The Zombie Knight

Sixteenth Oath -- Rush and Return

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four: ‘An untimely arrival...’

It took a while for everyone to get a handle on what had just happened. The lingering blue sparks around Rathmore’s Gate seemed to help them conceptualize it, somewhat, but even so, the fact that they had apparently teleported over such a tremendous distance was no small matter.

Hector might’ve been right there with them in their confusion, if he wasn’t so distracted with something else--or rather, someone else.

Eleyo. Or, no. Not Eleyo. Royo Raju. Reborn with the remains of the God of Growth.

The fact that it was Royo who had teleported them all just now was what concerned Hector. Granted, he’d used some sort of magical artifact or something in that “Staff of Unso,” but would he have been able to do that before?

And the way he spoke...

It had certainly sounded like Royo had some sort of plan. Hector wondered what it was.

‘Well,’ said Garovel at length, ‘now we can get to Capaporo safely. It may take us another day or two, but at least there isn’t a feldeath and an army of worms in the way. As far as I know, that is.’

Zeff stepped forward, trailing rocky dust behind him. He was quite the ragged picture, what with his wild and mussed hair that looked like it would fight any comb that tried to put it back in order. “Lead on, then,” he said, and he raised everyone up on a short platform of ice. “I’ll carry us to our destination as quickly as I am able.”

Hector intervened, wearing normal armor now instead of the cooling variant. “Wait, um--”

The expression on Zeff’s face did not suggest that the matter was open for discussion. “What?” he said flatly.

Hector held his ground, though. “Let me do it.” And he raised a platform of iron on top of Zeff’s. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?”

Zeff did not look like he cared.

Axiolis floated up behind the man. ‘This is Hector’s territory. Let’s defer to his discretion.’

At that, the Lord Elroy seemed to relent, and everyone felt the iron platform sink a little as the ice beneath it dematerialized. “Go quickly, then. Everyone is waiting for us.”

Hector knew it. Better than Zeff did, probably. He hadn’t forgotten Rasalased’s words. That Asad was being held prisoner.

He was going to have to tell Zeff about that. And soon, too. For the moment, though, he focused on his materialization. If nothing else, it would be a good opportunity to test his new limits. A giant platform moving over a forest? That would take some doing. But Hector was--

“Hold on,” said Manuel Delaguna, which took a bit of the wind out of Hector’s sails. “Is someone missing?”

Everyone stopped to look around at one another.

The Hun’Kui weren’t with them anymore, of course, but that didn’t seem like cause for the concern in Manuel’s voice. Aside from them, Hector counted the four servants, the four reapers, Elise, and Mr. Sheridan.

Shit. Manuel was right.

‘Carver,’ said Yangéra. ‘He’s not here.’

‘Eleyo--or Royo, I suppose--must have decided to keep him behind,’ said Garovel.

‘Why would he do that?’ said Lorios.

‘Any number of reasons,’ said Garovel. ‘At a guess, though, I’d say it has something to do with this “Ettol” figure we’ve been hearing about. Royo seemed interested in him before, and Carver claimed to be related to him.’

‘Hmm.’

‘There’s not much we can do about it now,’ said Garovel. ‘And if Royo wants him for information, then I doubt he’ll hurt him. He is probably not in danger.’

Hector wondered about that. He honestly didn’t know what to make of Royo anymore.

“Hector,” said Zeff, sounding annoyed again. “Hurry up. We can move while they talk.”

The man wasn’t wrong, Hector knew. So he set to work, raising the platform up higher and higher until it cleared the canopy of trees.

‘Which way?’ Hector asked.

Garovel pointed to his left, and Hector grew the platform forward and then curved it around so that they would all be facing the direction that they were going.

He’d never used such a large volume of iron as method of transportation before. It was a bit strange but not difficult. In fact, the Scarf of Amordiin was making it rather easy.

Due to its ability to help him sense the movement of air all around him, Hector had a very clear picture of even the densest parts of the forest. He could sense where all the tree trunks were, where the leaves were, the underbrush, the rocks, and even the animals. A snake here, a rabbit there, a couple bears, a wolf, a group of monkeys, and tons of insects--though those were perhaps too small to sense individually. Maybe if he concentrated on them, but now wasn’t the time for that.

He focused on his platform. Because the open air was telling him so much, Hector could see all the gaps in the forest--and therefore, all the places in which he could materialize iron without crushing anything. Well, except maybe a couple shrubs here and there. They’d probably be fine, though.

It was helpful, because he didn’t want to obliterate the ecosystem. The area of the forest immediately around Rathmore’s Gate was still plenty ruined already. Hell, even now that he’d carried them some distance away from it, he could still sense entire trees that had been uprooted or splintered in half. He noticed one tree that wasn’t touching the ground. Instead, it was lodged horizontally in the canopy, dangling in midair. Some birds had made a nest on it.

All in all, it made for a type of training that he had never done before. Navigating the forest with a building-sized block of iron, creating and destroying his work around every single object and leaving it all unscathed--it certainly demanded attention to detail. And without the Scarf of Amordiin, he didn’t think he would have been able to do this, not without simply flattening everything in their path.

But after a while, Hector started to get the hang of it a little too well, he felt. Even as he increased the speed to accommodate Zeff, Hector found himself thinking that this wasn’t really challenging enough.

Even without his most recent emergence, he felt like he could have pulled this off as long as he had the Scarf. That was what really made this feel trivially easy. He could simply conceptualize his iron as if it were squeezing its way through all the holes in the forest, like a wave of iron jelly. Or iron sludge, perhaps.

Hmm.

Maybe that fight with the worm had more of an effect on his perception than he’d thought. He could visualize the beast’s movements pretty damn well now, after having followed it so attentively over such an extended battle.

Regardless, Hector wanted to try something more difficult, but he was reluctant to get too crazy with his experimentation. He wasn’t the only one riding this thing, after all.

“How long will it take to reach Warrenhold?” said Zeff.

‘At this pace?’ said Garovel. ‘Maybe three or four hours.’

Zeff didn’t say anything to that, but he was probably still displeased with their current speed, Hector figured. Hector wouldn’t have minded increasing it even further, but Elise and Mr. Sheridan probably wouldn’t appreciate that very much, and their safety was most important.

Then again, as Hector thought about it, Mr. Sheridan had seemed like kind of a lunatic, so maybe he would have liked to go even faster.

Whatever. This pace was plenty fast, Hector felt, and four hours was making good time, considering their current location in the Carthrace Nature Reserve was on the opposite side of the country to Warrenhold.

But that was Atreya for you. He’d almost forgotten how tiny it was. After gallivanting all over Sair with the Rainlords, it was nice to be back home, where traveling didn’t take so damn long. That trip from Luzo to Moaban had been a little ridiculous.

Mr. Sheridan was eyeing him quite a bit, Hector noticed.

Hmm. Nervous, perhaps? Maybe because he wasn’t sure if Hector had completely forgiven him for trying to kill him during the tournament?

Good. Because Hector hadn’t. Nor did he intend to. Obviously, it was no big deal as far as Hector himself was concerned, but what about other people? How was he supposed to trust that Mr. Sheridan wouldn’t just up and shoot somebody else in Warrenhold? Someone who couldn’t simply regenerate?

Maybe Mr. Sheridan really did know better. Maybe he would never do such a thing to a non-servant. But after that incident, “maybe” wasn’t good enough for Hector. As soon as they reached Warrenhold, he meant to send Mr. Sheridan on his merry way back to Intar or wherever the hell he came from.

‘So,’ said Garovel in the echo of privacy, ‘any idea yet about what this second “blessing” is?’

‘...I was kinda hoping YOU would know something,’ said Hector.

‘Bah. Wish we had more time to figure it out.’

‘Might not even matter right now. Malast said it would take a while to grow.’

‘True. But still. Can’t say I’m not curious. “Domain,” huh? And you already had this “Focus” thing from Rasalased, too? Do you have any idea what that one does, by the way?’

He did, though he wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. ‘Uh...’

‘I thought Rasalased just granted you the ability to materialize Haqq’s shield as you please, but that doesn’t sound like something that would be called Focus, to me.’

‘Yeah, about that, ah... I think that’s because I can... kind of... concentrate on multiple things at once...’

Garovel paused. ‘...Excuse me?’

‘I mean, I’m still, uh... trying to figure it out. And maybe it’s not that simple. But, um... yeah. My concentration seems better overall, lately, I guess...’

‘Why are you only telling me about this now?’ said Garovel.

‘Well, I--uh. I was still figuring it out. And I didn’t even think it was related to Rasalased’s blessing until I heard Malast mention it.’

‘Huh...’

‘And, I guess, uh... I guess I kinda thought it was just natural. Er, uh, I mean, I thought it was because of all the meditating I do...’

‘Hmm. That’s reasonable enough, I suppose. And your meditation should be improving your concentration, too. But yeah, maybe not to THAT extent.’

‘Ah...’

‘Still. Your concentration was pretty good already. I’ve always thought you were a little absurd when it came to meditation. So if you got a boost ON TOP of that, then... Hmm. Hey, wait a minute. Is that why you’re able to just “tune me out,” sometimes? Like I’m some kind of friggin’ radio broadcast?’

‘Uh... I don’t know...’

‘It’s really obnoxious when you do that, by the way. Dunno if I mentioned that earlier.’

‘Ah. Sorry. But, I mean, it’s not like I do it for no reason.’

‘You could just ask me to be quiet. Y’know, politely. Believe it or not, I AM capable of that.’

‘...I find that hard to believe.’

‘And here comes the sass. Alright, fine. Maybe I do OCCASIONALLY talk a little too much, but c’mon, if we’re in a life and death situation, and you need to concentrate, then just say so!’

‘Oh, you mean like when a worm is trying to eat us?’

‘What? Oh. Hey. Look. You managed just fine, didn’t you? And sometimes--MOST times, even--I have insightful things to say. Which is my job, by the way. As a reaper, that is. I’m tasked with imparting all manner of mind-blowing wisdom.’

‘Uh-huh...’

‘I am a waterfall of knowledge, Hector. Trying to stem the tide of information that flows out of me is quite frankly impossible.’

‘So in other words, I should just ignore you, sometimes.’

‘...Yeah, probably.’

Hector let a breath of laughter slip out, but the others didn’t seem to notice, no doubt because of the howling wind rushing past as they traversed the top of the forest.

Hector had added a guardrail, of sorts, to the platform, as well as a ridged grip for the floor so that everyone didn’t have to worry so much about sliding around.

‘If we’re being completely serious, though,’ said Garovel, ‘then you really shouldn’t make a habit out of ignoring me during battle. I can provide observational support, which could very well save our asses, someday. Granted, now that you’ve got that spiffy Scarf, you might not actually need all that much observational support, but the basic principle that two heads are better than one still applies, I think.’

‘That’s... true.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘We should probably work on that, though. I feel like we’re, maybe, not working together in combat as... efficiently as we could be.’

‘...Maybe so,’ said Garovel. ‘And I’ve certainly been feeling a bit useless, lately. It would be nice to change that.’

Hector blinked, because it didn’t sound like the reaper was joking. ‘What? You’re not useless.’

Garovel made no response.

‘Garovel, are you being serious?’ said Hector. ‘You’re NOT useless! How could you even think that?!’

‘I wonder.’

Hector couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The reaper had done so much for him. He had to know that, right?

‘I’m not trying to sound depressed or pessimistic,’ said Garovel. ‘Rather, it’s the opposite.’

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Hector, c’mon. You’ve kinda been on a tear, lately. If I don’t start working harder to step my game up, then you’re probably just gonna leave me in the dust.’

‘I...’ Was that really how Garovel saw things? What was he even supposed to say to something like that?

‘It’s a GOOD thing, is what I’m saying. I want to make sure that I’m not holding you back.’

Holy shit. That might have been the most flattering thing anyone had ever said to him. ‘I... you’re not... Garovel, that’s not true.’

‘Oh, shut up. Yes, it is. Anyway, forget about it.’

‘What the--?! How am I supposed to forget about it?!’

‘I dunno. Maybe I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Point is, we need to stay focused on our objective. Also, there’s a highway coming up soon, so you should probably adjust your platform so that you don’t squash any of the cars or the people inside them.’

That was a good idea.

Hector wondered briefly if he could make his iron move seamlessly around a group of cars in motion. He felt like he could, but something about the notion of experimenting with other people’s lives struck him as something he probably shouldn’t do.

Instead, he came up with a much safer experiment, something he’d been wanting to try for a while now.

As soon as he sensed the highway that Garovel was talking about, Hector slowed the pace of his iron, much to Zeff’s expressed chagrin. Hector eliminated most of the platform below them, keeping only a comparatively thin layer for everyone to continue riding on and four tall legs.

His work was suddenly much more akin to a giant, moving table.

The shift in weight caused a bit of turbulence, which seemed to alarm the others, rather understandably, but Hector got it under control.

He wanted to eliminate the legs entirely. He wanted the platform to simply float, like one of his cubes in orbit.

It was similar, in theory, but the weight differential made for quite the leap in difficulty. The larger the mass, the more impact gravity had on his work--and therefore, the more he needed to counter its effects. With just an iron platform, that was straightforward enough, but there were people here, too, and they were weighing the platform down in different places. The same kind of “balance” that he used for his cubes in orbit had to be greatly adjusted here.

And Diego certainly wasn’t helping, what with the way he was walking around, talking to everyone without a care in the world. The man probably had to get up close so that they could hear him over the wind, but still, at the moment, Hector was finding it rather obnoxious.

‘Agh,’ growled Hector. ‘Tell Diego to stand still for a minute.’

‘Hmm? Okay. Hey, Diego! Quit moving around so much! Hector’s trying to do something!’

The Lord Redwater looked confused but acquiesced.

That was better.

He vanished the legs of the giant table as they neared the highway, and then he slapped a coating around the bottom of the remaining platform. But it wasn’t just a normal coating. It was a hovering stabilizer, of sorts.

Hector couldn’t simply have the platform itself hover, because the platform needed to remain stationary so that everyone didn’t slide off of it like a moving walkway. This hadn’t been an issue before, because on the ground, he could have the top of the platform remain still while everything below it grew and pushed onward. In midair, though, there was no longer anything to push against, which was why this new, floating “holster” for the platform was necessary.

And it worked, just as he thought it would. The platform soared over the rushing cars below and up into the night sky.

‘Hector, holy shit!’

It was actually quite difficult, Hector discovered. Even now, with everyone staying still, he was having trouble keeping the encased platform fully stable. That, and every little jostle was worrisome in its own way, threatening each time to destroy his concentration, which he very much needed right now.

The others were talking more loudly now, perhaps even to him, but he still couldn’t make out their words over the wind. And he was busy trying not to panic and drop everyone, anyway.

Why the hell had he thought this was a good idea? There were two non-servants in their group. They would surely die if they fell from this height or at this speed.

‘Hector, we’re going the wrong way now,’ said Garovel.

Agh. Shit.

The wind was becoming a problem. The higher they went, the more intense it got. And it was somehow easier to make the platform ascend than descend. Probably because in the beginning, he’d been most worried about crashing into the ground and killing everyone, so he’d decided to err on the side of upward movement, just in case.

The idea of descending was simply more frightening. That was the problem, Hector realized. It wasn’t that it was actually more difficult to pull off. He was just more afraid to do it.

But now he didn’t have a choice. They’d have to go back down eventually. And at this height, going back down a little was no big deal, right?

Goddammit. This whole thing was way more nerve-wracking than he thought it would be. He had to get a hold of himself. They were flying. Under their own power.

He tried to ease up. He had to weaken the force that he’d applied in order to counter gravity.

It worked. They began to lose altitude. But not without more turbulence. Considerably more. He heard a feminine shriek.

Sorry, Elise.

He stabilized his work and course-corrected.

Yeah. This was a better altitude. Still maybe a little too high, but the wind wasn’t so crazy, at least.

He opened his eyes. When had he even closed them? He’d been relying on the Scarf completely, he realized. Thankfully, he’d made sure to keep it wrapped snugly around his neck after removing his armor earlier.

Everyone was staring at him.

Not knowing what to do, he tried to pretend like he didn’t notice.

It didn’t work.

Diego started walking over to him, though he was obviously being slow and deliberate about it this time, which Hector appreciated. It was much easier to account for the balance changes.

“So, uh,” said Diego, once he was close enough, “how are you doing over here, Hector?”

That seemed like a strangely plain question. “Ah... I’m alright.”

“It just occurred to me to that, despite all the craziness we’ve been through together recently, you and I haven’t really spoken all that much.”

And as was often the case, Hector wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Garovel helped him out, though. ‘That’s sort of a running theme with Hector. He’s not the most talkative.’

“He seemed rather talkative with Malast.” Diego rubbed his jaw.

‘Ah,’ said Garovel. ‘Yeah. Uh. Well, what can I say? He has his moments.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Yangéra.

Hector didn’t know what to make of the way she was staring at him.

Garovel changed the subject. ‘I don’t suppose you managed to get away with any of that treasure, eh?’

Diego frowned as he reached into his vest. “I only managed to swipe a few jewels there at the end.” He held out his hand to show his spoils. “What about you?”

‘We got a few things. We’ll show you later.’

“Hmm. Looking forward to it.”

‘By the way,’ said Yangéra, ‘what the hell was all that stuff that Malast was saying about “blessings”? I’ve been meaning to ask.’

Ah. That subject. Hector just let Garovel handle it, as usual. The reaper told them basically the same things that he and Hector had already discussed. Hector did notice that Garovel kept things vague when talking about Focus, however. Not that they had much detail to actually go into, of course, but still. It seemed like Garovel didn’t want to reveal even what little they already understood about the concentration boost it provided. Instead, he simply said that he and Hector were still trying to figure it out--which, in fairness, was not a lie.

From there, the two reapers took over the conversation for a while. Yangéra inquired about Warrenhold, and Garovel offered answers. He told her of how spacious it was, how it had seen better days, how they were currently in the middle of trying to restore it, how there was a lake near it, and how it was exceedingly durable thanks to an integrated material called nightrock.

Zeff and Axiolis came over as Garovel was explaining that last part.

‘It will be interesting to see Warrenhold again,’ said Axiolis.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ said Garovel. ‘Shenado said you’d been there before.’

‘Somehow, I doubt that is all she said,’ said Axiolis.

Garovel chortled. ‘She said you hated it.’

The other reaper’s skull-faced expression seemed to stiffen, somehow. ‘It is true that I have little love for that place. It caused considerable grief for our kin in the past.’

‘I’ve heard,’ said Garovel.

Garovel reiterated details of Warrenhold’s “pest control” mechanism that they had learned from Voreese.

It didn’t seem to do much for Axiolis’ mood. Or Zeff’s.

Zeff was staring at him again, Hector noticed. Did he want to ask a question? If so, why wasn’t he saying anything? Maybe he was just waiting for an opening. The reapers were talking to each other again, so--

“You achieved emergence, didn’t you?” said Zeff.

All the reapers went quiet.

“...Yeah,” was all Hector could think to say.

“Good,” said the Lord Elroy. “We will test your new limits as soon as we have the space and opportunity to do so. In the meantime, how difficult are you finding it to maintain this... flying platform of yours?”

“Ah... it’s... kinda hard. It’s the same basic principle as the orbiting technique, but there are a lot more little things to account for. I feel like, maybe, a more aerodynamic shape than a simple platform could make things easier, but I’m not really sure. The added complexity might just screw everything up, instead.”

Zeff nodded. “Yes, perhaps it would. We can experiment with that when safety is not as great of a concern as it is now.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“But do you feel that you are already near the limit of your ability? Or do you think you can do more than this?”

A tough question. Hector took a few moments to try and take stock of himself. His concentration was divided again, he noticed. A split between maintaining the variable factors of the flight and simply considering Zeff’s words. Sure, the divide wasn’t difficult when compared to what he’d had to do during that worm fight, but after learning about his Focus, he was more mindful of the division in his thoughts than ever.

Which, in its own way, he supposed, was creating another divide, wasn’t it? Instead of splitting his attention in two, it was being split three ways now.

Kind of a waste, then, this third thing. But it was hard to get rid of, somehow. Agh.

“...No,” said Hector. “I don’t think this is all that close to my new limit. It’s tough, but I feel like it’s getting easier as I do it more.”

“Hmm.” Zeff folded his arms. “Let’s increase the difficulty, then. Try putting something in orbit around you, right now.”

Diego held up a hand. “Ah--do you think that’s really a good idea? Shouldn’t you guys save the training for later?”

Zeff regarded the Lord Redwater with a raised eyebrow. “Are you worried about safety? Because as has already been mentioned, we have not forgotten it.”

“Sure, but, c’mon, we just escaped the Undercrust and twenty-seven different brushes with death--at least, that’s what it felt like. Can’t you just take a moment to relax a little while we wait to arrive? You didn’t even sleep or eat anything while we were in Himmekel, did you?”

Zeff glowered. “You have little room to speak. Why were you and Yangéra so exhausted when we found you in front of Malast, hmm?”

Diego opened his mouth but didn’t respond this time.

Zeff didn’t let up. “How close did you come to losing her, exactly? And how seriously have you been taking your training, recently? Did you train at all during the last two days?”

Diego just closed his mouth again.

“That’s what I thought.” Zeff pointed to the other side of the platform. “Go practice your pan-forma.”

“But we’re still tired from earlier, and--”

“All the better for your training, then. Go on.”

Diego looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He turned and walked over to where Zeff had pointed, and Yangéra followed.

Hector watched them go. “That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Warriors are not forged through comfort and coddling. I am sure Diego knows that, too, but it seems he needed reminding.”

“Still...”

“Focus on yourself,” said Zeff. “Do as I instructed. Put an object in orbit around you.”

Hector did so.

From there, Zeff kept pressing him further and further, bit by bit, trying to slowly and incrementally get Hector to find the new limit of his ability, but there wasn’t enough time left. The training ended up being cut short when they arrived at Warrenhold.

Hector controlled their descent with nervous and careful discomfort. When they finally touched ground again, he annihilated most of his work and left it in the shape of a short, wide staircase for everyone, pointing them in the direction of Warrenhold’s aboveground entrance.

No one was immediately around to greet them, but it was still the dead of night, so that wasn’t so surprising. Hector focused on what the Scarf was telling him, searching the area in a way that his eyes couldn’t with all this darkness.

Garovel got there before him, though. ‘Your mother and Madame Carthrace are asleep in their respective rooms in the Tower of Night. Mr. Easton is in the Entry Tower, along with four souls I don’t recognize.’

He let the reaper lead the way.

It was a strange feeling, being back here again. Being home again, he supposed.

It was nice. That was what was strange about it.

Repairs to the Entry Tower were coming along, he noticed. The first chamber actually looked fairly nice now, if still littered with dirt and stone dust. No more cracks in the walls or the floor, and the stairs leading downward were no longer slightly bent or uneven.

And of course, there was electricity now, too. Actual, functioning lamps adorned the narrow entry hall, inviting them further in. Back when he had first left for Sair, Warrenhold had still been waiting on the new generator to arrive and lift them out of the candlelit darkness.

It wasn’t much longer until they found Jamal Easton and their two guests.

Hector had never met them before, yet he recognized them almost immediately from their dark complexion and the young man’s yellow eyes. Without a doubt, that was Asad’s son. Which meant the older woman next to him was probably the Lady Najir.

Zeff and Axiolis rushed forward to greet them. “Samira! Midhat! It is wonderful to see you both in good health!”

Samira seemed more than a little caught off guard when the Lord Elroy moved in close and hugged her, even lifting her off her feet like a sack of potatoes.

Hector stared, arguably even more shocked by what he was seeing than she was.

“Oi--! Hah--! Y-yes! It is good to see you, too, Lord Zeff!” Her Valgan accent was much thicker than Asad’s, and her gold-and-black robes dangled loosely over her whole body, covering everything but her face and hands.

Zeff let her back down, leaving the woman looking somewhat traumatized by the experience, and then went for Midhat, first shaking the young man’s hand vigorously, only to pull him and lift him off his feet, too. “Oh, I haven’t seen you in ages! You’re almost a grown man, already!”

“Yes--I--Lord--thank--!”

Samira’s apparent reaper floated forward. ‘Lord Zeff, what are you doing? I am not sure this behavior is appropriate.’

‘Ah, I apologize,’ said Axiolis. ‘Zeff and I have been through quite a lot, lately. We are genuinely overjoyed to see you.’

The other reaper didn’t argue further.

Zeff let Midhat down. “I wish I could stay and talk more, but I must go and retrieve Asad.”

It was then that Mr. Easton approached Hector from the side and took his attention. His uniform was different than Hector remembered. The suit was even blacker than the man himself was. “Lord Goffe. There was no word of your return. We would have organized a welcome.”

“Ah, yeah. It was kind of sudden. I thought I’d be, uh--ah... well, it doesn’t matter now, I guess.” He took a breath and rethought his next words. “I haven’t actually ‘returned’ yet, though. I have to leave again for, like, a day or two. Then I’ll be back.”

“I see. I thought you might have returned after hearing the news.”

Hector paused at that. “What news?”

“So you haven’t heard. Two of Atreya’s four largest banks have collapsed. More than a million people have declared bankruptcy in the last two weeks alone.”

‘Holy fucking shit-grenades,’ said Garovel privately.

Hector just sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“They’re saying we’re about to see the greatest economic depression in the history of the country,” said Mr. Easton.

“Hoo boy.” Mr. Sheridan walked up behind Hector. “Sounds like a real pickle.” He offered Mr. Easton a handshake. “Good to meetcha. Name’s Robert Sheridan. West Intar Company.”

“Jamal Easton. Head of Security for Lord Goffe.”

“Oh! Head of Security, eh? You sure this kid needs anyone to protect him?! From what I’ve seen, he’s the one doing the protecting!”

“Ah. Well, yes...”

“Only teasing, of course,” said Mr. Sheridan. “Important fella, your lord here. Nothin’ but respect for him. Saved my life, y’know. Great guy. Just the best. I hope we can--”

“Mr. Sheridan,” said Hector. “I’m sure you’re tired. Mr. Easton will show you to a room where you can rest.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Sheridan, “well, you’re too kind. I am pretty exhausted, now that you mention it. Not as young as I used to be, unfortunately. If I could trouble you for a meal as well, I would be eternally grateful. Even more than I already am, I mean!”

“Of course,” said Hector. “Just give us a minute.” He pulled Mr. Easton aside in order to keep his next words just between the two of them. “Keep a close eye on this guy for me while I’m away. Be nice to him, but I don’t want him wandering around on his own. I don’t know if I trust him, yet.”

Mr. Easton just stared at him for a second.

“...What’s the matter?” said Hector. Shit. Had he said something weird just now? Or stupid?

The man blinked. “Nothing at all, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

“...Thanks.” That was a relief. Hector was about to break away from him until he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and here.” He pulled out the Shifting Spear of Logante from the back of his waistband. “I want you to take this. Careful with it.”

Mr. Easton took it. “...What is it?”

Hector took a couple minutes to explain its basic functionality, going over the voice commands that Garovel had told him about earlier. Hector suspected that there were more commands that he didn’t know about yet, but Garovel was busy talking to the two new Najirs at the moment.

By the end of the explanation, Mr. Easton looked a bit overwhelmed.

“...You don’t have to actually use it, if you don’t want to,” said Hector. “I know it’s kinda weird, uh... so...”

“No, ah--thank you. I will give it a try.”

And again, he was about to let Mr. Easton go, until he remembered another thing. “Oh, and uh, please make sure that Mr. Sheridan knows about Warrenhold’s weird, ah... psychological effects on people. I can’t remember if I ever told him about that or not, so...”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ah--thanks. Again.” And finally, he released Mr. Easton.

Hector breathed another sigh. There were so many things to take care of. And now there was some sort of financial crisis to worry about on top of everything else?

He was feeling pretty exhausted himself, now that he was allowing himself to relax a little. And he really would’ve liked to sit down and have a nice meal, too. He hadn’t eaten very frequently in the Undercrust, partly because of the food shortage in Babbadelo and partly because it wasn’t particularly to his tastes--especially after the numbing of pain wore off and he felt like he’d eaten a bowl of lava. Even Carver’s biosphere had only had vegetables.

The more Hector allowed himself to think about it, the more he began to crave a hearty meal. Or two. Or five.

Maybe it was better to just not think about it, then.

He observed the Najirs again. Asad had sent them here in order to open the door to the Undercrust for them, which was a bit unnecessary now of course, but as Hector recalled, Asad had also ordered Jada to go with them.

And yet she had ended up staying with Asad and everyone else, instead.

Hector wondered why. He also remembered Garovel mentioning something strange with them as well. Some sort of family difficulties, perhaps.

He empathized.

Hector wondered if he should even bother greeting his own mother before setting out again.

Probably not, he decided. Garovel had said she was sleeping, anyway. No point in disturbing her. Oh, but he should’ve asked Mr. Easton how she was doing, at least.

Bah.

He hunted down a phone in order to give Gina a quick update and also ask for one in return, but she hadn’t heard from Roman since she’d last spoken to Hector. It was nice to hear her voice again, but he knew he didn’t have time to enjoy the conversation--or even to explain fully. It sounded like she had quite a few questions for him--particularly why he was back on the surface without Roman--but Hector ended up just telling her that it was a long story and not to worry about it for now.

She didn’t seem pleased with being left hanging like that, but time was a factor here, and it looked like Zeff, Diego, and Manuel were ready to go again.

So they did. The group of four servants and four reapers made their way down to the lowest chamber in the Tower of Night and the heavy, round door to the Undercrust. Their reapers latched onto their bodies, and then one by one, with Hector going last, they jumped into the pitch dark hole.

It was going to be a very long fall.

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