Chapter Two Hundred Sixty: 'O, wicked shifters...'

When Loren Lighteyes stepped off the boat, he was only too glad to finally have solid ground beneath him again. He would have much preferred to simply fly back to Eloa, but apparently, there were huge dogfights going on all across the skies of the Luthic, and even Abolish didn't want to risk transporting anyone by plane unless they were to serve as reinforcements.

Concealing themselves among civilian boats, however, was somehow not a problem. He'd even seen jets patrolling the shipping lanes. Each time he saw one, Loren had expected it to open open fire on their big, lumbering tanker, but that thankfully never happened.

What exactly the fighting was about, he still didn't quite know. Popular sentiment seemed to be that it was some kind of proxy conflict, related to the Vantalayan war effort. Perhaps Czacoa and its allies were trying to prevent Vantalay from bringing in support from overseas.

Loren didn't think that explained why the fighting spanned such a wide swath of the Luthic, though. It was the largest ocean in the world. If they were only concerned about the Vantalayan region, then why had Abolish shut down all aerial transports out of eastern Ardora?

In any case, it was an enormous hassle. And while he didn't hate the ocean quite as much as he used to as a child, he was still far from in love with it. Perhaps the gills that he had mutated onto his back would one day change his opinion in that regard, but if so, he had a feeling that it would require many, many years.

And it didn't help, of course, that those gills still needed some work. They weren't exactly his proudest effort. While they did technically allow his body to breathe underwater, they were horribly inefficient, and he would still drown eventually--after a few hours or so.

Moreover, servants didn't actually need to breathe underwater. Their brains didn't require oxygen. It was just a matter of comfort and convenience, really. Plus, his mutant predisposition was for birds, not fish. It was a pretty dumb mutation overall, and at times, he found himself regretting it.

Maybe he'd take another crack at refining it one day, though. His whole reason for even attempting it in the first place was to help him overcome his fear of the ocean, and he supposed in that sense, it had proved somewhat helpful.

A Vaelish boy afraid of the sea? It was an absurdity. Or should've been. If his people's culture hadn't been shredded nearly to the point of extinction.

Agh.

His heritage hadn't mattered for a long time. It was stupid to get sentimental about it.

But that was what the ocean did to him. Reminded him of the past, of a life he barely remembered.

Just one more reason why he hated it so much.

This port town of Ritoro was a welcome sight, at least. He'd never visited Steccat before. He could see why the eastern Eloan coast was so praised for its beauty. Pale white sands filled the oceanic horizon, and scores of slender palm trees lined most of the buildings and sidewalks.

When departing from Eloa to Ardora before, he'd flown out of Vantalay, but with travel there having become so difficult, Steccat was apparently the next best option.

Most of this country was rich and well-guarded, and he'd always thought that Abolish's influence here was limited, but if they were able to waltz into it so easily, then maybe that wasn't the case.

Perhaps this was the Freeman Fellowship's influence. They were obviously far from normal Abolishers.

And he was now one of them. Or soon would be. He wasn't too clear on that point, yet. He'd technically accepted the invitation from the Gentleman of Palei, but there was probably some sort of induction ceremony that he had to go through first.

If nothing else, it soon became clear the Freemen had something going for them in this country. The vehicle that rolled up to receive them was a midnight black Revenant M77 Phasma. As far as limousines went, it was one of the most handsome models on the market--and a beast of a machine, besides. Its long, sleek hood was hiding over seven hundred horsepower, and its on-demand four-wheel drive was a rarity among such vehicles.

The reason he recognized it immediately was because it had a sports car sibling that he adored, the Revenant L90 Kingswraith. If he ever managed to strike it rich, that beauty would be one of his first big purchases for sure.

That wasn't likely, though. He'd learned how to drive from many combat-focused teachers and was experienced behind the wheel in such circumstances to boot, but he'd never actually owned a car before. It was a nice dream with little practicality. He simply traveled too much for Abolish.

Heh. If the Freemen could somehow change that, too, then he would become a member for life. Assuming Rezolo let him, that was.

He gazed out the window as they drove. The other Freemen were too busy talking to Zahi Rambata to bother him with questions, which Loren actually appreciated for once. He had plenty of experience ignoring Zahi's incessant motormouth. He did not have experience with being pleased by Zahi's company, however. That was a new feeling.

In terms of design, Ritoro looked like a pleasantly simple town. Long, straight roads in a clear grid framework. Not too many tall buildings. Hard to get lost in and therefore easy to escape from in a hurry.

That would also make it difficult to hide in, though. Big cities with confusing layouts had their own sorts of advantages, he knew.

The ride didn't last long. They soon pulled into the parking lot of a colorful building with unlit signs all over it, making them difficult to read.

A night club, he realized as they made their way inside--though it wasn't yet nighttime.

The place wasn't open, but it was still abuzz with activity. And Loren quickly realized why.

Dozens of large, ethereal geckos hovered in the air, unaffected by the club's low lighting.

Reapers.

'There are quite a few familiar faces in here,' said Rezolo in the echo of privacy.

Loren was already scanning the crowd for any signs of recognition. If these were all Freemen, then that was unlikely.

Zahi had already peeled off to go converse with one of the several groups that dotted the main room, and the trio of Freemen who'd brought him headed over to a corner, not waiting for him.

Loren found himself gravitating toward the bar area, instead. He wasn't a very heavy drinker, but there was a veritable buffet of snack foods that attracted him over. Hmm, did they have those little hot dogs wrapped in bread or whatever it was? Maybe some crackers with that white, lumpy shit on it?

Okay, so he wasn't exactly a foodie, but he knew what tasted good and what didn't.

A conversation in his ear caught his attention as he was looking over his prospects.

"Think he'll go for it?"

"No idea."

"I thought he was all about achieving glory on the battlefield."

"Can't believe everything you hear, I guess."

"Hrm. I suppose if he wasn't receptive to the idea of joining us, then he wouldn't have showed up out of the blue like this."

Loren's brow lowered as he stuffed his face. They weren't talking about him, were they? No, he'd only just arrived--and with an escort, too. Must've been referring to someone else.

He considered interjecting into the conversation to ask directly, but they answered his question without him having to.

"Having the Marauder of Calthos on our side would be a huge get."

"Yeah, no shit."

Loren paused mid-bite.

The Marauder was here?

Truth be told, there were very few Abolishers whom Loren harbored any kind of actual respect or admiration for. That was just the nature of things when working under so many violent lunatics. But Caster Egmond might have been an exception. Possibly. Loren had never actually met the guy, but there was one particular tale that had piqued Loren's interest.

It was a story from the Vaelish Civil War. He'd only heard about it secondhand from other Abolishers, but supposedly, the Marauder of Calthos had conducted himself differently from his peers during that conflict. When tasked with the annihilation of an entire city, Egmond had first gathered up all of the children therein, intending to have them join Abolish.

That alone was already enough to set him apart from his contemporaries, but when word came down from Vanderberk that they had no use for so many children, that they should simply be executed instead, Egmond had purportedly gone against orders and allowed the kids to escape.

At the time, Loren had never heard of anyone daring to go against Vanderberk's orders. That vile bastard always made sure that everyone did as he said, no matter how far out of his way he had to go. And he didn't take insubordination well.

The rest of the story was more well-known. Everybody heard about it when Vanderberk arrived at the city of Loya, looking to make an example of Caster Egmond. Whether that example was to humiliate him or to outright kill him, no one had been entirely sure, but either way, the resultant duel leveled the already-ruined city into dust.

And the Marauder barely came away with his life. If not for the sudden appearance of Jercash, Caster Egmond would have most certainly died. Or so the story went.

If that was all true, then it might make sense why the Freeman Fellowship would be interested in recruiting him.

Loren had to wonder if that tale was really true, though. For all he knew, Egmond and Vanderberk could have fought for completely different reasons. But at the very least, he wouldn't mind meeting the Marauder and seeing for himself. As far as commanding officers went, Egmond sounded like one of the least terrible ones.

Not like Natia or Laredo or Itoya--or the Void forbid, fucking Vanderberk himself. Loren truly did not know what he would do if he were somehow transferred into one of that monster's sects. He'd been forced to work together with them before, and it was an absolute nightmare every time. How much more horrible would it be to work for them instead, he wondered?

Within the entirety of Abolish, those people really were the worst of the worst. Which was saying a lot.

Compared to past experiences, this club full of Freemen felt about as rowdy as a teenage slumber party.

Or what he imagined a slumber party to be like, anyway. He hadn't even finished elementary school before he'd had to start hunting wild animals with sticks and rocks just to fill his belly. But he'd seen movies. They were mostly realistic, right?

Man, these miniature hot dog things were good. He was starting to get thirsty, though. He didn't want to drink around a bunch of strangers, so he went for a pitcher full of ice water at the end of the bar.

Another hand grabbed it at the same time as him, and he looked over to see that it belonged to a rather small man who was eyeing him right back.

"And here I thought I was the only one not drinking," the man said, letting him have the pitcher.

Loren's gaze lingered on him, however. He didn't recognize his face, but there was something... heavy about him. Something that Loren had felt before in the presence of extremely powerful servants.

And he'd heard that Caster Egmond was on the shorter side... but this couldn't actually be him, could it? Just sitting here at the bar by himself?

The short man tilted his head at him. "Hmm. You're the one they call Lighteyes, are you not?"

Loren took a seat as he poured a glass for himself. "I am. How'd you know?"

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The man smiled. "Lucky guess."

Hmm. Really? That made Loren want to take a guess of his own. "You... wouldn't happen to be Caster Egmond, would you?"

"Ah. How'd you know?"

"Must be our lucky day."

"Heh." Egmond took the pitcher and refilled his own glass.

Both men took a long swig.

"I'm surprised you've even heard of me," said Loren.

"It's a poor commander who doesn't pay attention to his men."

Loren threw a glance at Rezolo, who was still by his side. He was quite certain that they'd never worked for Egmond, but from the way the guy had said that, he almost wanted to double check with the reaper. He decided against it, though.

"I don't think I've ever had the honor of serving under your command, sir."

"My, you're very polite, aren't you?"

Loren certainly didn't want to come across otherwise. Not right now, at least.

Egmond gave Rezolo a look now, too. "Found yourself a good one, you think?"

'He has his moments,' said Rezolo.

Wow. That might've been the most praise the reaper had ever given him.

'What brings you here, anyway?' the reaper asked.

Egmond took another swig. "Good question. I guess you could say I'm a new man. And as such, I'm looking to make a few changes."

'Changes that involve the Fellowship?' said Rezolo.

"Possibly," said Egmond. He looked around the clubroom for a moment before returning to his ice water for a sip. "I'm in the market for new, reliable subordinates."

Loren's interest was sufficiently piqued. He waited for Rezolo to ask another probing question, but when the reaper remained silent, he decided to jump in himself with a comment. "Those are difficult to come by in Abolish."

"Indeed."

"You think the Fellowship has the kind of men you're looking for?"

"Well, I know they have different men, at the very least. They've been trying to entice me to join for years, but I've always been reluctant to take the plunge."

"Why?"

Egmond paused for another swig. "Truthfully? My reputation was everything to me. And joining the Freemen would have meant gambling with it. Some doors might open, others might close. I was, to put it nicely, a bit risk-averse in that regard."

Hmm. Egmond made it sound like it had been entirely his own decision. Loren didn't see a reaper over his shoulder, and the man wasn't speaking in two voices, either. There was no telling if Egmond had even brought his reaper here. It would make sense, Loren supposed, if he'd come alone.

'And you're not like that anymore?' said Rezolo.

"As I said, I'm a new man."

'I see. What sparked this sudden change in you, then?'

"Why do you ask?"

'Professional curiosity.'

Egmond set his drink down and looked at Rezolo, then at Loren. "Join me and find out."

Loren's eyes widened. He wanted to say yes straightaway, but he knew it wasn't that simple. Even Rezolo probably didn't have the final say on a decision like this.

'We've only just joined the Fellowship, ourselves,' the reaper explained.

"Is that supposed to be a problem?" said Egmond.

'I'm not sure we'll have the latitude to choose our own assignments quite yet.'

"If I ask for you, they won't refuse me."

'You're that interested in recruiting us?' said Rezolo.

"I'm interested in giving you a chance. If the feeling is not mutual, then by all means, stay where you are."

'You really have changed. Where is Kalikos? I should like to speak with him.'

"Nowhere nearby. But I will be returning to him soon, if you wish to accompany me."

Loren glanced at Rezolo. 'You know Egmond and his reaper personally?'

Rezolo ignored him. 'We would need to join you first, is what you are saying.'

"No. But it would be a rather long trip to make purely to have a conversation. And there would be a few detours."

'Who else have you recruited?'

"Not a single soul. You two would be the first."

'Ah.'

Silence arrived, threatening to kill the conversation there. Only the background chatter of the Freemen remained.

Shit. Loren had a feeling that Rezolo would refuse now. It was hard to know what the reaper was thinking, even after all these years together, but he didn't think the reaper would want to gamble like this. If Rezolo was going to be convinced, then they needed to pull something more concrete out of Egmond.

"...Does this 'new you' have a particular goal in mind?" asked Loren.

"Yes."

Great.

Loren waited for elaboration, trying to have patience.

Thankfully, it did arrive. "I've spent so long destroying things. Now there is something I would like to build."

'Oh?' said Rezolo. 'What would that be?'

"A tower."

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Hector stumbled back, and before he could process anything else, he was on the floor, trying to move and finding that he didn't have the strength.

His head was pounding, and he could scarcely hold onto a single thought. He was fairly sure that someone was talking, but that was about the extent of what his faculties were able to tell him.

That, and he was tired.

Fucking exhausted, actually. Holy shit.

Wow. In a secondary thought process, he was able to assess his own sorry state. How trashed his body felt. How clouded his thoughts were. How disorienting everything was. How flat this floor was. Hmm.

Beyond that, though, the thought process wasn't good for much else. The world was a gray blur around him.

Well, maybe that was okay. Maybe he just needed some sleep or something.

Or something? What did or something mean? What was comparable to sleep?

Nothing, probably. But it did feel kinda weird, because had he not been sleeping a moment ago? Where had his mind been? Hell, where was it now?

Confusing.

Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he was actually awake, right now. His body and mind both felt sluggish enough that he could have been asleep. Maybe this was a dream.

Nah. He almost never had dreams. Oh, or maybe he just never remembered them?

Nah.

Maybe he was just stupid. Yeah, that seemed fairly likely.

His head was swimming with images. And feelings. Sensations.

"--ctor? Hector? Come on, Hector, look at me."

Hector? Wait, he was named Hector. Whose voice was that? It didn't sound like his own.

"Say something, Hector. Just let us know you're all the way back. Then I'll let you sleep. As much as you want."

Back? Back from where?

Oh, right.

That's where all these images were from. All these sensations.

The Forge.

He'd seen so much.

Too much, probably. All this information. All these memories. They weren't his. They didn't belong in his head.

Who knew a tree would have so much to tell him?

He wondered if he was even the same person, anymore. How long had he been in there? Maybe the voice would be able to tell him. If he could figure out how his mouth worked again.

Ugh, that seemed like a pretty tall order, right now.

Why was it so freaking difficult to concentrate? He had the blessing of Focus going for him, didn't he? Wasn't that supposed to help with shit like this?

Or was it? He couldn't remember.

He felt himself say something. He had no idea what it was, though. It sounded like he was speaking with a mouth full of cotton. Hopefully it made more sense to whoever was listening.

After that, he just kinda drifted for a while. Thoughts were too difficult to hold onto. His secondary thought process was a bit more aware, but it was like being trapped in a murky, gray box. He could sense the box just fine, but that was about it.

He needed rest, probably.

Which was kinda weird, wasn't it? Was Garovel not around? The reaper could've relieved his fatigue in an instant, couldn't he?

Hmm, maybe he couldn't. Hector had never felt fatigue quite like this before.

His soul felt tired.

Maybe that made no sense. He wouldn't have even thought such a thing was possible. But that was the only way his half-conscious mind could describe it.

Eventually, he slept. Or was fairly sure that he did, at least.

It didn't feel normal. At all.

For Hector, sleeping was always just this warm, welcoming darkness. Thoughtless and comfortable. A blanket that wrapped itself around him completely.

But now, he saw things. Scenes. Unfolding before his eyes.

From the Forge's memories? That seemed likely. He couldn't hold onto any of them, though. Even as he watched them, they slipped through his mind like water through his fingers. He didn't have the awareness or strength or whatever was necessary in order to understand them.

It was just... different.

When he awoke, he was in a bed.

His bed.

The one in Warrenhold.

Uh-oh.

He sat up in a rush, looking around.

Well. This was definitely the master bedroom in the Tower of Night. Everything looked the same. Why in the world did they bring him all the way back here? There was a bed near the Forge, right? They could've just let him sleep there.

Hmm.

His head was surprisingly clear, he realized. He didn't feel groggy in the slightest. Almost like when Garovel made his fatigue disappear. Except he didn't see the reaper anywhere.

Which was the first thing he needed to check on.

'...Garovel?'

'Hector! You're awake! Finally!'

'How long was I out?'

'It's been almost a whole month now, I think.'

Hector's eyes widened. '...This is the part where you tell me you're just fuckin' with me, right?'

'Afraid not, pal.'

Aw, shit. He rolled out of bed. Well, at least he had clothes on. Holy god, he stank, though. And he was so fucking hungry. He wasn't sure his stomach had ever felt so incredibly empty before--which was saying a lot, because he had many examples to compare it against.

Other than that, however, he actually felt pretty good. Light on his feet. Not sluggish at all. Ready to go somewhere and do stuff.

The first destination should probably be the shower, he figured. He made his way over to the bathroom while Garovel kept talking.

'Half of that time, you spent just standing there in front of the Forge. The other half, you spent asleep. In a fucking soul-coma.'

'A soul-coma?'

'Yeah. Figured that was a good term for it, since I kept trying to wake you up. Unsuccessfully, that is. Which was really obnoxious, by the way. Please don't do that again.'

'Yeah, er, I'll try not to.'

'Y'know, at first, I wasn't worried at all. You do weird and dumb shit like this all the time, so I was fine with just waiting. But I gotta admit, after that second week rolled around, I was becoming slightly upset. Peeved. Miffed, you might say.'

'Uh... huh...'

'And also, congratulations on helping me invent a new term. Soul-comas weren't a thing until you came along and scared the shit out of everyone.'

Hector just showered in silence, unsure how to respond. The reaper sounded pretty upset, actually. Not necessarily with him so much as with the strangeness of the circumstances.

But maybe also with him. Kinda.

'And y'know, seeing as our souls are connected as per this whole reaper-servant situation we've got goin' on, you would think that something like a soul-coma would affect me along with you. But no. Apparently not. I've felt just peachy this whole time.'

Hector scratched his head at that as he applied shampoo. Oh hey. Yep. His hair had definitely grown a bit. 'Er... are you implying that you're upset about NOT being in a coma with me?'

'No. Maybe. A little bit.'

'Garovel, I'm touched. But that's stupid. Like, really stupid.'

'Yeah, well, maybe I'm just curious about what the Forge showed you.' A beat passed. 'And don't you dare tell me that it didn't show you anything or that you don't remember.'

Well, now, he was kinda tempted to say both of those things.

'You were standing in one place, motionless, for two weeks. And I've been waiting for some damn answers for another two weeks on top of that. So you better have some juicy-as-fuck details for me about what the hell happened back there.'

'Uh...'

'Hector...'

Frankly, he wasn't sure how to explain. Or if it was even possible to. What had the Forge shown him? What hadn't it shown him? There was enough information swimming around in his head right to fill a book. Or ten books. Or more, maybe.

Holy shit, he thought.

But it was all a mess. Disordered. And foggy, in places. Just concentrating on it was difficult, like trying to look through a dim window.

It wasn't supposed to be there, he was pretty sure.

'Listen, eh... can we talk about that later? I'm not really sure how to explain it all yet, and I feel like you should bring me up to speed on the past month, first.'

'Oh, I see how it is. You like leaving me in the dark, don't you?'

Hector's face flattened as he lathered himself in soap. 'Garovel.'

'Alright, alright. I mean. Yeah. There's. Some stuff. That I should probably tell you about. It might be kinda surprising, though. Just a tad bit.'

Hector waited. Recalling how many difficult situations he'd been worried about before his "soul-coma," he tried to brace himself for bad news.

'Hey, are you sitting down? You're not, are you? You're too busy washing your junk.'

'Garovel, just tell me.'

'Okay, well, first off, the Rainlords found their captive brethren.'

His head twitched. 'What?!'

'They're in Vantalay.'

'You're shitting me. Wait, who's in Vantalay? Tell me everyone didn't just leave Warrenhold while I was out.'

'No, no, nobody's left yet. But they've definitely been thinking about it. A lot. It's practically all they've been talking about this past week.'

'Shit... so the other half of the Rainlords are being held captive in Vantalay, right now?'

'Mmhmm. Apparently, one of the Triplets happened upon the intel while sneaking through a VMP base.'

It took Hector a second to piece all that information together. 'The VMP? I thought the VMP was working with Abolish. Why would they have intel on Vangaurdian prisoners from a totally different country?'

'They ARE working with Abolish. Mostly. It's a big ol' mess. It would appear that the Vanguard has made a secret deal with them to take custody of the captive Rainlords in exchange for pulling their forces out of Vantalay.'

Hector blinked. 'What the fuck kind of deal is that?! Wouldn't the VMP just hand them over to Abolish and be done with it?!'

'Supposedly, it's a temporary arrangement. The Vanguard would come back for them once the war is over and take custody again. But who knows how true that is?'

'Agh, fuck...'

'It's good that you're awake now,' said Garovel, 'but I also have a feeling that one of the reasons the Rainlords haven't made their move yet is because they were waiting for you.'

'I kinda doubt that, Garovel.'

'Do you? Hmph, well, of course you do. Look, I'm not saying it's the only reason. They're definitely trying to pick their moment. They wouldn't tell you this in so many words, but I get the impression that they're terrified of running in half-cocked and letting even more people get captured.'

That was somewhat relieving to hear, at least.

'Obviously, it would be best if the team that we already have in Vantalay was able to free the other Houses without us needing to send any more reinforcements.'

'Would that even be possible?'

'That's what the Rainlords have been trying to figure out. It's a complicated situation with a lot of details that I need to tell you. But before we get too deep into it, I'm sure there other things you're curious about, hmm?'

He was right, Hector knew. 'The Forge. What's been happening with Abbas and the Forge?'

Garovel fell silent a moment. 'Heh.'

Hector paused, listening even more intently all of a sudden.

'It's up and running. Abbas has been working with it nonstop.'