," said Abbas, "that was where I encountered two of the Mad Demon's killer robots."

'That's very alarming,' said Garovel, sounding surprised. 'Does that not suggest that Abolish had access to privileged information?'

'It does,' said Worwal. 'I have to imagine that was a contributing factor to the scattered nature of our retreat. If I had to guess, I would say that each of the Hahls has gone to ground and intends to wait quite a while before risking contact with anyone outside of their respective families.'

Hector understood. But he had a hard time buying all of that. "Do you think one of your own kin would have given up details like that?"

'I would like to say no,' said Worwal, 'but the more time goes by, the more skeptical I become.'

Hector didn't know the Sandlords like he knew the Rainlords. He couldn't treat them like they were the same. But even so, it seemed to him that there was at least one way in which the Sandlords and the Rainlords were extremely similar. Their sense of honor. "Is it possible that the leak could have originated from the Vanguard, instead?" he asked.

Worwal and Abbas both paused at that.

"...Perhaps," said Abbas. "The rallying points might have been shared with certain Vanguardians whom had gained one or more of the Hahls' trust."

'Either way, it makes no difference without proof. Even if we could contact the other Hahls, they would likely be incredibly suspicious of us. As we should be of them.'

"What about Hahl Najir?" said Hector. "Haqq was with you, but where are Jada and Imas?" Asad's daughter and sister, respectively. There was Asad's wife and son, too, but Hector couldn't quite recall their names, at the moment.

'We don't know,' said Worwal. 'Nor does Haqq.'

Hector's hand went to the Shard in his coat pocket. It didn't quite fit perfectly in there, but he'd gotten accustomed to the feeling. He pulled it out. "I... might be able to help with that, too."

Abbas and Worwal both stared.

"If Rasalased is cooperative, he could probably lead us to the other Hahls," said Hector.

'You sound uncertain,' said Worwal.

"I am," said Hector. "Talking to Rasalased is difficult. I still haven't quite figured out how to do it at will. But I'll try my best and hopefully get some answers out of him soon."

"...I still cannot believe you are able to converse with him," said Abbas.

Honestly, neither could Hector. He didn't know if he should admit that, though.

They continued talking for the length of the journey. Worwal asked about their recent trip through the Undercrust, having apparently already heard quite a few different things that he wanted confirmation on. Hector mostly let Garovel handle it while he concentrated on contacting Rasalased.

Again, he found himself struggling. How had he managed it the last time? He remembered getting frustrated. Emotional.

...And that had actually worked? Hmm. He supposed it had.

How weird. Usually, allowing himself to get upset seemed like it was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. In fact, he wasn't even sure how he was supposed to do it now. What, was he just supposed to pretend that he was mad again?

Eh.

He gave it a shot.

Shockingly, it didn't work.

He tried a few more times and failed a few more times. It seemed like he would have to actually get mad again in order for it to work, but how the hell was he supposed to do that? Think anger-inducing thoughts? That seemed pretty weird.

He was definitely missing something here, he felt. Why would it be an emotional trigger, of all things? What sense did that make? The only thing he could compare it to was his materialization, with how he used a kind of "emotional command" in order to manipulate temperatures.

But this was completely different, wasn't it?

...Wasn't it?

Why in the world would it be the same? Or even just similar?

Hmm.

Maybe there was a common denominator here that he just wasn't quite seeing.

...An emotional command. He'd only been thinking about the 'emotional' part of that term. But what if that wasn't the issue?

Argh.

Before he could finish working through his thoughts, the vehicle arrived at its destination. Hector tried to shove the problem into a background thought process, but he was suddenly feeling a tinge of nervous anticipation. That big tree in that open field over there was looking pretty damn important, right about now.

Truth be told, he hadn't really given it all that much thought before. Garovel and Voreese said they needed skilled integrators for the Fusion Forge. Abbas Saqqas was a skilled integrator. Pretty straightforward reasoning.

But now that it was imminent, Hector's mind was beginning to go in all sorts of directions. Obviously, Abbas considered the news of a Fusion Forge to be incredibly important for it to be worth the trip all the way out here, so what was he going to think when he saw it?

And more importantly, what might he be able to do with it?

Hector didn't want to get his hopes up too much, but at this point, he couldn't help himself. Would Abbas be able to make crazy weapons? Crazy armor? Or some kinda super weird shit?

...Fuck, it was probably gonna be some super weird shit, wasn't it?

He led the entourage to the tree and welcomed everyone inside.

Hector and Garovel had been worried about leaving the Forge here all by itself. They'd considered various options, such as moving it to Warrenhold, but they didn't want to risk damaging it or making some other kind of mistake with their lack of knowledge regarding its usage. They'd also considered assigning someone to stay and guard it, but without knowing when--or even if--they would be able to find a use for this thing, they decided against that, too. Plus, no one else knew of its existence, so there wasn't much chance of it being stolen.

For now.

Instead, Hector had simply encased the whole huge thing in an iron box. That way, in the unlikely event that someone else had found this room, there would at least be a barrier in place to prevent them from doing anything to the Forge. True, it wasn't the greatest safety measure in the world, but when Hector annihilated the iron, there the Forge still was, waiting.

Its giant glass body gleamed against the meager daylight from the open doorway. Abbas walked toward it first, holding up a hand behind him, telling the others in their party to stand back. His steps were slow and measured as his gaze drank in the view.

The man took his time.

Hector was eager to know more, but he wasn't eager to rush him. From the way Garovel and Voreese had described the Forge, this thing seemed pretty fucking dangerous in the wrong hands. Hector was prepared to give the Lord Saqqaf all the time in the world to examine it.

Abbas got very close to the glass, but Hector could sense via the Scarf that the man wasn't actually touching it.

At length, Abbas finally spoke up. "Do you know who crafted it? Or how long it has been here, perhaps?"

'No on both counts, I'm afraid,' said Garovel. 'But it appears to be at least as old as the early Mohssian Empire. One of the books on that shelf over there mentions the Forge, and it is written in both the Nykeirian and Old Mohssian languages.'

"A minimum of two thousand years, then." The sheer awe in Abbas' voice made Hector's anxiety spike somewhat. "Magnificent."

'Can you tell if it's still functional?' asked Garovel.

"Its condition appears absolutely pristine, but when it comes to Fusion Forges, without being able to consult the creator, the only way to know for certain is to test it out."

'That... sounds rather dangerous,' said Garovel.

A beat passed.

"Yes," was all Abbas said.

Ah.

Hmm.

Everyone fell quiet again, and Abbas continued his inspection, circling around the stony base of the giant glass globe.

Eventually, Garovel spoke up again. 'Y'know, if you think it's too dangerous, we understand. No matter how useful the Forge is in theory, it's not worth losing you, Lord Abbas. I mean, it REALLY isn't. So. Please. Don't feel pressured to do anything you are not comfortable with.'

"Oh, we are far beyond the realm of comfort already," said Abbas.

Yikes, Hector thought. A question stirred within him, and he had to ask it. "Have you ever worked with a Fusion Forge before, Lord Abbas?"

Abbas scratched his temple, not taking his eyes from the globe. "As a matter of fact, I have." There was a wavering laugh in the tone of his voice. "It nearly killed me."

Hector was not pleased to hear that.

"I was young and foolish then," Abbas went on. "I refused to heed my mentor's warnings."

'Or mine,' added Worwal.

"Yes. I wanted to prove myself--that I was the intellectual equal of so many of the great men around me. It was pure egoism."

At that, Hector wanted to ask another question, but it sounded rather rude in his head.

Thankfully, Garovel posed a similar enough inquiry first. 'Have you had any GOOD experiences with a Fusion Forge, Lord Abbas? Like where you actually made something cool and didn't almost die in the process?'

"Tell me," said Abbas. "Have you ever heard of a man named Dolf Rachman?"

Garovel was quiet for a lingering moment. 'I most certainly have. The Rachman Duels were the stuff of legend.'

A short laugh escaped Abbas' lips. "He would have been pleased to hear someone say that. Many historians, reapers included, seem to treat him as little better than an ant whose most noteworthy accomplishment was getting stepped on."

'Historians can be cruel,' said Garovel. 'And cowardly, too--especially when their work involves a living emperor. It may be another century or two before Rachman is given a fair shake by the historical community.'

'Even that may be too optimistic,' said Worwal.

'Why do you bring Rachman up?' said Garovel. 'You knew him, I take it?'

"He was my mentor," said Abbas. "One of several, in truth, but the one I loved most, to be sure. He would have been ecstatic to discover a new Forge."

Hmm. Hector couldn't help noticing that Abbas was not giving a straight answer to Garovel's earlier question.

"Dolf's own mentor was Kalim Lotorevo--an even more remarkable man, though I never had the privilege of meeting him. Kalim was the one who made the Forge that I used in my idiotic youth. The Earth Cruncher, is what they called it in Mohssian. An incredible, hulking thing. Full of grinding metal and fire--and honestly quite terrifying to be near when in use. Not like this one at all, I'd say." Abbas paused, and Hector sensed a silent sigh between breaths. "But Dolf treasured it more than any other object in his workshop. And he was heartbroken when it was finally attacked and destroyed."

'That makes a lot of sense,' said Garovel. 'I remember how much of a stir the Duels caused in the beginning. Everyone thought Rachman was insane to be challenging emperors to single combat, but if he had a Forge at his disposal, then that would explain why he was able to surprise so many people with his strength.'

'In fairness, he WAS insane,' said Worwal. 'Never have I known a more absurd individual than Dolf Rachman. He was nowhere near old enough to be threatening Morgunov and Dozer the way he did. But he was convinced he could defeat one or even both of them.'

'In the beginning, the Duels weren't to the death, were they?' said Garovel.

'That's right. His goal was to simply show the world that they could be beaten. To weaken their influence. It wasn't until the eighth consecutive duel in as many years that Morgunov finally decided that he had grown tired of the game and refused to fight him again unless they raised the stakes by including their reapers in the contest.'

'That was when the Duels began to gain worldwide attention, no?' said Garovel.

'Indeed. It was an utterly ridiculous agreement--and very captivating, I must admit.'

"It was precisely that increased pressure that made Dolf burn at his very brightest," said Abbas. "His brilliance shone through like never before. The items he was able to craft with the Earth Cruncher toward the end... they were truly awesome. They kept him alive when he should have died a dozen times over. I am convinced that Morgunov grew to fear him after that final Duel, and that was why the workshop was attacked and the Forge, destroyed. He was afraid that Dolf would finally beat him one day, and so resorted to sabotage."

'You might be right about that,' said Garovel, 'but I find it a little hard to believe that Morgunov would be afraid of anything. All accounts that I've heard of the guy have painted him as an absolute lunatic who loves battle, even when he is losing.'

'Don't bother trying to make that argument,' said Worwal. 'I've told Abbas the same and more a hundred times over. His mind is made up on this particular matter.'

'Fair enough.'

"Morgunov loves the image that the masses have of him," said Abbas. "This idea that he is incapable of fear, immune to worry, that he is in so many ways an immovable genius beyond the scope of normal human understanding--these are all music to his ears. Propaganda to help sow the seeds of fear. In the end, he is just a man like any other."

Damn. Hector wasn't sure whose word to trust more here, but he had to admire Abbas' passion, at least. If nothing else, it was clear that the Lord Saqqaf had been thinking about the problem of Morgunov for a very long time now. And with the conquest of Sair, Abbas was probably feeling more strongly about it than ever.

Abbas wasn't done talking yet, though. "I've sometimes heard it said that if Dolf had only been more patient, he might have become an emperor himself one day, but I knew him better than anyone, and that simply wasn't his way. He was not a man who could abide mediocrity in virtually any aspect of his life. Every pursuit had to be given the entirety of his effort, and the Duels epitomized that part of him more than anything else. Frankly, I'm surprised he lived as long as he did. And I'm even more surprised his reaper went along with him.

"For all his other faults, I always admired that about him. His single-minded, unshakable drive. In that way, I have often felt small when compared to the enormous shadows that he and his mentor both cast. But seeing this Forge here now... I feel that this is an opportunity that I absolutely must not let pass me by." Abbas circled around the other side of the Forge and then looked Hector in the eye. "I promise you, I will get this Forge working if it is the last thing I do."

Hector sensed an ever so slight shift in the air as he listened to Abbas' words. The man's intensity was obvious enough from his words and expression, but with the Scarf, Hector felt a little something more. A trembling in the room's air currents.

Abbas was, perhaps unintentionally, affecting the environment with his... words? His soul? His will? Hector wasn't sure.

But whatever it was, it made Hector quite certain that Abbas meant what he said.