Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS
Triezal was sitting cross-legged on the cell’s floor, extremely alert. He had been exercising when he had felt the distant rumbling, and had set himself down to better feel the vibrations which passed through the stack’s structure. Because of this, he had a very clear understanding that something unusual was happening within the sect.
The first great vibrations had clearly been that of explosives, but after that, there were lesser sensations. Perhaps, he thought, it could be that of a great host of people moving around all at once.
All he could think was that either there was some sort of accident, or the sect had been attacked. It was possible that Deuvar had ordered an attack if he discovered Triezal’s captivity, but knowing the man, Triezal was certain he would have attempted to negotiate his release instead.
As he considered this, Triezal heard a clicking noise at the entrance to the cell, and watched as the hatch steadily rose into the wall, revealing a figure standing behind the aperture. The individual was clearly a Seiyal, and a man at that. His pale skin and blonde buzzcut spoke of that, and he was garbed in the black and red robes whose nature Triezal knew all too well.
Triezal had wondered whether he would be rescued by this man, and it seemed that possibility had been the one to bear fruit.
Triezal smiled wearily as he rose to his feet, approaching his savior.
”Would you prefer if I called you Mung, or would your real name be better?”
The spy known as Mung Seo chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
“I’ve lived with this identity for over a decade now, Magister. It would feel strange to use the identity I’ve discarded. You may call me Mung.”
“I’ll do so, then. More importantly, what’s going on?” he asked. “An attack?”
Mung nodded grimly.
“The Hadal Clan suddenly attacked. I felt this would be our best opportunity.”
Triezal frowned. That didn’t make sense to him. Why would the clan have decided to attack the Redwater Sect while they were currently facing off with the Heirs? He knew that the Riverfiend had not set up a proper alliance with his faction, as otherwise he would have long been released already.
“Why would the clan have- at this time?”
“It seems to have been the work of the Ceirran faction,” Mung replied.
Triezal’s mouth widened into an ‘o’ shape, signaling his understanding. He then smiled.
“The work of that Supreme Elder of theirs, no doubt. Good, this is the perfect time for them to be infighting. Angering the Redwater Sect as well is simply a bonus. But why now? Is your Sect Leader gone?”
Mung nodded.
“The other Elders as well, actually. They’re attacking our headquarters currently.”
Triezal chuckled.
“I wouldn’t have thought my opportunity would come when they attacked us. But this is good. If he was here, we would need to escape immediately, but this way we have an opportunity.”
Mung frowned at Triezal’s words.
“Shouldn’t we be escaping? I don’t doubt that man will kill me if he captures us.”
Triezal shook his head.
“We can’t leave just yet. We need to get my equipment back.”
“Is it really that important, Magister?”
The other man’s lack of understanding did not surprise Triezal. After all, only an extremely small portion of the station’s inhabitants knew about the weapon that he carried. But regardless of the risk of Mung finding out and spreading the information, Triezal knew he needed his knife back. He could not let it fall into the hands of anybody else, not if he could help it.
He felt that such weapons should not exist, but if they did, it was best if they were in his possession.
“It is,” he said, leaving the matter at that. “The Riverfiend has an office, right? Show me where it is.”
Triezal noticed Mung spend a moment of hesitation, but eventually he nodded.
“Right this way, Magister.”
The pair had barely started to walk before they were startled by a feminine voice emerging from the walls around them, as if a ghost were present in the corridor with them.
“For the record, we aren’t storing it in his office,” spoke the voice of the Shade known as Rachel.
Hearing it, Triezal sighed. He had known that the Shade would certainly know of his escape, but he had been hoping that she might be too busy to interfere. Mung continued to search around, his body going into a martial stance as if expecting the woman to be physically present in some way. It struck Triezal that the other man had not been informed of her true nature.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“She’s not actually here, she’s just using speakers in the walls,” he explained, before responding to her comment. “I’m afraid that I’m not feeling obliged to trust your words on the matter at the moment, Rachel.”
She snickered at his words, and Triezal felt an oncoming headache.
“I just figured I would spare you from wasting your effort, but do as you will, Triezal.”
“Is there something you wish to achieve here? He asked, feeling irate. He found it difficult to forget the hours of torment the woman had heaped upon him. Triezal had been trained to resist torture, and had not shared any information he was unwilling to, but it had still been an unpleasant experience.
He got the feeling that she had done most of that simply because she enjoyed it. Her collection of unpleasant music was truly tremendous.
“You’re going to escape anyway,” she replied, “so I figured we might be able to do a small exchange. I’ll tell you where we kept your guns and equipment, or at least what remains of it. In return, you kill some of the invaders for us. What do you think?”
Triezal considered the offer. While it was surprising, it wasn’t that strange of a request. Despite his capture, their forces were not truly in conflict, and given the logic she had underlined, he could understand the train of thought which might lead to such an offer.
“And my knife?” he asked.
Rachel chuckled again as she heard this.
“Nice try, but no. That we have stored separately, and I will not be sharing where. I don’t expect you’ll have the opportunity to find it, however.”
This was in line with Triezal’s expectations. If she had told him where it was, it would immediately make him far more suspicious of the offer.
“Fine, then,” said Triezal, after a moment of consideration. “After I acquire the weapons, we can deal with anyone we find on our path.”
“Perfect. Your equipment is in Cyrus’s office.”
So that was her game, Triezal thought. She talked him into agreeing to assist her while only informing him of something he would soon learn anyway. The idea of her ‘outsmarting’ him did not bother Triezal, however. He might have taken the time to kill any Hadal Clansmen he ran into, anyway. They were his enemies, after all.
“S-should we go?” asked Mung Seo, face still lacking in pallor. Triezal found he couldn’t rightly blame the man for it. He thought his rescue of Triezal would make him irreconcilable enemies with a pair of spirit refiners, and wished to quickly be out of the district, and into safer territory.
He lacked an understanding of the bigger picture, but Triezal felt little need to enlighten the man.
“Show me the way,” he said, promptly following behind the martial artist.
The Sect Leader’s office hatch slid open easily after, with Mung’s assistance, Triezal opened the hidden access panel and fiddled with the magnetic locks until it released. It was a trick that could get through most consumer grade hatches in the station. Personally, Triezal would have used better defenses for a place such as this, but he suspected the reasoning behind it was budgetary in nature.
Cyrus’s office, thought Triezal, was actually rather similar to Deuvar’s. While Cyrus’s was well upholstered and furnished, it was also devoid of any personal additions, and was clearly not the sort of place where one spent a considerable amount of their time. It was simply too pristine, lacking in wear.
As promised, resting in a corner of the room on a small table was Triezal’s equipment, looking much worse for wear than it had the last time. His chestplate was fractured, the gauntlets dented. One of his shin guards was missing, while the other had a deep gouge running just to the side of its center. Both of the pistols were intact, but there were only about twenty rounds left. Each of the items had seen far better days. When he returned to Little Celah, he would need to get them all refurbished one by one. It could be a quite expensive and timely process, one he was not looking forward to.
After inspecting his equipment, Triezal and Mung quickly scoured the office for any potential hiding places that a dagger such as his might have been hidden. Five minutes later, Triezal finally felt that they had exhausted all the possibilities. As Rachel had promised, it seemed to have been stored elsewhere. For all hew knew, Triezal thought, it was stored on the Riverfiend’s own person. If that was the case, he would likely have little to no chance to take it back at all.
Giving up on finding the item immediately, Triezal began to don his equipment despite its current state. Before he had even finished buckling the first gauntlet, a small buzzing sound filled the room, and Triezal glanced over to see Mung reach down to his terminal. The device was of the Seiyal design, as befitted the man’s surface identity. Upon viewing the message he had received, Mung’s eyes widened involuntarily, a factor which drew even more of Triezal’s attention.
“Is something the matter?” Triezal asked.
Mung looked up to meet his eyes, and fumbled his words for a second with a dry mouth.
“It seems that Juen Hadal is present in this very building. He’s leading the attacking force.”
Triezal narrowed his eyes, a slight smile crossing his face as he buckled another strap, ensuring that his gauntlet was firmly set in place. It had taken him mere moments to use this information to develop a plan. The idea was simple, but to him it seemed perfect for his current goals.
“Is that so?” he asked. “Since you’re undoubtedly listening, Rachel, how about I offer another deal?”
“Oh?” she asked, her voice clearer and better audible in this location than it was in the hallway. Triezal was not quite sure whether this was because this room was enclosed, or whether it simpler had better speakers installed.
“How about this?” he laughed. “If you tell me where you put my knife, I’ll spare him for you.”
Rachel’s disdain was clear from her voice alone.
“I’m not so foolish. There’s no guarantee that you would even succeed.”
“So he truly is here. Let me guess,” Triezal mused, “you wish to capture him and ransom him back to the clan. Say, if he’s restrained, how difficult do you think it would be to kill him?”
A threat was clear in Rachel’s voice.
“You’ll find the matter more difficult than you expect, Magister.”
Triezal smiled.
“I’m thinking you’ll be the one to find yourself in difficulty, soon enough.”
This time, the Shade chose not to reply.
Torture in the Pantheonic Territory: [Most advanced civilizations largely spurn torture’s use, as it has been known to be very effective at acquiring useless, false, or unusable information. That said, the threat of torture alone can be effective at times, so few forces are willing to do away with it altogether. The practice is in theory illegal, but both the Justice Office and the underworld organizations use it when needed. For this reason, certain groups such as the Epon train each of their higher rank members in how to resist torture, and the Staiven have even tested brain alteration that allows a Staiven operative to diminish their pain and discomfort by as much as needed, so as to increase their tolerance. In fact, over half of the current major corporations of the territory require personnel in certain roles to undertake such treatments, with stipulations in their contract detailing punishments to occur to them or their estate if any confidential information is leaked.]