“Are you sure I can trust you with this?”
“You could trust me with your life!” Baldwin exclaimed emphatically. “I’m more than capable.”
Remus exhaled in a motion that wasn’t quite a sigh. Baldwin’s apprenticeship would be ending today, as would Remus’ service for Eclipse. Freedom was but one trivial task away: to let Baldwin battle it out with the weakest Unbounded he could find.
He should have been ecstatic. After an entire year, he could finally do whatever it was that interested him. But why did he feel so indifferent?
Remus glanced down at Baldwin’s excitement, and couldn’t help but offer a smile. While the kid was tough work, it was almost impossible not to share his joy. It was a nice feeling. Perhaps he would miss this? He wasn’t quite sure.
Either way, they would have to get it over with. There was no point in dilly-dallying.
“Well, if you say so.” Remus looked over to where a ring of blue fire confined the most pathetic-looking creature he had ever seen.
In essence, it was a fish with legs. Just another of Infinity’s absurd creations Remus would gain nothing from questioning. It had three bulging amber eyes, all looking in separate directions. The body of the fiend bulged like a balloon filled with too much helium, as if any second now, it would explode into a pile of blood and guts.
It was hardly the equivalent of an Enkindled; truly the bottom of the barrel of Unbounded. Waddling around the enclosed space, it reminded Remus of a chicken. He almost feared that the creature would accidentally wander into his fires, and do Baldwin’s job for him.
With a subtle use of his Mark, Remus freed the walking fish from its infernal prison.
Baldwin immediately hopped into position, holding a wooden sparring sword in both hands. Remus raised an eyebrow. He was curious at how the boy would use the abilities of his clan. The Moon and Night Sect wasn’t one he encountered often. Would he even use his god’s power? A few whacks of that blunt sword would bludgeon the Unbounded to death, but even that seemed a little barbaric. Even for a child as bloodthirsty as Baldwin made himself out to be. When Remus had first told him about this final trial, he couldn’t believe how excited he’d gotten. Apparently there was something indescribably exciting about killing a fiend, no matter how weak.
It was still early afternoon, but that didn’t stop Baldwin from enveloping his sword in an inky black. The weapon immediately transformed into an ebony blade so sharp, Remus couldn’t help but imagine an invisible waterstone rubbing against it at all times.
With one swift slash, and before the fish could even comprehend it was occurring, Baldwin sliced the fiend into two.
Remus stopped and stared. That was it. The end of the apprenticeship, and, in an even tougher pill to swallow, the end of his sentence. He could hop up and fly away from the city right that second, and nobody could say a word.
Well, okay, there would be a mountain of paperwork he’d have to sign first, and leaving Baldwin here alone with a sharp object probably wasn’t the best idea.
He strolled over, patting Baldwin on the shoulder like a proud father. “Good job buddy.”
Baldwin beamed up at him as if all was right in the world. “I did it!”
Remus smiled. “Yes you-”
There was the sound of ripping water, and before Remus knew what he was doing, he grasped Baldwin, shoved him behind him, and turned around.
Obsidian gauntlets materialised across his fists faster than he could think. Ahead of them both, a portal of spilling water appeared. Out of it, one very large, very dumb-looking Unbounded leapt into being. An exact copy of the Unbounded Baldwin had just chopped into two; small enough to have already dispersed back into its Infinity.
The producer of the Unbounded had arrived. Remus wanted to slap himself, but with his hands plastered with igneous rock, doing so would have probably given him a concussion. Instead, before the oversized fish could lash out, Remus stretched out one of his hands.
It ended as quickly as it had begun.
The gauntlet shattered into pieces, a beam of plasma blasting out. Before he could even take note of the destruction, Remus grabbed Baldwin and flew back several metres, hovering in the air. The Unbounded was dead, alright, but he had destroyed a large chunk of the parapets in the process.
Only when the smoke had cleared, and Remus was absolutely sure they were both safe, did he bring them both back to the ground.
“What was that?” Baldwin asked, between laborious breaths. His face was the portrait of fear.
“Unbounded can produce other Unbounded just like them.” Remus explained, needing a moment to compose himself. “It’s how they reproduce. They’re connected to their offspring too. So when we killed that tiny fiend-”
“We caught the attention of the larger, stronger original.” Baldwin finished. “Does that always happen when you kill Unbounded?”
“No. Not normally.” Remus blinked. “It’s like a one in five hundred chance. Most strong Unbounded have so many connections to their offspring, that they don’t think twice at one of their weaker fiends disappearing. We just got unlucky. Take that as a lesson.”
Remus strolled over to the smoking, crumbling wall of debris that stood where a few battlements had, only seconds previously. He sighed for real this time. How was he going to explain this? If this extended his service time . . .
Of course, a guard arrived within a second.
At least it was one he was on good terms with. Renee was of the Memory Clan — a middle-aged woman who took this position as her idea of ‘retirement.’
“What on Descent . . .?”
“My apologies.” Remus scrambled for the right words. “I was taking my apprentice Baldwin through the final steps of his training, and — and things got out of hand.”
She looked at him sternly, the way only a woman of many years, and of much wisdom, can. “You’re lucky it was me who came.”
Across the side of her neck, Renee’s Mark glowed a blinding white. It showcased her Goddess, Griselle, staring right at you, looking alien, and very much the godly being she was. Her brain, containing an encyclopaedic knowledge of the past, was illustrated in beautiful detail, above two eyes that Remus found it daunting to merely glance at.
“You’re evil, making an old woman strain so much . . .”
All around, like time itself was reversing, the destroyed scene slowly returned to normality. The scattered, destroyed brick was dragged slowly back together; smoke billowed back into the charred ground whence it came, and every other discrepancy was gradually resolved. All the while, the original, pristine state of the battlements was superimposed over, like a blueprint on how the place should look.
After a minute, Renee swept her hands clean in a job well done. “There. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking a well deserved break.”
Of course, Renee could only make it five steps before some other disaster snagged her attention. “Are you seeing this?”
“Seeing what?” Remus asked, answering his own question with but a glance over the battlements.
Just as there had been a mere Duration ago, more visitors were rushing into the city. Remus would have thought nothing of it, but after one glance at their uniforms . . .
“We have to stop them!”
Renee gave him a look as if suggesting there was something seriously wrong with Remus. He couldn’t muster the will to care. With a flare of his Mark, a turquoise flame enveloped him like a trusted outfit.
He flew over to the newcomers, their gold attires sticking out like sore thumbs. Surely the Wealth Clan knew better than that? Had no one thought to put on a disguise, or even to suggest wearing one? Regardless, it mattered little — their overtness just made Remus’ job easier.
Like a comet smiting them both with divine power, Remus crashed into the pair of them. They were Foot-Soldiers at least. He could tell that easily, based on the advanced technique of floating on riches they were using to reach Eclipse. Their aura revealed such too.
“Ah, Sir, we were wondering if you had happened to see-” the Wealth clansman took one look at Remus’ face, recognition flaring in his eyes. He had realised too late to be able to do anything.
Remus didn’t want to kill either of them. Aside from that being morally questionable, attacking anyone without warranted reason was a crime under his Oath as a guard — his set of obligations in exchange for circumventing the Divine Ground here. Even just attacking the pair of them out of the blue like this could be enough to extend his sentence. Nevertheless, that was a risk he was willing to take.
Something about the Wealth Clan’s presence here rang all sorts of alarm bells in his head.
Setting the pair on fire would be too lethal, so Remus freed his hands of any flame, up to the forearm. The rest of his body remained immersed in the hellfire — the fear that sight would instil into the clansmen was not something he was willing to give up. Remus had the feeling these two weren’t willing to answer questions truthfully, now that they knew full well who was asking. Regardless, Remus had enough warmth in his jaded heart to ask:
“What are you doing here, really? I know things aren’t going too well in First Rite. I don’t suppose right now is the best time to come visiting for leisure. Don’t you have matters in your own city to attend to?”
Gold was still swimming around the Wealth Clan duo. The pair of them looked fairly young, so Remus would feel at least a little bad for beating up Damohs’s indoctrinated youth. But at the end of the day, he was giving them a chance. This far away, he could provide them protection from Damosh.
Remus took a step closer, in what he hoped wasn’t too alarming a movement. “Damosh can’t reach you from here. You’re safe to act and think for yourselves. If you come with me, and promise to answer a few questions, we can all walk away without any trouble.”
He kept the suggestion of violence explicit, but didn’t want to sound like he wanted to hurt them. Part of him did, but Remus had at least enough self-awareness not to blame every Wealth clansman for what Damosh, and Damosh alone, had done. He disliked Edmar, of course, but while the man was a nasty piece of work, it was the King, at the end of the day, who was orchestrating all this madness.
Take out the lynchpin, take out the entire operation all together. That was how Remus saw things.
The pair didn’t say anything for a moment, poised in a battle stance, and obviously expecting a fight. Remus couldn’t deny that he was too.
Finally, the more bold of the two opened their mouth. “We’re just passing through-”
In less than the time it takes to draw a breath, the side of Remus’ hand was already colliding with their temple. A bundle of Eruptive Will was imbued into the strike. Not enough to implode the young man’s head, but carrying enough force to knock him out cold. Remus saw gold coins rushing at him, from the corner of his eye. He fueled the fires already surrounding him, turning the metal to molten.
Then, all taking place within the span of a few seconds, Remus delivered a copycat blow to the remaining man. Both bodies dropped to the floor, only a moment’s delay between them.
Enough time for Renee, with Baldwin at her side, to arrive. “You’re supposed to stay at your apprentices' side! And what the hell are you-”
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“Check their memories.” Remus said firmly, “tell me why they came here.”
Renee looked like she wanted to argue, mumbled a few words of discontent, before curiosity got the better of her. She regarded the two unconscious men, and closed her eyes.
A short pause later, they snapped back open. Her eyes were fully white, not a wick of black, or brown, or any shade you might expect to make up a pupil, present. A blank canvas for the past to paint upon.
A frown appeared on Renee’s lips.
“What?” Remus asked. “What do you see?”
Even Baldwin was utterly silent, never looking more interested in his life.
“They were given orders by some higher-ups in the Wealth Clan . . . I’m trying to listen.”
Out of all the clans scattered across Descent, Remus had to admit, the Memory Clan had the most fascinating array of abilities he had ever seen. They could reverse the effects of time, if not the time itself, in small quantities. They remembered every second of their lives with photographic accuracy, with that being either a blessing, or a curse. And perhaps most useful of all, they could peer into the memories of others. Remus assumed there were limits to all of these powers, and Renee had more access to techniques than Remus could fathom, but Renee was beyond useful to have around. Remus could see why they kept Memory Clansmen on the guards, as did the watchmen of many cities globally. Having someone who could dig into the truth of your enemies was mighty powerful.
At last, Remus blinked, and the blue pupils returned to Renee’s eyes. “They were instructed to capture anyone who had fled from First Rite. Damosh wants to stop the news of his atrocities from spreading.”
The memory of the Feast Clansmen from last Duration sprang into Remus’ mind. Ignoring his disgust at the news, Remus almost wanted to laugh at Damosh.
Trying to stop rumours from spreading was like trying to blot the sun out of the sky. Damosh really must have been out of his mind.
“We should report this.” Renee muttered to herself, looking a little out of it. “I won’t be surprised if the Wealth Clan are banned from entering.”
“Good riddance.” Remus wasn’t quite sure how to address this next part. “By the way . . . will I get into trouble for this?”
Renee glared at Remus. She moved closer until she was only an inch away, jabbing Remus with a crooked finger. “You were training Baldwin. That Unbounded approached, and from the racket you made, I came. We then saw the Wealth clansmen arrive, suspected something was fishy, and discovered their plans through mind reading them from a distance. Then we apprehended them, and had to use force when given no other option. That’s the story we tell, okay?”
Remus swallowed. “Okay.”
Renee stormed off, leaving Remus to deal with two unconscious bodies, and one very overwhelmed apprentice. Or perhaps Remus was the overwhelmed one, his mind was too disoriented to tell.
After a time, Baldwin looked from the pile of bodies, to Remus' weary face. “Long day?”
Remus murmured in agreement. “Yes. Long day.”
----------------------------------------
Back to that tiny chamber. Back to where he would spend his last night before freedom.
Remus lay in his bed, staring up at the wall, letting the thoughts fly past his consciousness like clouds drifting in the sky. He didn’t engage with any of them, but simply laid there; being. It was quite the meditative state.
He was sad to see Baldwin go, but the boy had deserved it after following his training to a tee.
Now, the unaddressed elephant in the room out for blood, there was only one question left to answer. What now?
Freedom. It was an old taste on his tongue, and one Remus found it impossible to swallow. What was there to do?
He could return to First Rite, but something told Remus he would be killed the second he walked through the entrance. Damosh had been quite jumpy lately, and Remus supposed he wasn’t in the mood for familiar faces.
The Carpentry Clan. It sickened Remus that he had hardly received word from his own family for what seemed to be millennia. They had sent letters, but they were becoming progressively fewer, and far between, as the year dragged on. He couldn’t blame them, with how tumultuous a place First Rite was becoming. Perhaps Damosh had deemed letter writing proficient for the death penalty. It wouldn’t surprise him.
Last Remus had heard, they were still debating on who the next sect leader would be; Andreas’ successor. During this year’s Day of Descension, they had even gone so far as to consult the god Arcus, who proceeded to do the verbal equivalent of shrugging — decide it amongst yourselves.
Remus longed to see them, but knew the matter was far more complex than simply knocking at their doorstep. He wondered though . . . how much danger was the Carpentry Clan in? If First Rite had really become the madhouse everybody had claimed it to be, he didn’t like his clan’s prospects.
After a sigh, Remus forced himself off his bed, dragged himself to his desk, and placed down a blank piece of parchment. He sank his quill into the ink pot, took a deep breath, and his mind went blank. Just as empty as the daunting sheet before him. He focused on his breathing, trying to control himself, but yet was still at a loss for words.
What was there to say?
With a scowl, and after writing the formal means of address, Remus jotted down a few words.
I’m a free man tomorrow.
He glared at the sentence, as if a detective staring down a criminal, waiting for them to snap under the pressure. Though this beginning seemed as good as any. He liked to keep things succinct.
Remus had hoped that after cracking the introduction, the rest of the letter would flow out of him as easily as the ink from his quill. But no. Each word printed on page was like pushing a boulder up a cliff, the resistance unbelievable.
After failing to pen a second tangible sentence, Remus sat his quill down, and stopped. Why was this so hard?
He ruminated on that for a longer time than he’d like to admit.
It didn’t feel right to send his family a letter. What kind of a person would he be, while his family was in a mortal crisis, too far to even reach, and the only helping hand he could offer was a letter?
Remus felt his heart beating faster, his breath racing, as memory after memory of Damosh’s tyranny spun around his mind. Those fleeing Feast clansmen, with Wealth Clan lackeys not far behind, like predators closing in on their prey. What if it was his family, his clan fleeing from danger?
Damosh was turning his childhood home into a slaughterhouse.
At that moment, Remus had no trouble finishing his letter. It seemed inconsequential now, in comparison to his larger problems.
To Damion, Briella, Aiden, and everybody back home,
I’m a free man tomorrow. I’ll see you soon.
Much love, and stay safe,
Remus
In less than a minute, he had it neatly packaged up, and sent to the Scholar Sect’s postal service. Though if they would still be delivering to First Rite for much longer, Remus had his doubts.
He paced back and forth across his room, his mind fragmenting into a dozen different sides. All arguing in his mental court of law.
A large part of Remus was trying very hard to stop himself from getting into even more trouble than he already was. The rest thought only of his family’s danger, of everyone in First Rite.
It mattered not that many of them had mistreated Remus for being Death-Marked — they were innocent people, for the most part, who didn’t deserve this injustice.
Again, the quarters of Remus’ consciousness duked it out in a grand battle. Some of him wanted to do nothing but wallow in his despair; a large chunk hungered for justice; and another simply wished to return to the Ambition Clan’s safety, and let history run its course.
Yet Remus knew that for someone like him, there really was only one option.
He made his decision.
A knock at the door signalled the end of the mental court session, and Remus didn’t have to speculate on who was behind the door.
“Come in.”
It felt odd to command his own commander like that: Kiran entered only a second later, the leader of the watchmen division of the guards.
He was the stereotypical strongman, old, and balding. His big beefy arms were exposed, his chainmail armour that Remus doubted he ever took off stopping at his forearms. A coil of the same material was draped down his head. He looked at Remus with a warm smile.
Kirain was a no-nonsense type of man, but had a heart to him that often pierced through the stern demeanour. Remus had enjoyed his service beneath the man, and couldn’t have hoped for a better leader.
Remus saluted. “To what do I owe this honour?”
Kirain laughed, before taking a seat on Remus' bed. “You don’t have to be so formal with me now, you know. Your service is almost over.”
“Technically I’m not free until dawn, Sir.” Remus was starting to feel like Baldwin, insisting on so many formalities. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
Kirian chuckled. “Not unless you intend on getting in any. Which I think segways nicely into what I’ve come here to ask you: what are your plans now, Remus? The entire world is wondering.”
Remus tried not to let his smile waver. “Well, I don’t know about that-”
“Well, whatever the case, I’m sure it’ll be something grand.”
Something grand. Remus hoped he didn’t look too anxious, his fingers tapping on his desk. Was he to tell Kirian his plans? It was risky: he couldn’t be certain of the man’s reaction. Regardless, Kirian wasn’t the kind of person to try and stop him, if Remus really was resolute.
“Actually,” Remus began, and Kirian inclined his head.
“Yes?”
“I’ve heard of the trouble brewing in First Rite, and I’m growing increasingly concerned for my family there. I have a lot of political influence now. I might be able to make a change.”
Kirian considered that for a moment. “That sounds like a polite way of saying you’re starting a rebellion.”
“Oh come on.” Remus sighed. “Someone has to do something! Damosh is killing people in the droves, and nobody is willing to do anything! I have the power to do something, so I must. It’s my duty.”
Remus thought this would spring into an argument, but Kirian’s warm front didn’t waver. “I can’t stop you Remus, and to be perfectly honest,” he leaned in conspiratorially, hand to his mouth, “I one hundred percent agree with what you’re saying. Damosh has had it coming for decades.”
“Thank you for understanding. It’s not like I want to do this.” Remus couldn’t tell if that was a lie. “But I have to. My family and almost everyone I’ve ever known could be in danger.”
The commander nodded morosely, before turning to the door. Remus thought that was the end of it, until that gravelly voice beckoned him over.
“Come with me Remus, there’s something I’ve been meaning to show you. Now seems like an ample opportunity.”
Sceptical, Remus did as he was bid.
Kirian led him down a long corridor, twisting through a stretch of passages that Remus himself seldom visited. The notion of this being a trap occurred to him, but that didn't seem likely. Kirian wasn’t the trickster type.
The silence became overwhelming, so Remus cleared his throat. “It’s been a pleasure, Sir, really. My trial was probably one of the worst things that ever happened to me, but you and your boys out here helped make it a whole lot better.”
Remus couldn’t see Kirian’s face, but felt the warmth radiating off his smile to know it was there.
“I’m glad.”
They stopped at another of the fort’s bland oak doorways. This one, however, required a key. Kirian fiddled with a complex lock for a moment, the resounding noise of the clanging mechanisms telling Remus enough: this room was well guarded. Of course, someone could easily blast through that wood, but Remus suspected there were more protections he couldn’t see with the naked eye. Inspecting it with his internal senses proved just that.
Kirian entered a dark room, somehow colder than the rest of the riddling tunnels. Remus waited outside for a pause, unsure what was expected of him.
“You may enter.”
If Remus was going to be killed in the dead of night, and have his organs sold on the black market, this was precisely the place he imagined that happening. Nevertheless, Kirian had never done him any harm, and thinking so harshly of the commander wasn’t like Remus. He would have to be so gracious as to trust the fellow one more time.
Remus entered a chamber, one that was the exact same size as any other room in the fortress — the designers of the place seemed to lack a kind of creative ingenuity. There was little lighting, but he could see the crates that filled the space well enough.
It was a storage facility. Mainly for food, and equipment, Remus gathered, but Kirian approached one crate with precision. He was after something. After sliding the top of the crate off, and fingering through a sheet of cloth, he unveiled some kind of shining metal.
“Don’t think that all God-Graced have a bone to pick with you Remus.” Kirian held out a long, glimmering metal chain. Remus recognised the Supreme Steel sheen within a second. “Some wanted to reward you for efforts at subduing the Right-bearers. You used a chain before, didn’t you?”
Remus nodded, not quite sure what to say. “I did. It snapped into smithereens when I fought the Supreme Fiend.”
“I’m not surprised.” Kirian chuckled. “Here, take it. It’s made out of the remains of the Supreme Fiend you and your grandfather killed.”
Remus' fingers flinched at that.
“Oh, don’t you worry. No Rot remains to seep into your bones. It was checked and tested a dozen times over. All that’s left in some of the purest, most refined Supreme Steel the world has ever seen. You’ll have a hard time breaking these, and they’ll serve as a perfect conduit for your power.”
Remus grasped onto the chains, flowing Infinity through them. His power rushed through the metal as easily as if through his own arm.
There was no precedent for it, but Remus bowed deeply at the waist. “Thank you Kirian. I’ll treasure this for life. It’ll become a family heirloom.”
Kirian simply grinned, the rictus contorting his face, like his ageing skin was cracking. “I would have loved to give it to you earlier, but I was told specifically to wait until the end of your service. The Three Pillars played a large part in putting this all together. It was meant to be a kind of light at the end of the tunnel.”
Remus couldn’t think of any better way to put it.
For the first time in a while, hope swelled in his chest. Maybe things could get better. He had more experience than ever, perhaps one of the strongest weapons in all of Descent, and a goal he’d been fostering ever since the Wealth Clan first mistreated his family.
Now, there was just work to do. Remus gripped the chain a little harder.