We walked silently behind the clan lord as he inspected the huddled people in the dim airspeeder. There was no noise, besides that of his boots, echoing with each step. Most of the people avoided our gazes, almost as if hoping we wouldn’t single any of them out. Boot footfalls came to a stop, with the clan lord looming over a sitting woman holding tight a small girl. She had those tell-tale wrinkles of someone who’s aged a lot faster than they should have. Hands were wrapped around the small girl with a deathgrip. A gaunt looking face, with slightly sunken eyes. He knelt down slowly, so that his own was at the same level. “What is your name?”

“Q-Quela.” She said, unconsciously holding the child tighter. The little girl whimpered, burying her face deeper into the woman’s stomach.

“And what did you give up to join the Chosen?”

The woman looked down, then raised one of her hands, bringing it to her mouth and biting down on the glove, using her teeth to take it off slowly. She hadn’t wanted to let her girl go with the other hand.

Under the glove was metal. Little gears inside moved as she turned and showed the prosthetic limb. A few of the panels were tinted purple, but the rest remained unpainted steel, scuffed already, which made the whole hand look dullen.

These mechanical grafts had been fascinating at first, then slowly became eerie as we found all of these people had some kind of machinery either implanted inside them, or replacing entire body parts. An eye. A kidney. Hands, legs, even a jaw for one.

Some had huge parts of them replaced. Those explained that they’d lost their limb fighting off the machines. Almost left for dead, and forced to amputate or die of infection.

The whole explanation had been surreal: Humans who served machines. That’s who these people were. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say these were traitors to humanity, by definition. The notion was so absurd to me, I felt more shell-shocked than outraged. The clan knights around the area had all nearly drawn out their blades when that priest explained in a calm voice exactly how they served the enemy of mankind. While the House soldiers had looked mostly confused at the whole thing.

Honestly, there was a certain bravery in that priest to just announce their allegiances. I don't know if it was a calculated move, or what there was to gain from that.

The captain of the expedition gave testimony to their character at least. Whoever, or whatever they were, they’d at behaved well on the trip home. Before any talk of decisions were made, he was already pleading with the clan lord to offer mercy, that while he believed the Chosen were misguided, that they weren’t a threat.

Walking through those airspeeders and seeing who the Chosen were, I had to agree with the captain on how much of a threat they were.

“Did you cut your hand or had it been cut long before?” Atius asked.

“No, I-I had to cut it. I was told to pick a part, and.... There was a forge we were led to, and medical beds that the mites had made and the-the-the machines -”

“I see. You don’t need to explain more. Your girl there, did she too have something taken?”

The woman nodded numbly, eyes still wide, as if expecting the Clan Lord to snap and attack at any moment. All while knowing there was absolutely nothing she could do to defend herself except curl up in a ball around her daughter and hope.

"Don't worry. I don't need to see it. Things will get better for you here, have hope." The clan lord rose up instead, done with the interview. He’d spent the last half hour walking from airspeeder to airspeeder, randomly speaking to the Chosen. They were a miserable lot, wearing hastily put together environmental suits. Hand-me-downs from Othersiders or sourced from cheap goods, none of them calibrated besides the default settings, so the efficiency was abysmal.

The Chosen hadn’t been exactly popular with the Undersiders. And it wasn't anything to do with them being Chosen - no they'd been chased off the city long before the machines came into the picture.

So when they escaped the underground and were sent up to the surface, they didn’t come with any maps, gear or guides. No trade routes to follow, no food besides frostboom and melted icewater. They’d been making it up as they went. Frankly the only thing going for these people is that the machines tolerated their presence at best, which gave them some leeway.

Spotting the expedition had been as much a saving grace to the Chosen as it had been to the expedition. They’d acquired airspeeders, and a grateful set of surface experts who proceeded to teach how to survive up here. The expedition crew had been taking glances at Atius and us as we walked around, everyone lingering in the hangars, trying to see what the ultimate verdict would be.

Back outside the ramp, Atius stayed quiet as we descended down. Lejis, the Chosen priest, waited at the bottom. He turned his head up, “Have you now a better idea of who we are, Lord Deathless?”

“Unfortunately.” Atius said. “I’ll need some time to consider what to do with you and your people. For the moment, you are all to remain within the airspeeders. Food, water and warmth will be provided. I’ll send for the engineer lads to patch up your environmental suits. Much of your equipment has been used incorrectly, they’re breaking down.”

“So the crewmembers of your expedition have shown us. I've never met surface dwellers until this expedition, I'm amazed at how organized and meticulous your people are. It's truly fascinating.”

"Survival makes demands for all of us. You would know about that." Atius said. "You are who you are because survival demanded it after all."

He quirked his head to the side at that. "At one point, yes. It was a miserable time at first, filled with terror and the unknown. I thought the machines would kill us all. Each day they didn’t however... I saw more hope for a way out, for peace. Every week, the choice to become Chosen feels more like my own."

The clan lord laughed at that, as if it was a clever inside joke between them. "Of course. Of course you’d say that. You'd make a terrible priest if you didn't believe in what you preach."

"I was never supposed to be a priest in the first place. There wasn't anyone else doing it and someone had to. I started with vigils first, small prayer sessions. Always thought it was temporary, that someone else would take over. I think I fell into the role by accident."

"Fate has a sense of humor, as I've discovered. It loves to test us. Especially me." Atius glanced back at the airspeeder, then his voice dropped a pitch. “If any of your people are found trying to sneak away, they will be dealt with. Harshly. We're done here, for now.”

“You don’t trust us.” Lejis said, stating the obvious as Atius walked past him.

“Trust has nothing to do with this. Only strategy. You worship the pale lady, lad. A sworn enemy of my kind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the sooner I confer with my people, the sooner we can come up with a reasonable plan forward.”

The priest gave a bow, “As you command, Lord Deathless. I await your verdict aboard my airspeeder. Know that I welcome an open and honest discussion at any time.” He then walked up the ramp, clearly intending to do exactly as he said with little fanfare.

“What a mess.” Atius muttered when the priest disappeared from view. With a sigh, he continued to the hanger doorways, waving a hand for us to follow behind. “That one will be dangerous to deal with.”

Shadowsong scoffed. “I saw no evidence the man knew anything of combat. Even his strides betray him.”

“It’s not his blade, armor or skills that I fear for. An honest man who believes in a cause can move mountains. That’s the danger he poses.”

“Think it’s all a trap?” I asked.

“Without question.” He said. “A devious one with layers. I'm still unraveling all the pieces put into play from this.”

“Did we stop it in time? Or should we bar them from entering the clan and throw them out?”

He chuckled at that. “No. It’s already been sprung on us. Damage was done a week ago.”

“Their religion.” Shadowsong spat. “The crew have been exposed to the idea over the last week of travel with them. Befriended them even. Disgusting.”

"It can't be that serious. Who in their right mind would side with machines?" I said. "I'd see them as a curiosity at best, but they still serve machines in the end. Did the expedition just forget about our homicidal neighbors?"

Atius shook his head. "How many surface dwellers have seen a machine before?"

That's… traders and knights, but no one else would have ever gone underground. I hadn't seen a machine my whole life except for a few pictures and wild tales up until just about a month ago.

"ON the surface, the only real enemy is the freeze out there, and the people lurking around in it. That's what we've grown used to. Underground, the enemy is completely different. It's a matter of perspective." Atius said. "Hence why these Chosen didn't quite understand just how dangerous the environment is up here, even though for us it's basic sense. Only when people see firsthand the danger of something does it become real to them, lad. Never forget that."

A few guards were posted at the entrance to the hangar, including three knights. We approached the checkpoint, and Atius stepped forward, switching his comms channel to open broadcast. “If any of them leave the airspeeders, corral them back in. Keep an eye on the vents, no one leaves this hanger. Don't hurt them, but don't be afraid to lay order if needed.”

The knight in charge saluted, along with the rest of the blockade. We passed through the airlock, making our way into the bowels of the colony.

"Machines are more a mythical enemy.” Atius continued. “They’re not as real a threat compared to the freeze out there. The people won't have that gut understanding. Our knights and traders do, they’ve fought machines. The rest of the clan has only stories to work on. Idealism always seems plausible when reality hasn’t been experienced."

"Can't we just give them supplies to cover the life debt and send them away?” I asked. “Cut the influence right at the head."

“And what of the next time people like them arrive? It's inevitable more of them will appear on the surface, spreading that religion of theirs. Sending them away is a wasted opportunity at this point.” Atius said. “I need to know more about who they are, what their goals are. Who they work for. How they organize. And most importantly - how to disarm their rhetoric. The enemy blindsided us, but they’ve left their trap in our hands to make use of.”

“You’ve considered their possible involvement with the raiders, my lord?” Shadowsong asked. "The timing of this does feel... particular."

“I have. The Othersiders moved as a unified whole within the month. That sort of pull requires years of connections and networks. Something the Chosen likely didn’t have the time to do. Word of their existence would have reached our ears if they had. Instead, their religion is new, even to me. Just because it’s an unlikely coincidence, does not mean we should rule it out being a genuine coincidence. Regardless lads, I need more out of them before I can make conclusions. We're only making wild guesses at this point."

“What of their relic armors?” Shadowsong asked. “Twenty three knights, all undersiders with no technique. It would be like crushing snow under our boots.”

Atius glanced at Shadowsong sharply, to which the prime sighed and lowered his shoulders. “I know better than to attack guests we've offered hospitality to, my lord.”

“I don’t follow.” I said. “Why shouldn’t we attack and seize their armour? That’s twenty three relic armors. Twenty three! Sure some people would get angry at the lifedebt being thrown out the airlock - but you're the clan lord. Ultimately, you can surpass traditions for a reason.”

“I have vows of my own, Keith.” Atius said. “Lines I do not cross. And whoever is behind the Chosen, they knew this and counted on it. That's why they revealed themselves so brazenly. They knew I couldn't chase them out or kill them, not without true justification.”

“But they’re following orders from the machines!” I hissed, “They're not even hiding it! We just-"

“Enough.” Atius snapped, cutting me off. “We know they are up to something, so what do you propose we do? Interrogate them all, kill them after and take their armors?”

“Well… They’re not that much better than raiders.”

Atius turned then on me, and there was a look in his gaze. “Quela is a middle aged women who’s seen nothing but hardship her whole life. The only thing that kept that woman going was her ten year old daughter. She did what she had to survive, I’ve seen hundreds in her boots before. I know the signs. Never catching a moment to rest and process what’s happened, always being forced to move. Her life is a blur of terror, broken apart by the few times she sleeps.”

He flourished out a knife and passed it hilt first. I took it by reflex. His hand let go of that weapon then snaked around and gripped my wrist, guiding the knife until the tip touched his stomach’s plate.

“Would you walk into that airspeeder, stare that woman in the eyes, and stab her daughter right here in the gut? It would be easy. You have armor. None of them could stop you. Your blade would sink in without any effort. And when that woman throws herself over her dying child, sobbing and wailing, would you grab her by the hair, lift her up, and cut her throat? Would you look into her eyes, and see as despair takes her life before you do? Watch her realize in those last few seconds of her life, that all the suffering and hardship she’d gone through, an entire lifetime spent - all to die here, watching her child butchered and unable to do a thing.”

“N-no.” I said, aghast.

“Then, how about casting them out and tell them to just go back underground? Watch as they fumble with their gear, making mistakes that pile up over time until they die up here, slowly freezing? Their airspeeder will go first, long before they find any way down. It'll crash into the ground and strand them. They’ll send people out second for help. Those won’t know what signs to look for, so most die when they don’t judge their distances correctly and run out of power on the way back. Soon their ship heater will break down, and then the cabin grows cold within hours. The ones without environmental suits huddle together as the ship power runs out and the lights go out. Shivering in the dark. Still hoping the scouts found something, not realizing they're all dead already. They soon start to die, from the outside in. Imagine being in that pile, teeth clattering, not knowing if the friend by your side is even alive, or if you’re clutching tightly to a corpse. The ones with suits are left in that cabin of the dead, still holding onto some hope that help will come. Eventually they mismanage something, and their rebreathers fail. They die, their body forcing them to cough a hundred times rather than breath the frozen air, until they’re suffocating, too weak to even shudder, and then the cold shreds their lungs. One or two of them might be lucky and stay alive to watch their friends die off one at a time. Then, eventually, their power runs out and it’s their turn.”

He stood back up, withdrawing the knife back into his sheath. “The knife would have been less cruel.”

We didn’t say anything as our group continued to match through the corridors, in the direction of the markets.

“They're not the enemy.” He said, finally. “They don’t know what they’re doing Keith, or why they’re here. None of these Chosen do. They’re simply people. Refugees clinging to tatters of hope, sent up here to either die or find temporary shelter before they’re cast back out again. And that’s what makes all this such a perfect trap. None of them have been given any grand mission, except perhaps for that priest. Do you understand?”

“I think I do, my lord.” I replied.

Atius nodded and made his way through the sliding doors at the end of the corridor. Behind was the entrance to the main district, filled with people moving around quickly to tend to their duties. Ironreach and a few other knights stood there, waiting to relieve Shadowsong and myself.

I watched as the clan lord made his way through the market to his estate ground, leaving the pair of us behind.

Shadowsong, of all people, reached out a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t feel so cowed, Winterscar. I was given the same lecture around your age. Different event, same resolution. The clan lord does not kill innocents. Neither through inaction, subordinates, or by his own hand. It’s a line he has never crossed before. He does not fool around with such a weight, no matter how convenient.”

“Out of the hundreds of years he’s been alive? Not once?”

Shadowsong nodded. “Not even once. Even if it cost far more for doing it. Consider from his point of view. The moment he succumbs and makes a choice like this, the next one becomes easier. And the one after. He's immortal. Over decades, more decades than man was made to live, he’ll lose touch with reality one damning choice after another. The only recourse is to never take that first step into madness. I believe that is the only thing that truly terrifies him.”

“But what do we do, then? The Chosen are clearly up to something, hiding behind the refugees, and we’re keeping them right here where they can knife us in the back! Okay, I understand most of them are just being used, but I don’t buy that all of them are innocent. It only takes one of the scrapshits to sneak around and start stealing shit - I should know, I was one of those scrapshits once. Two hands can cause a lot of trouble, believe me.”

He gave a short chuckle, then took his helmet off, slowly. The matted black hair spilling out, giving his face a far more skeletal look. “That is where we come in. We’re not so restricted by a line in the snow. You said it yourself, the real enemy is hiding behind the Chosen, using them as a smokescreen. One or more of them, hiding in plain sight. How do you catch an opponent that’s hiding, waiting for you to look away?”

I could tell where this was going. And my head was coming up with ideas. “You set up bait and a trap.”

“Exactly. And when it comes to scheming traps, I can think of no better man than a Winterscar. You are the acting head of your house now. Time we made use of it.”

- Sell you a dream