The Zombie Knight

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Two: ‘To thine scorching heart...’

It hadn’t taken much more convincing to get the group to agree to follow the stranger, who soon identified himself as a biologist, anthropologist, historian, and “generally curious individual” by the name of Carver.

“How did you end up here?” Diego asked as the man led them to wherever they were going.

“Oh, it’s a rather long story, but the unfortunate point of it is that my companions and I were separated during an exploratory venture. Not to worry, though. My companions and I were eventually reunited. But at that time, I decided to stay, as I had grown quite fond of this place.”

Hector, and perhaps everyone else present, found that difficult to comprehend.

Zeff posed the next question. “How long have you been down here?”

“Ah, I would wager that it is going on five years or so now,” said Carver. “It has been quite the educational adventure. Full of more thrills than I care to remember. But from the looks of your lot, I somehow begin to think that my own tales would fail to impress.”

They arrived at a ruined structure that looked like it might’ve once been something quite spectacular, judging from the long, flat steps leading up to it and the empty grounds all around it, perhaps where one or more courtyards had been.

Had it been a castle of some kind, Hector wondered? Axiolis had mentioned something about royalty, hadn’t he? Maybe this was some sort of palace.

A sobering thought, he felt. He could hardly imagine how much time, effort, and resources would have gone into construction. And to think that it could be reduced to a state such as this? Little more than knee-high walls and a pile of rocks?

As if he needed any more reason to feel small and powerless in the grand scheme of things.

Carver led them up the steps and through the vibrating rubble. The distant battle between the two giants had not ceased or even shown any signs of doing so. Hector was not the only one who was still trying to keep an eye on it, partially out of wariness and partially out of simple awe. When would they ever get another chance to see something like this?

The feldeath loosed a burning beam of black light that cut through the golem and tore into the cavern ceiling. A half-dozen building-sized stalactites crashed down on a section of the city that was much too close for Hector’s liking. Dust and wind rushed past the group, disturbing the broken castle grounds and unsettling more debris.

After that, everyone’s pace quickened noticeably, and they soon arrived at a large door in the floor of a blown-out chamber. Carver set to work opening it--a process which apparently involved inserting a key into a hole beneath a hatch in the floor, then flipping a series of adjacent switches.

It took several attempts. Carver threw the group a few embarrassed looks and apologized after finally getting it open. “I have not done this in quite a while,” he said. “The mechanism is rather old and could do with a bit of maintenance, it seems.”

At last, he led them down a short ladder and then a spiraling staircase. A very long, spiraling staircase, Hector discovered. He had fun changing his iron box into appropriate shapes so that it could continue following the group--so much fun, in fact, that he would’ve left the damn thing behind if not for Mr. Sheridan’s pleading.

He did finally manage it after reassessing the problem and treating it like a new form of training. Making the iron box grow and shrink as necessary, becoming less like an iron box and more like an iron caterpillar. Or worm, perhaps. Squirming its way down the hole, the ladder, the narrow and curving steps.

Garovel seemed to get a kick out of the whole ordeal.

Hector was the last to reach the bottom of the staircase, and they’d apparently been asking Carver more questions while they waited for Hector to catch up.

“You’ve really been down here for five years all by your lonesome?” Mr. Sheridan was saying.

“Yes and no,” said Carver. “It has been years since I have seen another ‘normal’ person like myself--if these servants and Hun’Kui gentlemen will excuse the term. Yet I have not been alone. But rather than telling you, would it not be better to show you?”

The group exchanged uncertain looks as they started walking again, this time down a long corridor with the only light being at the end of it.

‘He’s not lying,’ said Garovel privately. ‘I’m sensing a lot of... souls on the other side of this tunnel.’

Hector noticed the reaper’s hesitation. ‘Why the pause?’

‘I just... well, they’re not quite “souls” in the traditional sense.’

‘There are traditional souls now?’ said Hector. ‘How complicated does this shit get, Garovel?’

‘That’s not what I mean. Just... geez, I can hardly believe what I’m sensing, right now. Maybe it really would be better to just to wait until he shows us.

‘Shows us what?’

‘Exactly.’

Hector had lost his ability to be surprised by Garovel’s intentional crypticity. He hadn’t lost his ability to be annoyed by it, though.

They soon reached the end of the corridor, but none of them were prepared for the view that awaited them.

Carver kept walking while everyone else stopped to gawk. Then he turned and gestured widely with both hands. “Welcome to Himmekel, the Paradise Vault.”

The very first thing that drew Hector’s eye was the sky-high lavafall. It wasn’t particularly wide, but it was so tall and so intensely bright that it became the main source of light for the area.

But not the only source of light. And that was the second thing Hector noticed: how many other, smaller lights there were. And what they were.

They were people.

The lights were people.

They glowed. Red and orange and yellow. Molten beings. Not unlike the golem he’d just seen.

Or, wait a minute, were these golems, too? They were the size of regular humans, but maybe that didn’t matter?

He needed some answers and so reached for the only question he could think of. ‘Garovel, what the fuck am I looking at?’

The reaper was slow to answer. ‘Hector,’ he said privately. ‘Meet the Hun’Sho. A branch of humanity that I thought went extinct a thousand years ago.’

Hector’s eyes widened. He had no idea what to say to that.

The group started inching forward with Zeff in the lead, and Hector just kind of mindlessly followed, still too dumbstruck to do much besides listen and observe.

“Now, I’m sure you all have many questions,” said Carver, “but first, let me assure you that, whatever you’ve heard about their kind, these Hun’Sho here are very gracious, magnanimous, and welcoming. So long as you do no violence upon them, none will be done upon you. Trust me. I have been studying their ways for five years.” Then he turned to the Hun’Kui specifically and began speaking Hunese, perhaps repeating himself in order to make sure they understood.

Hector couldn’t take his eyes off the Hun’Sho. There must have been fifty of them, at least, all looking down at the group from various interconnected bridges above.

‘Lava people,’ he thought, still incredulous. ‘There are fucking lava people...’

‘Yup,’ was all Garovel said.

‘How do--?’ He struggled for an appropriate question. ‘I mean... how can they even EXIST? How can you have a body made out of fucking lava?!’

‘Well, technically, their body isn’t made of lava. The lava is a coating which they naturally secrete. Like clothes are to you. If your clothes were made out of your own sweat, drool, piss, and shit.’

‘What.’

‘It’s much more hygienic when they do it, though. I know the thought is tempting, Hector, but don’t cover yourself in your own excrement. You’ll get someone sick.’

He was genuinely lost for words now.

Carver started talking to the group again. “Now, if you would please continue following me, I will show you to a place where you can all get some rest. I doubt I am the only one who is tired, yes?”

A few grumbles of acknowledgment was all he got in response, and they began walking again.

Carver led them down the central path, right into a waiting crowd of Hun’Sho, which parted for them as they got closer. Carver began speaking to them, perhaps trying to allay their concerns. The Hun’Sho were not shy about answering the man, but Hector had no idea what any of them were saying.

‘Do you know their language, too?’ Hector asked.

‘Sure do,’ said Garovel. ‘Ancient Hunese. Quite a bit different from the Modern Hunese that I’ve been hearing the Hun’Kui speak.’

‘What are they saying?’

‘Well, they are expressing their confusion, for obvious reasons. There are a few comments about how weird you all look. Especially you. Wow, they’re really curious about you in particular. Your armor has them a bit spooked, I think.’

Not too surprising, he supposed. ‘They’re not gonna attack us or anything, right?’

‘Doesn’t seem like it.’

As they continued, the street grew noticeably more polished and reflective, and so did their black-and-gray buildings, which Hector couldn’t help ogling somewhat. What were they made of, he wondered? Obsidian, maybe? He didn’t know much about volcanic rocks, but he was growing more interested in the subject by the second.

And that architecture. He recognized the horizontal window shapes from the ruined city they’d just come from. The doorways were different from what he was accustomed to seeing, as well. Double doors were everywhere, but instead of being rectangular, they formed elegant, half-moon shapes.

In fact, he didn’t see any sharp edges, whatsoever. Every structure had a smoothed or rounded look to it, and combined with that omnipresent, marble-like polish, the entire settlement managed to achieve a kind of gentle glistening effect.

‘Alright, Garovel, I’m ready for my next history lesson.’

The reaper laughed. ‘Okay, um. Gee. Where do I begin?’

Hector had a notion. ‘How about the names? Hun’Sho and Hun’Kui? It’s not a coincidence that they sound similar, is it?’

‘Ah. Yes, well. You are not wrong. Where the name Hun’Kui literally translates to “people of the ash,” the name Hun’Sho literally translates to “people of the fire.” And there is considerable history there.’ The reaper spared a glance at the Hun’Kui in their party. ‘Rather gruesome history, unfortunately.’

Hector caught the implication. ‘Is that... going to a problem here?’

‘Well, it was a thousand years ago, so I’d like to say no, but...’

‘I should keep it in mind?’

‘Wouldn’t hurt.’

‘What happened, exactly?’

‘In short? The Hun’Kui were slaves. And the Hun’Sho were their masters.’

‘Oh.’

‘And the reason I thought the Hun’Sho had gone extinct, was because I thought the Hun’Kui had killed them all.’

‘Oh...’

‘The Hun’Sho did some pretty monstrous things. But they did some pretty incredible things, too. During their peak, they were the brains behind almost every major technological advancement in the Undercrust--and a few on the surface, as well.’

‘Really? Like what?’

‘Metallurgy was probably the biggest thing. The most famous blacksmiths on the surface only became such because of Hun’Sho knowledge.’

‘Huh.’

‘It was a bit unfair, really. If you had access to the Undercrust, you could probably gain a significant technological advantage over your adversaries. It might be the primary reason why holes that lead to the Undercrust are still largely kept a secret, even today. Historically speaking, they were priceless.’

Hector’s mind went to the ardor-fueled weaponry that he’d seen so much of during his time in the Undercrust. Garovel’s explanation was sounding pretty spot-on.

Carver stopped in front of a tall structure, one that looked somewhat dilapidated by comparison to those around it. Then he turned to the Hun’Kui and began speaking to them while motioning toward it.

‘What’s he saying?’ Hector asked.

‘...“I believe you will be most comfortable here. Apologies for its current state. It has been abandoned for a few years now, but there should be ample room for the four of you. Let me know if there is anything else you need.” Hmm.’

After that, the Hun’Kui and surface dwellers split up, and Hector wasn’t sure why, until Carver led the rest of their group around a corner and down another street, where they arrived at a decidedly unique building. A dome.

Carver brought them inside, sealed the heavy door behind them, and began removing his climate suit.

The other two who were wearing suits looked rather reluctant to do the same, but Hector could feel the difference right away. He was suddenly freezing his ass off. The misty armor was doing far too good of a job in this place.

He had to tap the Lord Elroy on the shoulder. “Hey, Zeff, uh, you’re turning me into a popsicle now...”

For a time, the Lord Elroy just looked at him.

“...Z-Zeff?” said Hector. His teeth had started chattering.

The man folded his arms and kept staring. “Warm yourself.”

Hector was confused. “What?”

“Warm yourself,” Zeff repeated. “Use temperature manipulation and warm yourself.”

Aw, shit. He had an inkling where this was going, but it was difficult to even think straight, and talking was even harder than usual. “But, uh--y-your armor is way too s-strong. I c-can’t--”

“Fine,” said Zeff, and he raised his arm.

The misty armor became suddenly lighter but didn’t go away. Hector could still feel himself getting colder and number by the second.

“I’ve weakened it for you,” said Zeff. “Try now.”

Hector dropped to his knees, finding it difficult to maintain his balance.

He could hear people saying things. He could hear them in his head, too. Reaper’s words. Shouted, maybe. But he couldn’t actually listen to them, anymore. It was all just background noise.

Whole thoughts were escaping him now. What was happening? Freezing. Right. A way to neutralize servants. Probably gotten to his brain, then. That was why it was difficult to. To. To...?

Whatever.

Had to materialize. Not even sure why. Just had to be done. Something. Anything. For the head.

A helmet.

Hey, he could feel it. Warm metal. What a familiar sensation. Probably just room temperature, though. Warm only by comparison to how insanely cold he was.

Good but not good enough.

Annihilate and try again. Make it warm. How, though? Didn’t matter. Couldn’t think. Just make it warm. No, make it burn. Make it hurt.

Holy shit, pain. Something was definitely hurting. All around his... head? Yeah. His head.

But pain was good. Pain was not numb. Numb was bad.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Story of life, eh, Garovel?

Garovel?

Oh shit. Needed more pain. To bring everything back.

And there it was. More pain. More burning. More heat.

Hey, what was that? Hissing? Oh, the sound of steam. He could hear again. It was working. It was working so well that he could smell burning flesh.

Oh, wait.

Hector spasmed back into control of his faculties. He was on the floor, and his face was melting.

Wow, this was painful. Not so much because it hurt any worse than the sort of pain that he’d felt previously and often. Rather, it was extra painful just because it was sustained. It hurt sharply and kept hurting sharply. No diminishing so that he could catch his breath or rethink his life choices.

Just a continual, searing pain.

He was still thinking, though, he realized. Despite being able to feel it. What was this, anyway?

It was like he had a spare compartment in his mind, just for appreciating how awful things were, right now.

Shouldn’t he be doing something with this knowledge?

Oh, good, he was already screaming in agony. How long had that been going on for? He should probably do something else now.

Hector dematerialized the red hot iron from around his head. Cool relief immediately washed over his face--so immediately, in fact, that it hurt in its own, new way, and he couldn’t stop his whole body from shaking.

‘--ector?! Hector!’

‘Ah, hey, Garovel,’ said Hector, perhaps calmer than he should’ve.

‘Are--are you okay?’ said Garovel, sounding surprised. The reaper was on the other side of an icy dome.

‘Of course I’m okay,’ said Hector. ‘I’m undead.’ He said that, but the right side of his face still felt like it was on fire. Not quite as on fire as it had been a moment ago, but still on fire nonetheless.

‘I--well, I know that, Hector. I just meant...’ The reaper growled and looked at Zeff. ‘Would you please get rid of this ice, now?’

The icy dome vanished into nothingness, and Garovel reached for Hector’s shoulder.

The young man recoiled away from the reaper’s grasp. “I’m fine,” he said.

‘Are you serious? That looks like it hurts A LOT.’

It did. Sweet goddess, it did. But that was kinda the point.

“I’ve had worse,” said Hector. He looked over at Zeff, who seemed to be in the middle of a silent argument with Axiolis.

‘Hector, c’mon. Let me numb the pain for you. That burn looks awful.’

“Just the regen, then. Don’t numb the pain.”

‘Hector...’

“It’s fine, Garovel. The pain will just come back later, anyway. I can deal with it right now.’

The reaper still looked reluctant but said, ‘If you say so.’

He was still shaking, Hector realized. His head was fine, more or less, but the rest of his body was still pretty damn cold, even with the misty armor gone.

He could probably fix that now.

Hector clapped a fresh suit of iron armor around himself. Sure enough, it was as warm as he’d intended it to be.

Well, maybe this was a little warmer than he’d wanted. Okay, it was kinda too hot, actually.

He nailed it on the second try.

That was better. Nice and toasty. Like a cozy metal blanket. That didn’t make much sense, he supposed. Iron was not at all soft, much less cozy. Yet that was still an accurate representation of how he felt. Somehow, his iron seemed more like his than ever before.

It was a familiar and altogether welcome sensation, wearing his own armor again. He planned to leave it on, even after his body warmed up completely.

Zeff finally looked over at him, and Hector was ready to meet the Lord Elroy’s stern gaze through the visor of his iron helmet.

“I will not make that armor for you again,” said Zeff. “From now on, protect yourself from the heat of the Undercrust.”

‘Are you fucking kidding?’ said Garovel. ‘You’re really not going to apologize for what you just did?’

“He doesn’t need to,” said Hector. “Zeff was just trying to give me the push I needed. And it worked, didn’t it?”

‘Bullshit. That was way out of line.’

Zeff snorted. “You expect your enemies to be more considerate than I?” He glared at the young man harder than he ever had before. “Do you even realize how many people look up to you now? All of my kin. They don’t see your weakness. They think they can depend on you.”

Hector just listened.

“What a joke,” Zeff went on. “My kin all look at you and think that you can handle the same level of responsibility as I. Or Asad. Or Dimas or Salvador or Melchor. They look at you and see our equal. Hell, they may even see our superior!”

Hector frowned but kept his expression otherwise steady. Zeff was just spouting nonsense now, Hector felt. Surely, none of the other Rainlords actually believed that.

The Lord Elroy turned and began walking away. “Grow or die, Hector.”

Axiolis lingered.

Hector thought the reaper might apologize on the servant’s behalf, as he’d seen other reapers do several times in the past, but Axiolis surprised him.

The reaper only observed him in silence for a moment longer before following Zeff.

Well, that was fine. Hector didn’t really think Zeff had done anything to apologize for, anyway.

Garovel seemed to feel differently, however. ‘What an ungrateful piece of shit,’ he said in the echo of privacy.

‘Garovel...’

‘What? You’re gonna defend that guy’s behavior?’

Hector sighed. Right now, he really just wanted to go catch up to everyone else. He was still standing here in the entryway like a jackass while they were all off exploring the facilities and probably asking Carver all sorts of interesting questions.

As he finally started to progress deeper into the building, he found himself wondering if any of the others had witnessed any part of that incident just now. He hoped not. That would be pretty humiliating.

‘But y’know,’ said Garovel, ‘the more I think about it, the more I find that man’s behavior hilarious.’

‘What?’

‘Weren’t you listening to what he said? He feels THREATENED by you, Hector. Maybe even jealous.’

‘THAT was your interpretation? Garovel, you couldn’t be more wrong.’

‘Psh. Of course you’d say that. Let me guess. You think he’s just trying to be a good teacher or whatever.’

‘...Yeah, maybe I do think that.’

‘You’re too nice for your own good, Hector.’

‘And you’re too patronizing for everyone else’s good.’

‘Really? You’re gonna insult ME now? I’m on your side, you prick.’

‘So is Zeff. We’d both be worm food by now if it wasn’t for him.’

‘Ugh.’ The reaper sounded genuinely disgusted.

The next room over had multiple new doors to try, and Hector decided to go through the one on his right before Garovel had a chance to continue that conversation.

Now there was a sight he hadn’t seen in a while.

Plants. A whole lot of them, too. The chamber extended much farther than he’d expected, and the entire thing was filled.

Hector blinked when he realized. ‘These are the plants from the surface that you were sensing earlier.’

Garovel floated among two rows of fully grown apple trees. ‘Yeah,’ was all he said.

Hector was more than ready for the new subject, however. ‘How do they grow so far underground like this?’

The reaper pointed at the lamps in the rather low ceiling. ‘Artificial sunlight. It’s impressive technology. I’ve never seen results as good as this.’

Hector struggled for another plant-related question, wanting to keep up the conversational momentum, but no further ideas were coming to him besides just being amazed by all the fruits and vegetables.

Dammit, weren’t there a bunch of other questions that he’d wanted to ask Garovel just a little while ago? There absolutely were. What the hell were they?

Hold on.

Garovel was being suspiciously quiet all of a sudden, Hector felt.

“...Something wrong?” Hector asked aloud since it was just the two of them.

The reaper did not answer him, only floated slowly through a cluster of green corn stalks.

“Garovel? Are you... are you sulking over what happened? I thought you’d just keep complaining, not get all weird on me.”

‘What? Oh, no, that’s not it. Sure, Zeff acted like a horse’s ass, but if you don’t care, then I don’t care. I’m over that already.’

“Oh,” said Hector, a bit taken aback, because it didn’t sound like the reaper was being sarcastic. “Well, uh... Really? I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you were still a little not over it.”

Garovel floated closer and kept his voice private. ‘Hector, um. Before we rejoin the others, there’s something we should discuss. And I’m sorry if this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere.’

Hector took the hint to stop talking aloud. ‘...What is it?’

‘Remember the Sosho’Diyu? That treasure everyone was going on about back in Babbadelo?’

‘Of course.’

‘There is an almost one hundred percent chance that it is somewhere here in Himmekel.’

Hector paused to acknowledge that thought. ‘That... would make sense, I guess.’

‘And also... I need to tell you about one of the oldest mysteries in the history of the planet.’

Hector blinked. ‘Uh. Okay?’

‘It’s most commonly referred to as Rathmore’s Materials.’

‘Oh, yeah. I wanted to ask about that before, but there wasn’t time. Why does the name “Rathmore” sound so familiar?’

‘Do you remember Rathmore’s Gate?’

‘Uh...’

‘Where you, Roman, Harper, and the Queen fought Abolish back in Atreya?’

‘Oh! Yeah, it was a rock formation! Rathmore’s Gate.’ Hector tilted his head as he tried to remember in greater detail. ‘Come to think of it... YOU were the one who first mentioned it, weren’t you? You asked if Voreese knew of it so that we could regroup there.’

‘Good memory. Do you happen to remember anything else about that particular rock formation?’

‘Um... no, should I?’

‘I suppose not. Curious as you are, I remember waiting for you to ask me more about it, but you never did.’

‘Why would I have asked you more about some seemingly random rock formation?’

‘You didn’t notice? Ah, I guess you were pretty busy at the time, weren’t you?’

‘Notice what?’

‘That, despite how brutal and devastating to the local environment that battle was, Rathmore’s Gate was still standing after it was over.’

Hector’s brow lowered as he tried to recall what Garovel was talking about. The only other thing he remembered about Rathmore’s Gate was smashing into it after taking a hit from Harper.

But Garovel was right. That was strange, wasn’t it? With as hard as he’d hit the damn thing, it hadn’t so much as cracked.

‘So what are you saying?’ said Hector. ‘I mean, it’s weird ‘n all, but what’s the big mystery about, exactly?’

‘You see, Rathmore was one of the most famous integrators in history. Or infamous, depending on who you talk to. And one of the reasons he became so well-known was because of his “Materials.” Which was actually a bit of a con job on his part.’

‘Con job?’

‘Rathmore’s Gate. Rathmore’s Flame. Rathmore’s Looking Glass. Rathmore’s Knife. Rathmore’s Light. And so on and so forth. He named all of these monuments after himself because of all the weird shit he did to them--like infusing a molten rock golem into one of them, apparently. But the fact of the matter was, all of those monuments existed BEFORE him. He just modified them.’

‘So... they used to just be normal monuments?’

‘No, see, that’s the point. They weren’t normal at all. Rathmore was only able modify them the way he did because they were already abnormal.’

‘Abnormal in what way?’

‘They were indestructible by any known method.’

Hector cocked an eyebrow beneath his helmet. ‘If they were indestructible, then how was he able to modify them at all?’

The reaper shrugged. ‘I didn’t say it wasn’t impressive, what he did. I just wanted to make it clear that his so-called Materials were never really HIS to begin with. That was the con job, in my opinion.’

‘Hmm. So where’d all these indestructible monuments come from, then?’

‘That’s the big mystery. Nobody is quite sure.’

‘Seriously? Does that mean they’re even older than you are?’

‘As far as I am aware, they pre-date the existence of reapers entirely.’

‘Whoa. By how much, exactly?’

‘Dunno.’

Hector’s eyes widened as he thought more about it. So that was why Garovel had called it one of the oldest mysteries in the history of Eleg. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me about this before?’

‘Didn’t come up.’

‘We were literally AT Rathmore’s Gate! You didn’t think I’d be interested in its history?!’

‘Well... okay, I’m sort of... lying a little bit, actually.’

Hector’s brow lowered again. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry. It’s a force of habit when it comes to this subject, I suppose. See, this mystery... Rathmore’s Materials... well, it’s something that I’ve been keeping to myself for a very long time now.’

‘What do you mean? Keeping it to yourself? You just said it’s one of the oldest mysteries in the world.’

‘Yeah...’

‘What, were you lying about that, too?’

‘No, no. That was the truth. What I’m saying is... despite its incredible age, there are very few people who know of it. And I kinda prefer it that way, Hector.’

‘Oh...’

‘This is what I need you to understand,’ said Garovel. ‘This mystery... this is something that I have discreetly been trying to solve for around two millennia now. So it’s rather important to me that you not tell anyone else about it.’

‘O-okay...’

‘I’m serious, Hector. Not anyone. Not Roman. Not Lynn. Not the Queen. Not even Ramira giving you puppy dog eyes.’

‘Aha... yeah, I get it. I won’t mention Rathmore to anyone. But, uh... you still haven’t explained WHY you want to keep it a secret. Is this knowledge somehow dangerous?’

‘Of course it is. Rathmore’s Materials have all sorts of absurd powers that even I still don’t know about. If other people start studying them or otherwise trying to unlock their secrets... well, that’s the sort of thing that entire nations go to war over.’

‘I see...’

‘But it’s not just about preventing war for me, either. I’ll admit that a part of me is still hoping to harness their power for myself, one day. Or for yourself, that is.’

Hector wasn’t sure how to respond to that. As ridiculous as it sounded, he could still understand the basic sentiment. The desire for power. For strength. He’d been feeling it more and more, lately, for obvious reasons.

He did come up with a question, though. ‘You say you want to keep all this stuff a secret, but wasn’t Axiolis the one who recognized Rathmore’s Flame? And doesn’t that mean he already knows about it?’

‘Not necessarily. Lots of people know the name Rathmore and nothing else. The name has become famous even among non-servants. All the monuments saw to that.’ Garovel allowed a beat to pass. ‘But yeah, it’s totally possible that Axiolis knows more about it than he let on. We should be careful around him.’

‘Garovel, you’re starting to sound really paranoid. I thought you liked Axiolis.’

‘I do. He’s great. But hiding beneath that greatness could be the cold, black heart of a treacherous bastard.’

‘Wow.’

‘I’m not kidding, Hector. That’s how reapers are. We’re lying, power hungry, duplicitous sons of bitches. And we’re good at hiding it, too.’

‘...I’ll have to take your word on that one.’ Hector scratched his head and looked over all the plants another time. ‘Can we rejoin the others now? I want to see the rest of this place.’

‘There’s still more I should tell you, but fine. That was all of the most important stuff, I think.’

They left the verdure behind, and Hector let Garovel lead the way back to everyone. En route, however, another question occurred to Hector and began getting the better of him.

‘...Hey, what about Rathmore? If he was such a big deal, then what happened to him?’

‘The Vanguard happened to him.’

‘They killed him?’

‘Yeah. He was a nice enough guy when he was younger, but he became more and more of an asshole as he got older. Provoked a few wars. Ethnic cleansings. Human experimentation.’

‘Wait, did you... know him personally?’

‘...As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Garovel.

Hector waited for Garovel to elaborate, but when it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen, he decided to ask the pressing question. ‘...Was he your servant?’

‘No. But he was the servant of a good friend of mine. A good friend who also went mad and died with him.’

‘Holy shit, Garovel. I’m so sorry that, uh... I mean, I’m sorry that you went through that.’

‘Yeah...’

And Hector was abruptly reminded of just how old Garovel really was, how much the reaper must have seen and experienced and endured. It was sometimes all too easy to forget that. Hector got the sense that Garovel preferred it that way, even now, with how little emotion the reaper was showing.

‘Sometimes, people just go crazy, Hector. Even normal, everyday people. And in our line of work? Reapers and servants? All the madness that we see? It’s more common than most of us care to think about.’

Was it really that simple, Hector wondered? Could people really just snap? For no reason at all? Hector wasn’t sure he believed that. But Garovel was speaking from experience, and Hector didn’t have much cause to challenge him on it. Not right now, anyway. Maybe some other time, he would.

At length, they encountered Carver again, sitting alone in some sort of small drawing room. He stood when he noticed them.

“Ah, I was worried you might have gotten lost.” He craned his neck as if confused. “You are the same armored gentleman from earlier, no?”

Oh, right. He must have looked completely different in his iron armor now. “Yes.”

“I have already showed the others to their rooms. Please allow me to do the same for you.”

“Thank you...”

Carver took two big steps to his right and motioned toward the door there. “Aaand I’m done! Your room’s right here! Aha! Hope that walk wasn’t too exhausting for you!”

The man seemed to be fishing for a laugh, so Hector tried to give him one.

Carver cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was funnier in my head.”

Hector followed him through the door, still dragging his iron box of gun parts along. Thankfully, there was just enough space for it in the corner by the bed. He finally sat down with a sigh of relief and wondered what kind of material this weird, rubbery mattress was made from. The clamor of his armor was also rather loud in this confined space, but he didn’t quite feel like removing it yet.

Then he noticed that Carver was lingering in the open doorway, observing him.

Hector racked his brain, worrying that he’d forgotten some sort of important courtesy. “...I appreciate your hospitality,” he tried.

“Oh, think nothing of it,” said Carver.

And that was all he said.

And he still did not leave.

And everything became abruptly awkward.

“...Was there something else?” said Hector.

Carver chewed on his upper lip for a second. “Look, um... Lord Darksteel, was it? That’s, ah, what the others said your name was when I asked.”

“You can just call me Hector.”

“Ah. Okay. Splendid. But, ah, as I was saying... um...”

This guy was suddenly almost as bad with words as he was, Hector felt. “...Y-yes?”

“L-look, I’m just gonna level with you, Hector. I’ve been starved for normal human interaction for YEARS now. S-so, I’d like to go ahead and apologize ahead of time, in case anything I say or do comes across as really weird or... o-or... perhaps... clingy.”

‘Garovel, what is happening right now?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m enjoying it.’

Carver wasn’t done. “The thing is, with the rest of your group, um... I think I’ve already poisoned the well in that regard, if you know what I mean.”

Hector did not.

Carver sighed. “I’m sure they think I’m super weird now...”

‘Hector...’

‘What?’

‘Console him or something!’

‘How?!’

‘Tell him he’s wrong!’

“I, uh... I’m sure they don’t think you’re that weird, Mr. Carver.”

“Thanks, but you weren’t there. You didn’t see what I did.”

“...What did you do?”

Carver hesitated. He glanced back through the doorway, as if to check if anyone else was listening. Either that, or he was considering running away. “I told everyone... um... you see, I told them... that... I... loved... them.”

Hector took a breath in order to respond, but his brain didn’t have anything for him. And neither did Garovel, it seemed.

“Look, it just kinda slipped out, okay?! I used to think I was a loner-type, but my god! This is just ridiculous! I haven’t seen another normal human being in I-don’t-know-how-long! This place is a barren wasteland when it comes to satisfying social interaction!”

“I thought you said you liked it here,” said Hector. “Educational or whatever.”

“I do like it here! And the Hun’Sho are fascinating! But--! They’re also just--! Agh...!”

“...Are they not very good company?”

“No! I mean, they’re great! They’re wonderful! So kind and considerate! You won’t find anyone more courteous and polite!”

Hector heard a “but” coming and waited.

“...But they’re so stuffy! Ugh! You have no idea! And they’re kinda weirdly arrogant, too. They’re not really human as you and I understand the term. Half the time, they treat me like I’m some kind of pet. They’ve taken such good care of me that I don’t wish to complain, but... agh...”

Hector felt bad for the guy, but this was also new information. He couldn’t help being curious. “Uh... what else can you tell me about the Hun’Sho here?”

Carver perked up a little. “Well. Just about anything you want me to tell you, I suppose. What would you like to know?”

Hector glanced at Garovel. ‘Ideas?’

‘Ask him how long they’ve been down here.’

Hector did so.

“About twelve hundred years, if what they’ve told me is true,” said Carver.

‘Sounds about right, I guess,’ said Garovel. ‘Ask him if any of them ever leave this settlement.’

“Do any of the Hun’Sho ever leave this place?” said Hector.

“No, they do not,” said Carver. “They are generally quite fearful of venturing outside the Vault. As am I, of course, but that is mainly because of the feldeath and the golem. And all those worms, too, I suppose. And the possibility of earthquakes and falling rocks. And the notion that my lamp might die on me, stranding me in the darkness with basically no hope of making it back here safely.”

“...And the Hun’Sho aren’t afraid of those things?”

“Not all of those things, no. And certainly not as much as me. Because, well, they are somewhat immortal.”

That was news to Hector. “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

“They do not age.”

“...Huh.” Hector glanced at Garovel, who gave an affirming nod.

Carver raised an eyebrow. “You seem far less surprised than I was when I first found that out. In fact, I am still not quite sure that I believe it. It is true that I have not seen any Hun’Sho show signs of aging, but I have only been here for five years, and perhaps that is simply not long enough.”

Hector supposed he didn’t have much room to be too shocked by that particular revelation, given his own status as a servant.

It still felt really weird when he thought about it like that. Immortality.

Better to just not think about it that way then, he decided.

‘Ask him how the hell he ended up in this place to begin with.’

‘Didn’t he say he was part of an exploration team or something?’

‘Yeah, but ask for details.’

“...So, uh. How did you end up down here all by yourself, again?”

“I was part of an expedition that went horribly awry, essentially. Not so unlike you and your friends, actually. Diego described some of the details of your misfortune for me. What charisma, that guy. I have to admit, I’m envious of him. I really hope I can be friends with him. He was so nice, even after I made a fool of myself and started acting like a blustering idiot. If I had those kinds of social skills, why, my whole life would have gone so much more smoothly. Maybe I could have even convinced Janice Greenwood to go out on a date with me back when we were--”

Hector kind of stopped listening. ‘Garovel, this guy is all over the place...’

‘Can you blame him? Think about it. Sure, he said all that stuff earlier about scholarly work and studying the Hun’Sho, but you have to remember, he’s also been stuck in a hole of molten death with a bunch of fiery weirdos for the past five years.’

Not an inaccurate summation, Hector supposed.

‘Honestly, I feel bad for the guy,’ said Garovel. ‘And I’d find it suspicious if he didn’t seem at least a little crazy by now.’

Carver was still going. “--and then, we could go to an amusement park and get ice cream and go on a roller coaster ride. I’d probably vomit, but it’d be okay, because of the recently-eaten ice cream, see? That’s a trick my uncle taught me when I was a kid. Good god of fire, I miss processed sweets like that. I wonder if there’ve been any big technological breakthroughs with sweets and other foods from the surface. I feel like there must have been. The world is so full of--”

“I’m sorry.” Hector held up a gauntleted hand. “Could you, ah, go back to telling me about your expedition?”

“Oh, um. Certainly. What would you like to know about it?”

“Mainly... I’m curious about your companions. They must have been strong to make it all the way here, right?”

Carver’s expression tightened somewhat. “Yes, I suppose they were.”

Hector merely waited for elaboration, which was slow to arrive.

“...They were like yourself. Servants of reapers. Very reliable as bodyguards, certainly, but I’ve known them since I was just a sprightly Melmoorian lad. Ettol, in particular, has always been like an uncle to me. So strong, yet so persuasive, too. I swear, he could convince a pack of hungry wolves to play fetch with him, if he wanted. Why, there was this one time when I was twelve--”

‘Ettol?’ said Garovel.

‘You know of him?’

‘No. But that name is peculiar.’

‘How so?’

‘In Ancient Melmoorian folklore, Ettol is a kind of trickster deity. The God of Impulse. It’s not a normal name that someone would give their kid--or even a name that many people would recognize in this day and age.’

‘...So you’re saying this guy’s uncle is some kind of ancient god?’

‘No, Hector,’ the reaper laughed. ‘I’m saying it’s probably an alias. Or Carver is lying to us. That’s always a possibility.’

‘Or it’s an ancient god.’

‘I highly doubt that.’

‘Look, Garovel, I just found out that lava people exist. I’m open to the possibility of ancient gods existing, and I think you should be, too.’

‘Okay, Hector. Whatever you say.’

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