Chapter 76: Bedside Manners

Subject: Inis Location: Arlcada Territories - Count Kylant's Settlement "Where am I?" Inis asked the peculiar stranger at her side the moment she awoke. The room and the bed didn't belong. To Inis, who'd been sleeping out in the wilderness for years, it was easy to tell that these were not her natural surroundings. Not only that... These were drab, shabby accommodations, and the young woman with the piercing stare at her bedside didn't seemed like she belonged somewhere so filthy. The stranger followed Inis's eyes, sighed softly, and then broke out into an exasperated grin. What's that supposed to mean? "Arlcada Outskirts," the she answered softly. "This is Count Kylant's personal settlement, the head laborer's chambers." A normal person wouldn't refer to these as "chambers". A normal person wouldn't refer to a bedroom as chambers at all. Danger. "I'm remembering certain things. Are you, perhaps a..." The woman promptly nodded, smiling sweetly. "I am Fragmata, Hexaline Knight of Judgement. The knights you met earlier are out taking care of the chores. I work those poor suckers hard, and there really is a lot to do." Inis swallowed, her throat painful and dry. The Hexknight was not exactly what she would have expected. "I-" "You helped save the lives of my knights. What you did afterwards was a result of desperate circumstances. You really didn't seem to be in control of your body. Pushed past your limits, yes?" She was drawing a hazy blank. What did I do? This wasn't how a Knightmare, the name for a Knight of Judgement, was supposed to act. Inis didn't have personal experience, but they were legendarily ruthless in nature. Knightmares purged heretics, plain and simple. "You don't trust me?" Fragmata commented. "Well, I wouldn't respect you if you were naive." Then the sleepy haze lifted. She remembered weeks of arcane practice ebbing away at her confidence. The spells she reached for remained beyond her, impossible to master, but tantalizingly visible. She persisted because she needed to. Just when she was reaching her limit, the sweet satisfaction of advancement justified all her efforts. She'd acquired a number of new spells, all for a specific purpose. Before that moment came the time to practice. A lot of practice. And so Inis practiced. She practiced until she'd replenished her stockpile of blightseeds, primarily greys and greens, indicating low saturation. Then, she happened upon signs of spinner activity in her vicinity. The spinners, formally labelled the "Nexwarren", were a bizarre ecology of biologically interdependent spiders. Where there was one, there were many. The broods in this region were particularly vivacious. Functionally, the very essence of a Nexwarren brood was devoted to conquering and repurposing an environment for periodic feeding. In a twisted way, the were like the Opteresh, which were akin to a collective of winged insects. Unlike the Opteresh, which were more devoted to covering as much territory as possible, only infesting a small portion of that territory in a network of hives, the Nexwarren would instead transform their densely settled land into a single horrifying, web-laden feeding ground. She remembered thinking "Why have these spinners expanded? They should be eradicated before they get a chance to dig in." And so the spinner hunt began, drawing Inis ever closer to her present location: the doomed outer bastion of Arlcada. It was doomed long ago, and no one was supposed to be here. It was officially condemned for the risk of this very thing happening. I suppose the downside of being well-informed is that you sometimes trick yourself into thinking you know what trouble you're walking into. And this had been a colossal mistake. Wait. But how did this whole mess happen? Inis's thoughts must have shown on her face because the Hexknight grinned knowingly. These knights had almost assuredly done something to bring the spinners here. Inis knew what brought her here. What still wasn't clear was everything that occurred before her arrival. Why were these knights here? As if reading Inis's mind again, Hexknight Fragmata filled her in. She talk matter-of-factly, but the details were astonishing. Out on assignment at the behest of the late Count. Cultists. Lies. Anger. She was hunting cultists in the forest, only to find she was being manipulated? I don't blame her for being angry, but isn't this excessive? "Where does that leave me, Hexknight Fragmata?" Inis asked. "Fragma, please. Even that is a mouthful, but we never really get to choose our names. You're free to go, but I hope you don't leave just yet." Fragma spoke like she actually planned on letting Inis leave. "Why is that?" There must be some trick. "I want to play a game." There it was. She... What? "I have the deck with me, and there's a table by the bedside, so you don't even need to get up. Just swing your legs over the side of the bed and I'll sit here. Have you ever played Thirds?" "Hexknight Fragmata," Inis began, but she froze when powerful eyes glanced up to meet her gaze. "Again... You may call me Fragma. I hope to become allies, and a nickname forges a more direct trail to that end." Using a Hexknight's nickname is scary, Inis thought. More importantly... am I fated to be her pawn from here on out? Thirds was a heavily strategic card game, where the main goal was achieving "balance". Competitive matches used a reduced deck, but as Fragma set about thoroughly shuffling the cards, Inis noticed that this was the standard deck. The reason for the reduced deck was to cut down on various overpowered strategies. It was not that the game was horribly unbalanced, it was just that it was decided that competitive matches should have more consistency to them. A player should feel like their win or their loss was the result of more strategy than chance. "You may leave at any time, but I do hope you'll stay and indulge me. If you agree to the stakes, that is." The trap. "And the stakes?" "Gain a point and you may ask a question of your opponent. Your opponent may name a subject off limits a maximum of three times." Interesting. Inis swung her legs over the edge of the bed and examined the cards she'd been dealt. The Hexknight took that as acceptance of her terms, but she wanted explicit consent. "Do you agree to the terms?" She was calmer now, but she remained a dangerously curious person. "I do." She was a Hexknight. There were worse requests to make of a citizen. Especially one who had technically attacked her knights. If she left now, she might cause more trouble than if she stayed. "Splendid. Let's begin." Subject: Vera Location: ??? "Backtrack to point 81-33 and access the shard from the third data repository. Store it in isolation. Make note of this point. Continue perusing remaining data shards in silent mode. Run a routine of past behavior on remaining shards, but flag all actions for reversal." While the system obeyed the request, Vera's companion, Felicity, snapped to attention. "Vera, what are you thinking?" Her fake looked puzzled at first. Upon seeing Vera's reaction to her own discovery, however, she changed her attitude. "What did you find, my Luminary." Vera was too shaken in this moment to muster the energy rejecting the title. "Ignore the automation sequence for a moment. If anyone is observing us, I want them to think we moved on. We will reverse to catch anything the automation misses, but scrying eyes need to believe we haven't found anything of note. If this is what I think it is... It's big. I wouldn't have picked up on it if their faction's diplomats hadn't used very specific language." She pointed at the shifting symbols on the virtual display. Her companion leaned closer, trying to recognize a pattern, unsuccessfully. The language of Vera and her kin was powerful, communicating complex concepts much more rapidly than, say, any of the human's primitive methods. Words could be read in as little as one direction, or as many as six. The downside of this was that an inscriber could obfuscate their true. message in multidirectional layers of thought. This diplomatic missive was one such communication. "These are from that time of my life I'd like to forget. It's a technique I once used at my old post, within my old faction. You can't hide some truth. If a cursory search reveals your fabrication, you're better off nesting layer upon layer of unnecessary truth. Each layer is meant to make the important bit less distinguishable from the mess of irrelevant facts strewn about it. It is especially effective if you must tell the truth, such as if you're communicating with an official governing body." Felicity nodded blankly. She turned away, thinking to herself while Vera continued reading. Vera guessed she was trying to understand. "There are regulations for this kind of official document," she finally commented. Vera stared deeply. "There are indeed," she nodded. "There are specific qualifications it must pass before it is accepted. The central authority isn't stupid." Vera shook her head and grabbed her companion's shoulders. Gently, just enough to summon her attention. "The central authority isn't stupid, but they are corrupt. We don't partake of many of their 'charities' because we see through that to their true intentions. They maintain the status quo, keeping our disparate factions placated and docile." "We don't play the game because we don't need it. That existence doesn't mean much to people like us." "I would argue it means a lot, actually. It is troublesome, ugly, and boring. It leads to a future where we forget what we are and what we could be. A future in stasis." Felicity stared at Vera expectantly. Vera released her shoulders and left her feeling somewhat disappointing, eyes slightly downcast, hiding her dashed hopes in a veil of a smile. The uncomfortable thing about having devotees like this one was that they would do too much without critical oversight. They valued the past too much and might ignore the present. Vera might not always be there. Especially if she was caught doing something reckless. If Vera was taken, bound, or dispersed, it would warp these followers into something as ugly as the central authority. Dogmatism was contagious and brutal. But at least the authority prevented all-out anarchy. When you think you have nothing to lose, temptations abound. "I don't want that future," she said softly. Vera agreed. "But we have to be sure to work toward a future that is better than the present, not worse." "What future do these words describe?" That was a good question. "I can't say for sure. If I told you my thoughts, would you promise to take them as just that?" Felicity nodded, beaming again. "I believe this planet has a long history. Longer than most factions would know. It hosted one of those 'games'. It was a game without a clear winner. Perhaps the participants grew bored, but the official explanation is ancient. It reads: 'we have all gained something from this experience, but these creatures are undeserving of ascension'. That's all taken from one of those earlier files." "Why bring up the game?" "When a game is concluded, you know what happens, yes?" She nodded and Vera continued. "There are times when the central authority representatives decide to leave the population be. They are in control of the technology, and there is nothing anyone else can do to 'take matters into their own hand'. The planet was culled and harvested, but not before the two dominant native sapient species were catalogued." "Two?" "Yes, two. Our research has revealed the planet to have upwards of six sapient species, with three more candidates for consideration. Each developed in isolation." Snapped to attention, Felicity admirable recognized what was so wrong with that claim. "That shouldn't be possible! The statistical likelihood of that happening is... Even in a lumin-dense cluster... It just shouldn't happen." "Just the observation I'd hoped you'd make! It shouldn't have happened but it did. Somehow. I believe it is related to this troublesome faction's activities nearly ten millennia later." "What did they do?" "I don't know, but I think they harvested the planet. A long, patient harvest. Not the kind we often see, but a harvest nonetheless." "You suggest they brought a number of these species here from... elsewhere, adapted them for life on this planet, guided their development, and studied their interactions." "I don't know, but you came to the same conclusion I did... so maybe it's worth considering. They certainly claim to have stored equipment on the planet, only taking the most valuable items with them when they abandoned it." "So there are two layers of our technology buried on the planet?" "At least two. I have one of my assets looking for some right now, but it might take them some time to find anything. There might be a delay before the asset even attempts to find anything. More importantly is just how enormous this planet is. It falls well beyond the range of that creature's comprehension. My modifications to their body allow them to withstand the gravity, but it does not help them cover such a large distance." Yes, Caim would need time. And so would Vera. For now, the best they both could do was looking for tools that could help them each in the future.