Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight: ‘The land of leviathans...’

To say the very least of things, the city of Babbadelo was not what Hector expected. There were no buildings. At least, not by conventional standards. Instead, there were only pillars, tall and broad and wreathed in streaks of amber light. It was like some gargantuan forest where the trees were hewn from rock and glowed in the dark.

But there were trees, too. Many, in fact. None were in the ground, but they were here. They stood in vats of various sizes, depending on the tree, though some of those vats were so large that they became walls unto themselves while supporting an entire row of trees. They all looked to be the same species, as well, though Hector couldn’t exactly identify them. Frankly, he was surprised any kind of plant life could survive the temperatures down here.

And then, of course, there were the people.

Their eyes shone with white light, and if they had irises or pupils, then Hector couldn’t see them. It was such a strange yet familiar sight, like something out of a cartoon. Or perhaps a horror film--he wasn’t quite sure.

Everyone seemed to be completely bald, as well, even lacking eyebrows and facial hair. If not for their still very human-looking physiques, he might have thought they were from a different planet.

And boy, could he see their physiques. They barely wore any clothing at all. Occasionally, he’d spot someone entirely nude.

That much, he wished Garovel would’ve warned him about. Maybe it would’ve made him feel a modicum less uncomfortable right now. He tried not to stare.

It was difficult to discern their skin color, though. The poor lighting and the gloss on his suit’s visor didn’t help, but he was fairly certain that he saw slight variations in skin tone, at least.

As they proceeded on, however, Hector noticed changes among the crowd. More and more people wore clothes--or perhaps, harnesses was a better word for it, since the primary purpose of their clothing seemed to be in carrying things.

He supposed it made sense, though. Given the extreme temperatures down here, these people probably didn’t ever have to worry about staying warm.

‘What can you tell me about these people?’ Hector asked.

‘Well, there are several different races who live in the Undercrust,’ said Garovel privately. ‘In Mohssian, these gray folks with the glowing eyes are called the Hun’Kui--or “people of the ash.” They’re probably who you’ll be seeing the most of out in the open like this. There aren’t many other races who can withstand these temperatures as well as they can.’

Their sheer numbers made Hector curious. ‘They’re not all servants, are they?’

‘No.’

‘Then, how do they survive? Isn’t it like a thousand degrees down here or something?’

‘Not quite a thousand,’ said Garovel. ‘My knowledge is a bit archaic when it comes to the Undercrust, but as I recall, the average Hun’Kui can comfortably withstand temperatures of up to eight hundred degrees. In thermoregulatory terms, they’re what’s called eurytherms, meaning they can live in an extremely wide range of temperatures. But that’s all relative to the Undercrust. If you tried to take one of them back up to the surface, they’d still freeze to death.’

‘Oh.’

‘In Fahrenheit, the surface has a temperature spectrum of three hundred degrees or so. One-fifty in either direction, that is. But the Undercrust has a much, much larger temperature spectrum, beginning around five hundred degrees and ending around four thousand.’

‘That... sounds unpleasant.’

‘Just a bit, yeah. For reference, any area that’s more than three thousand degrees is generally regarded as uninhabitable by the people here. They don’t even try to mess around with temperatures that high.’ The reaper paused. ‘Or at least, that’s how it was when I last visited a few hundred years ago. Maybe they’ve made some breakthroughs while I was gone. In fact, I hope they have. I love seeing new technology.’

‘So, wait. They can deal with TWO thousand degrees? That still sounds completely insane to me.’

Garovel pointed a bony finger upward. ‘Take a look up there.’

Hector wasn’t sure what Garovel was talking about. He only saw a dark and very distant cavern ceiling amid a visibly warm haze.

But no, wait. After a few moments, he began to see it, even through his visor. There was something there. His eyes needed time to distinguish the deeper blackness from the rest, to interpret the faint contours in the darkness.

‘Holes?’ thought Hector. There seemed a few of them. Maybe five or six--he couldn’t be sure. They must’ve been gigantic to be visible at this distance.

‘Yes,’ said Garovel. ‘Heat funnels, to be precise.’

‘Funnels?’ Hector vaguely recalled one of the reapers mentioning such a thing when he’d first learned of the Undercrust’s existence.

‘It’s an absolutely ancient technique. Perhaps the oldest method, even.’

He still wasn’t quite sure he understood. ‘Oldest method of what, exactly?’

‘Of creating survivable conditions here. Of colonization, that is.’

Hector blinked.

‘The invention of heat funneling--down here? Historically speaking, it’s on par with the invention of agriculture. Its importance and influence to civilization here can’t really be overstated.’

‘Wow, uh. Okay. How does it work?’

‘It’s pretty simple. Have you ever heard the phrase “heat rises?”’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, that’s a lie.’

‘What?’

‘Or at least, it’s not the whole truth. Really, heat just flows from an area of high concentration to an area of low concentration. From hot to cold. Until both areas are the same temperature. It’s part of nature’s eternal pursuit of equilibrium. We only think of heat as “rising” because heat affects the density of matter, and matter with a low density will generally get pushed up by matter with a high density. That’s why a rock sinks in water, and oil rises above it. But anyway, the point is, heat often gets conflated with the rising movement created by changes in density, even though heat itself is not prone to any particular direction.’

‘...I feel like I should’ve known this, already.’

‘Eh, you probably did, on some level. It’s fairly intuitive. And if not, well. That’s why I’m here, right? Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

‘You’re not gonna call me stupid again?’

‘Oh, yeah. You’re stupid.’

‘Ugh.’

‘Thanks for reminding me.’

‘Happy to help.’

‘Anyway, what was I talking about?’

‘Uh. Heat funneling?’

‘Right, right. So, ah, okay. Everything I just explained is an important part of how these cities down here maintain relatively safe temperatures. It’s hard for me to tell, since I can’t actually feel temperature, myself, but at a guess, I’d say that the streets of Babbadelo here are hovering around four or five hundred degrees.’

‘Okay, but how does the funneling actually work?’ said Hector. ‘I mean, where does the heat go?’

‘Oh, the heat is transferred into a “cooler,” which is an area where someone--likely a servant or team of servants--is working around the clock to maintain a low temperature. It would be a very tightly-controlled environment. They used to just be caves that had been lined with loads of heat shielding materials, but they might be different now. I’m curious to see one, but I don’t know if we’ll get the opportunity. We didn’t come down here for a tour, after all.’

‘Hmm. But, uh... so these servants who are keeping that place cold... uh... are they not in the city itself? Or...?’

‘Well, they could be, I suppose, but they’re probably not. The idea behind heat funneling was to construct a vast network that could cool many cities, without ever making it so that any one city was entirely reliant upon any one cooler--the logic being that, if, for whatever reason, a cooler failed, then the other coolers in the network would be able to pick up the slack.’

‘Smart.’

‘Before funneling was invented, it was just as you said. Very powerful servants would create “safe zones,” and everywhere else was pretty much off limits.’

That made Hector want to ask what happened so long ago to make people migrate all the way down here in the first place, but someone bumped into him before he could formulate the question.

A loud group of Hun’Kui were crowding around a young Rainlord on his right, and even though Hector couldn’t tell what they were saying, their intentions seemed apparent enough from the way they were pushing into the comparatively small entourage of Rainlords.

The body language, the shouting, the unprovoked aggression--Hector had seen this plenty of times before in Atreya. Without even thinking, he flicked his wrist and encased every single one of them in iron.

The commotion died instantly, and the Hun’Kui looked around in apparent confusion, as Hector had left only their heads uncovered.

The young Rainlords that they’d been bothering all looked toward him at once, and Hector wasn’t sure what their expressions meant. Had he made a mistake? Maybe he shouldn’t have interfered. It wasn’t like the Rainlords needed--

An unfamiliar sound rang out--a heavy, piping noise that simultaneously carried a whip’s crack with it.

Pain came knifing through Hector’s chest.

The street erupted into shrieks as the crowd around the Rainlords scattered, and Hector saw several more clusters of Hun’Kui letting everyone flee around them. One was aiming at him with a long, two-handed rifle of some strange kind. Tendrils of blue smoke--or something like it--swirled up from both the tip of its barrel and the back of its apparent loading chamber.

This time, it was the Rainlords’ turn to react. Everyone bolted away from Hector, and within as much time as it took for him to turn his head, the Hun’Kui were nearly all subdued--many by crystal or metal, some by threat of a blade or gun, and the last lingering few by a hand or foot pressing them into the dirt.

Hector, however, was more concerned with the gaping hole in his chest, and thus, his suit. And despite already having the vigor required to walk in this cumbersome thing, Garovel had not been numbing his pain. And so, he felt every bit of that searing air as it rushed in and scorched his flesh, exploding up through his punctured lung and burning his throat, mouth, and nose with every breath.

His body wanted to panic, of course, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He knew Garovel’s help was imminent, and indeed, it soon arrived. All pain flew away from him as quickly as it had arrived.

But when he turned to look at Garovel, he saw that the reaper had a gaping wound, too.

‘Ah--are you alright?’ Hector asked.

‘Dandy,’ the reaper said. ‘A bit surprised, though. What the hell was that weapon?’

‘I was gonna ask you that.’

‘Ugh,’ said Garovel. ‘Y’know, when I said I loved seeing new technology, this isn’t what I had in mind.’ Black and white smoke had begun to rise from the hole in his ethereal body--an indicator that it was very slowly repairing itself, Hector knew.

Hector, remembering that heat was leaking into his suit and cooking him alive, decided to just patch the hole in the chest with iron.

‘You’ve got a hole in back, too,’ said Garovel.

And he heard the clamor of his refrigeration unit abruptly stop.

‘Oh. Good.’

‘Uh... am I just fucked now?’

‘Pretty fucked, yeah. But, hmm. Let’s see here. Hey, Asad!’

Axiolis and Qorvass were already hovering toward them with their respective families following.

‘Having trouble?’ said Axiolis.

‘Do we have someone who can repair this thing?’ asked Garovel.

Qorvass inspected the damage. ‘Ooh, I do not think so. This looks quite bad.’

‘Does it?’ said Garovel. ‘The hole’s not that big, though.’

‘Yes, but it pierced the battery.’

‘Mm. Did we bring a replacement?’

“Yes, of course,” said Asad. “I told the Duxans to load up several spares just before we left. I made sure to...” He drifted off as his expression shifted into one of recollection. “Actually, no... I never did do that, did I...?”

‘Asad, please don’t tell me you forgot,’ said Qorvass.

And to his credit, the Lord Najir didn’t tell him.

‘Argh! I asked if you’d forgotten anything important right before we left!’

“...I remembered my luggage.”

‘And, what?! You consider that progress?!’

Asad scratched his cheek and gave Hector a stiff look. “...Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Hector, feeling more amused pity than disappointment. He looked over the reapers. “But, uh... what now? I mean, uh, I don’t want to be a burden on you guys, so if it’s easier to just go on without me, then we should do that.”

‘Mm, yeah, maybe that’d be best,’ said Garovel. ‘I’ll just revive you from scratch when we’re back at Warrenhold.’

“No, no, no,” said Asad, “that will not be necessary. This is my doing, so I will make it up to you.”

“Uh, how?” said Hector.

“I will simply follow you around, making temperature-controlled armor for you,” said Asad. “Whenever it begins to melt, I’ll remake it.”

Hector bobbed his head. He supposed that would work, but it sounded like a lot of trouble to go through. He didn’t get a chance to voice his concerns, however.

“Allow me to do it,” said Zeff, still carrying the wounded Ramira in one arm.

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Asad blinked at him. “Why? It was my mistake.”

“There is a certain technique I am trying to develop,” said Zeff. “I think this might prove a good opportunity to practice it. And besides, I owe the both of you so very much. So, please.”

Asad could only return an admissive nod.

Zeff looked to Hector now. “Remove the suit,” he said. “It will only get in the way.”

A bit hesitant, Hector did as he was asked, but he needed help toward the end. He couldn’t feel any pain from the heat, but he could certainly feel the way it turned his muscles to jelly, even in spite of the regeneration’s best efforts.

Hector and Zeff found an empty side street and put some distance between themselves and everyone else.

Hector wasn’t entirely sure why this was necessary, and moreover, he was beginning to worry that he’d been suddenly drafted as Zeff’s practice dummy.

‘Would you mind explaining your work to Hector as you go?’ said Garovel, who Hector noticed was observing from a distance. ‘Truth to be told, I’ve been hoping that he would get an opportunity to learn from a fellow materializer.’

Zeff rubbed his hands together. “Very well.”

‘And don’t leave anything out,’ Garovel added. ‘Pretend he’s a total idiot who doesn’t know the most basic stuff.’

Hector frowned. He might’ve protested more, but he was starting to feel woozy and having trouble even just standing here.

Qorvass decided to chime in. ‘Alternatively, pretend he’s Asad and that he’s forgotten everything he’s ever learned.’

“Hey...”

“I understand,” said Zeff.

Hector tried simultaneously to both listen carefully and also brace himself for whatever was about to happen.

“For this to work,” Zeff began, “I cannot simply douse you in freezing waters, because the extreme heat here would cause it to flash boil and explode. Which would probably kill you.”

“Oh,” Hector mumbled exhaustedly.

“Enhancing the water with soul power is a possible solution, but if I were to make a mistake, it might still flash boil and simply create an even deadlier explosion.”

“Fantastic...”

“Instead, I will begin with a cloud of steam.”

And sure enough, steam appeared all around him.

“Next, I will add a layer of water around you.”

Hector was immediately engulfed. An unsupported batch of water suspended itself in midair all around him.

And that certainly grabbed his attention. How was Zeff holding it in place? From everything Hector knew about materialization, Zeff shouldn’t have been able to control the water once it was created, and yet here it was now, holding an impossible shape and remaining almost perfectly still.

Hector would have liked to ask Zeff directly, but he didn’t think shouting through the water would work, so he just motioned with one hand for Zeff to stop and hoped the man would take his meaning.

Zeff seemed to.

Hector relayed his question to Garovel.

‘Hector would like to know how you’re able to hold this water in place.’

Zeff annihilated the water around Hector’s so that the young lord could hear him. “I am applying a counter-force technique,” he said.

‘Are you talking about a velocity state?’ said Garovel.

“No, but that is the first step. I apply an upward velocity to my creation, which counters the downward effect of gravity.”

“I’ve tried doing that,” said Hector. “It never works, because gravity is a constant force, and I can only apply velocity once.”

“You are correct,” said Zeff. “That is what makes this technique more difficult. The key is to think in layers. Yes, you can only apply a velocity state once per creation, so the solution is to break your work up into many creations. Layers.”

Hector’s brow rose. “Oh...”

“With each layer, you apply a slightly stronger velocity state, because each new layer must not only counteract gravity but also support the layer on top of it, which has begun to be affected by gravity.”

Hector had very nearly forgotten to keep listening, having felt for a moment as if Zeff had just handed his brain a light bulb. Layers! Of course!

As excited as the idea’s potential made him, however, he did have concerns. “That sounds insanely hard. You’d have to constantly be applying higher and higher velocity states, or it’d completely fall apart, wouldn’t it?”

Zeff gave an affirming nod. “Applying a counter-force like this for an extended period of time is a good way of measuring a materializer’s overall skill level. Even the most powerful servants in the world will eventually have difficulty creating high enough velocity states to keep their work perfectly still.”

“I see...”

Zeff blinked as if suddenly remembering something, and then he said, “Oh, but that is merely the way that I am doing it. It is not the way that it should be done.”

Hector cocked an eyebrow. “Say what?”

Zeff annihilated the water around Hector and then refreshed it. “I am purposely using the most difficult method possible, because, as I mentioned earlier, I am trying to further develop my skills. But, ah--I should explain that, when working with layers to achieve perfect stillness, it is certainly not necessary to continuously strengthen the velocity states indefinitely. I am doing that because I am adding each new layer to the bottom while removing them from the top, which makes the acceleration due to gravity endless--or at least, until terminal velocity becomes a factor, at which point, in order to maintain the training regiment, you would want to--or, ah, no, that’s just going to confuse you. Um. Very well. So, as I was saying, if--ah--if you were to simply add each new layer to the top and remove from the bottom, the technique becomes much simpler to maintain.”

By now, Hector was just staring with wide eyes. “Uh...”

Zeff destroyed his water again, but instead of refreshing it immediately, he rubbed his forehead. “As a means of training, my method is ideal, but for general use, ah--you should not start by learning that. Ah, perhaps, no, we should begin with the layer-less version of this technique. Yes, and then from there, we can revisit--”

Axiolis’ sigh intervened as he floated up behind Zeff. ‘I apologize for my boneheaded servant. Knowledgeable though he may be, Zeff is not the most experienced when it comes to teaching.’

Zeff returned a flat look.

‘Hey, Asad, would you mind helping Zeff? Perhaps you could keep him from confusing poor Hector here.’

‘Oh, I highly doubt that,’ said Qorvass.

Asad gave his reaper a similar look as he stepped forward. “I would be happy to assist,” he said.

Qorvass seemed greatly amused by this. ‘Good luck, Hector!’

And Hector just kind of frowned.

“I do not require help in teaching Hector,” said Zeff.

“So you say,” said Asad, “but look at his face.”

“I know that I was, perhaps, a bit unclear, but I will do better. I know exactly where to begin now.”

“Why don’t you just let me take over for a bit. You deserve a rest.”

And for the first time that Hector had seen, Zeff actually smiled.

“Oh, shut up,” said the Lord Elroy.

“I’m only thinking of your well-being,” said Asad, smirking now as well.

“Why don’t you stand back and observe? Perhaps you’ll learn even more than Hector.”

“Oho! Now THAT is an amusing thought--especially considering the fact, as I recall, our record is still 133 to 131 in my favor.”

“Hmph, that means nothing. The last time we fought was four years ago.”

“It hardly matters,” said Asad. “There exists no universe in which your skill is superior to mine.”

“Aside from this one, perhaps.”

Garovel chimed in for a private word. ‘I’m not sure if they actually want to teach you, or if they just enjoy competing with one another.’

Water reappeared around Hector, this time surrounded by glass, but the two men didn’t stop arguing.

Well, at least it was slightly cooler now. He wondered what the other Rainlords were up to. The street had emptied of all bystanders a while ago, so he looked around for Dimas and soon saw him standing next to Horatio Blackburn and Salvador Delaguna, along with a slew of others that Hector recognized but couldn’t name. One of them might’ve been Zeff’s sister, but he wasn’t sure.

They seemed to be talking to one of the Hun’Kui that Hector had encased in iron.

That was good. Hector hoped they were making better progress than he was. With the sudden commotion about trying to not melt to death, he hadn’t even been able to think about why they’d been attacked. Perhaps it had just been a misunderstanding. Looking back, he supposed he had kinda helped escalate the situation.

He hoped they wouldn’t be upset with him. Something to worry about later, he supposed.

He turned back to Zeff and Asad.

They were still bickering. Only now, both of their reapers had joined in.

“Uh, guys...?”

They didn’t hear him.

“Guys...”

Still nothing.

He turned to Garovel.

‘Go on. You’ve got this.’

‘But...’

‘C’mon, Hector, you can do it. Command their attention as the Lord Darksteel of Warrenhold.’

Well, shit. When Garovel put it like that, Hector didn’t even want to argue.

Alright.

He took a moment to deliberate, then started decorating the two men in iron paraphernalia. Iron spectacles for Asad, a dangling pocket watch for Zeff, a waistcoat for Asad, and as soon as Zeff paused in apparent surprise, Hector popped an iron umbrella into his hand.

They both looked at him.

“Are you guys ready yet?” He added a top hat to Asad and a monocle to Zeff, making sure to hook it around the ear so it didn’t fall off.

“My apologies,” said Zeff.

“Mine as well,” said Asad.

Hector paused, then gave Asad a walking cane, and Zeff, a curly mustache with a strap around to the back of his head.

“Stop that.”

“What are you doing?” said Asad.

And at the question he’d been hoping for, Hector couldn’t help smiling just a little. “I was just trying to help you start acting like lords again.”

There came a brief silence, and Hector worried he might’ve pissed them off. Then Garovel exploded with laughter.

The reaper’s amusement infected a few of the others, even getting to Axiolis and Qorvass, apparently.

For their part, however, Zeff and Asad did not look altogether pleased as they began walking toward him in unison.

“The young lord wishes to learn,” said Zeff.

“Then it is our duty to teach,” said Asad.

And so they taught. For quite a long while, in fact. And arguably, at times, against Hector’s will.

First, Zeff completed the technique he’d been trying to demonstrate earlier. It turned out much more advanced than Hector expected.

From the cloud of steam surrounding a blanket of water, Zeff clapped a full suit of solid ice armor around Hector’s body. Then, he removed the cloud of steam, which made the blanket of water begin boiling--then hissing as it began turning to steam so quickly that the body of water looked as if it were melting into Hector.

When the water was almost all gone, the ice began disappearing as well. But it never quite did. Zeff had chosen to soul-strengthen vital areas of the ice armor; and moreover, to those areas, he had “bound” a self-regenerating condition. This was the technique that the Lord Elroy had been wishing to practice, apparently, and it resulted in an endless cloud of steam which followed Hector wherever he went--and without requiring Zeff to accompany him and maintain it, even.

Hector was suitably impressed, but Asad seemed upset that Zeff could pull such a thing off. Regardless, Hector all but demanded a full explanation for this “binding” thing that Zeff was using.

Asad took the liberty of explaining. “Essentially, it is a highly advanced memory technique which requires years of meditative training.”

That caught Hector’s attention.

“It allows the user to convert a task which normally requires active concentration into a task which does not.”

Hector’s brow rose as he tried to imagine that.

‘Oh, hey, I’m familiar with that technique,’ said Garovel. ‘Even non-servants can do it, to an extent, no?’

“What?” said Hector. “Really?”

“Yes,” said Asad.

‘Speaking is a good example,’ said Garovel. ‘Normally, it requires active concentration, but it’s certainly possible to hone one’s ability to speak without thinking. Rote memorization is one way to accomplish it, but you can also learn to just babble words generically while thinking about completely unrelated things or nothing at all.’

“Wow,” said Asad. “You explained it better than I was going to.”

‘Heh heh.’

“I wish you wouldn’t boost his ego like that,” said Hector.

‘Oh, come on, I haven’t gotten to explain anything this whole time.’

Beyond that, Zeff and Asad also lectured him on a few things he already knew about. Temperature manipulation, visualization, position and velocity states--the fundamentals, they called them. He didn’t mind listening to their perspectives. If anything, it helped reinforce a few things in his head.

They made him practice, too. That was probably the part that he enjoyed the least, and the part that they clearly enjoyed the most. They made him try his hand at a suspended iron cube, using layers like Zeff had described, but it quickly descended into a jiggling mess that could scarcely stay afloat, let alone hold its shape.

After laughing at him vengefully, however, they were courteous enough to teach him an easier method of accomplishing a similar feat. Rather than using layers, he could simply create an object in midair, and then “grow it” straight upward at a speed equivalent to the acceleration of gravity. From there, he needed only keep annihilating it from the bottom while continuing to grow it from the top.

Of course, it wasn’t truly still, like Zeff’s water had been. Hector could see the iron moving in place--and feel it, too, when he ran his finger across it--but the overall shape was almost trivial to maintain. It only took Hector a few seconds to get a feel for the acceleration of gravity, and then, like magic, he had it down.

Also like magic, he found it quite fun to stare at. He marveled at the iron cube hovering over the palm of his hand, feeling like a genuine sorcerer. But then again, he supposed he kind of was one--and had been this whole time, perhaps.

He was going to be playing around with this a lot, he felt. A perpetually falling-yet-stationary object. He wondered if it had any practical applications. He couldn’t think of any, at the moment, but... hell, even if it didn’t have any, that’d be okay, he supposed. The technique just had a kind of elegant simplicity to it, and he was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t thought of it himself. And a bit surprised that Garovel hadn’t known of it.

There was also another technique that they had been mentioning--something they called “mapping,” which Zeff seemed to finally be getting around to explaining, but as luck would have it, an interruption arrived before he could.

The other Rainlords had grown tired of waiting around for them and wished to proceed on, and Hector couldn’t really blame them. By now, they’d probably interrogated every single one of the Hun’Kui who’d assaulted them.

‘Shall we continue this later?’ said Garovel.

“Very well,” said Zeff, as the group began walking together. “In the meantime, work on your precision-crafting.”

“And temperature manipulation,” Asad added.

“Ah, yes.”

“If you can make a falling object float in place so easily, then your ability should already be more than strong enough to manipulate temperatures. It is just a matter of raising your skill level to match your raw power.”

Hector tried to take those words to heart. After so many failed attempts on his own, he’d been growing discouraged and thinking that he just wasn’t strong enough to manipulate his iron’s temperature yet, but clearly, they knew better than he did. He just had to keep at it.

When they finally rejoined the other Rainlords, Hector’s newfound status as a walking rain cloud was enough to earn more than a few looks. But at least it was quieter than that damn refrigeration suit. The steam did cause a kind of low hissing, but it wasn’t so bad, comparatively. Hector was already getting used to it.

Either that, or perhaps Zeff had muffled the noise, somehow. The man had managed to ensure that Hector’s eyes were never covered too much, so maybe that was possible, too. After everything he’d seen Zeff do and heard him say, Hector had come to have quite a lot of faith in the man’s mastery over materialization.

As the Rainlords made their way through the streets of Babbadelo again, it was Mevox, reaper to Lord Salvador Delaguna, who began explaining what they’d learned from the Hun’Kui.

‘So the local government here is in complete chaos,’ said Mevox. ‘Seems our arrival here is badly timed.’ He paused for a low chortle. ‘Or, AMAZINGLY timed.’

‘You are beginning to sound like a lunatic again,’ said Iziol, the reaper to Dimas.

‘I don’t need to hear that from YOU,’ said Mevox. ‘Anyway, like I was saying, this place is in chaos, right now, and the reason for it is dick-shittingly incredible.’

‘Ugh,’ said Iziol. ‘MUST you speak that way?’

‘Yes! Now quit interrupting me!’

‘The reason is a treasure hunt.’

‘Oh, you thunder-stealing bastard!’

“Treasure hunt?” said Asad.

‘Rumors are swirling that--’

‘No, shut up!’ said Mevox. ‘Rumors are swirling that there’s a crazy treasure trove somewhere around here! Something that’s been thought lost for centuries!’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Qorvass. ‘Centuries? You’re not talking about the Hand of Arkos, are you?’

‘Actually, no, I’m not,’ said Mevox.

‘Oh,’ said Qorvass. ‘Well, forget I said anything, then.’

Axiolis chimed in now. ‘Are you talking about the Shifting Spear of Logante?’

‘Nope, not that, either.’

‘What about the Lost Library of Erudia?’ tried Garovel.

‘Are you kidding? Why would that be here?’

‘I dunno. That’s why I asked.’

‘Ooh!’ said Iziol. ‘Is it the Repeating Discs of Karugetti?’

‘Nope, that’s not--wait, what? You already know what it is!’

‘I just wanted to participate.’

Garovel tried again. ‘How about the Crown Jewels of Yena Maria?’

‘Still nope.’

‘Is it the Golden City of Arnuwe?’

‘No.’

‘The Golden City of Pomurnen?’

‘No.’

‘The Golden City of--’

‘It’s not one of the golden cities. Those probably don’t even exist.’

‘Hey, don’t be like that.’

‘I do not suppose it is the Fountain of Lhutwë, is it?’

‘Oh, wow, no. Could you imagine?’

‘I could, yes.’

‘What about the Daring Doll of Damian?’

‘That dumb shit?! Thank god it’s not that!”

‘How about the Undulating Arch-Throne?’

Mevox broke for a hearty laugh, then said, ‘Oh, I wish. That would be amazing.’

‘Could it be the Rolling Fists of Chaos?’

‘Nope.’

“Perhaps you should give them a hint,” offered Asad.

‘No!’ they said in unison.

‘Be quiet, Asad.’

Their game continued for quite a while, and as much as he would have liked to know more about the ancient treasures of the world, Hector found it difficult to keep listening to them just endlessly naming things.

But it reminded him. Didn’t they already have some legendary treasure with them? His eyes went to the bag on Asad’s back.

He could still sense the Shards there. In fact, he’d been sensing them this whole time and just kind of gotten used to the feeling. For the most part. It was like a slow, gentle pulse that existed underneath everything. Easy to overlook when he wasn’t focused on it, but always there, like a heartbeat.

He’d yet to mention this to Garovel, as it had simply slipped his mind, but clearly, he needed to.

‘...Is it the Sosho’Diyu?’ said Axiolis.

‘Yes!’ Mevox finally said. ‘That’s it! You got it!’

‘Ha!’

‘Aww...’

“What is this Sosho’Diyu, then?” asked Zeff.

Mevox was eager to answer. ‘It’s supposedly the final resting place of one of the greatest thieves in history. He was so great that no one ever learned his name, in spite of the fact that he stole enough money to bankrupt five kingdoms.’

“Wow,” said Zeff.

‘Is that all you know of it?’ said Axiolis.

‘Uh,’ said Mevox. ‘Yeah, why?’

‘Because that is not the whole story.’

‘Oh? Do go on.’

‘The Sosho’Diyu is a term from the Aidai language. In Mohssian, it roughly translates to “the Grave of the Underworld.”’

‘Oh... I’m guessing there’s a reason for that, huh?’

‘Yes,’ said Axiolis. ‘This thief, as you said, was unknown, but the story also goes on to say that he stole something so immeasurably valuable that the Gates of Hell opened, and the God of Death came to claim it from him.’

A beat passed as, apparently, no one knew what to say to that.

‘Huh,’ said Mevox. ‘Well, that’s a bit of a mood killer.’

After that, the reapers continued on discussing ancient treasures, some they’d already mentioned, some they hadn’t. Regardless, Hector found it difficult to keep listening. The pulse of the Shards had his attention again.

Or, in a way, it felt almost like they wanted his attention.

Then again, maybe they did. They did have a mind of their own, after all. Maybe Rasalased wanted to talk to him or something.

Now there was a thought.

He wanted to consult Garovel about it, but the reaper was still conversing with the others.

So instead, he found himself saying, “Hey, uh, Asad...”

The Sandlord turned to look at him.

He wondered how to broach the subject without sounding like a lunatic. “Uh... I, uh... I forgot to ask you earlier. Were you and Qorvass able to talk with Rasalased?”

Hector had, of course, already told them about meeting the Dry God. As soon as he’d returned the Shards to Asad, it was the first thing that came up. And to say that Asad and Qorvass were surprised, would be an understatement. Rather, they had required about an hour to fully process that bit of information, asking disbelieving questions intermittently, not all of which Hector and Garovel were able to answer.

And so, when Asad looked at him now with an expression that was equal parts doubt and disappointment, Hector understood why. “No,” said Asad, “we haven’t managed it, yet.”

That was strange. Hector thought it would be easy for Asad, now that they’d “woken” Rasalased up or whatever, but maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe that encounter with him really had a been a freak accident, after all. He did recall Chergoa mentioning something about a “hyper anomaly,” though he was pretty sure she’d been joking.

Whatever the case, it didn’t change what he wanted to ask, here and now.

“Would you mind letting me hold one of the Shards again?” said Hector.

Asad hesitated. “Why?”

“I... I think Rasalased might be trying to talk to me.”

“...What makes you think that?”

“Uh... it might sound a bit hard to believe.”

“I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

Hector frowned. There was no dancing around it, he supposed. “I can sense the Shards. Somehow. Like... like they’re alive. And. Sort of. Calling to me? Does that make sense?”

‘Not really,’ said Qorvass, who’d apparently started listening.

The reapers had finally stopped blabbering on about treasure, Hector realized.

Asad was already digging through his bag, however. He pulled out a Shard. “Here.”

Qorvass looked noticeably more reluctant than his servant, and the pair of them paused in silence briefly, perhaps exchanging words between themselves.

Hector accepted Asad’s offer. His cloud-coated hand touched the Shard, and a shiver shot up the length of his arm and straight into his brain.

And a sense of familiarity washed over him.

But nothing else happened, seemingly.

He’d stopped walking with the group, he realized, and began to feel a bit light-headed. He needed to pay better attention to his surroundings, he told himself, rubbing his forehead. He’d been letting himself get distracted way too easily, especially in this new and dangerous place. He was supposed to be staying alert.

“Are you okay?” Asad and Qorvass had stayed back with him. The others had stopped just ahead of them, and Garovel was floating over now as well.

“Y-yeah...” He inhaled deeply, thinking. The daze in his head was clearing. He couldn’t hear Rasalased. But maybe he needed to initiate the conversation. He wasn’t sure how else to begin, so he just tried to concentrate on the Shard, to think into it. ‘...Hello?’

‘...Hector?’ came the response.

And he blinked. Multiple times. Because, somehow, he could immediately tell who he was talking to. And it wasn’t Rasalased. It was Emiliana Elroy.