Ivory was lowered from the suspended stage—a round platform floating high across a cavernous, dark mountain. Stone Bastion, it was called. Further down, her eyes roamed the endless vastness of stones, reversed spires, and small cliffs. This was still Valor—Cintry Range, but here, a lesser clan had dominance—a vassal clan of Valor, Clan Wane.
The round stage hummed, pressing against the crude solid earth, halting. She leaped out, graceful, of course, with two men accompanying this small excursion of hers: an Aspirant, Delney, and an Excubitor, whose face was hidden within a solid glass mask—a mirror of the collective observed reality. Disturbing.
None knew, but her brief exile had been lifted as a consequence of the coming coronation, a day from now. Odd that this proved a necessity. Ivory sensed the forces that projected such needs… the constant, almost filicide. "Almost" being the word left out of Argon's awareness.
Not that she cared for it… In the end, this provided greater authority. Now she was known; vassal clans would feign a gregarious nature to seek favor. Good. Let them show the animals that they were. She drowned the bubbling emotions, poised, and took in the external world.
A capacious space with cubic obsidian structures segmented throughout. Some round ones were walled by larger squares. Like a coast, the arrangement divided the cave. Above, the roof stretched beyond 100 meters. A behemoth of a place… Farther, the black jails were located. These acted as a subsidiary prison till the crimes were deemed gruesome enough to warrant an eternity in them.
Kabel was here.
She was to be guided to him.
Ahead, a cubic structure, white light beaming out from the base, made a sound. A quiet sliding of metal, similar to the opening of sliding doors. She knew they knew of her sudden presence. Normally, this would procure bombardment with whiteTrumpets; however, spyeyes would be kept close. That, or the multipurpose Eiyas. They would know of her. They would try to seek knowledge for the reason. They would realize the motive. They would come.
And they did.
Spindly men, dressed in side-buttoned coats, with metal bodices covering their chests. Something of a panoply, she thought, but knew of their complete ineffectiveness against modern weaponry. A whiteTrumpet would shatter it. The strange arms of the free cities would make paper of it, and oredite would cleave it and the wearer. Unless, that is, the armor was made of the same.
She imagined it was not.
Delney took the liberty to step up, siding her. He said, "This endeavor of yours, my Grace, can prove detrimental to the reputation of the clan."
"My visit to the Stone Bastion would prove detrimental?" She allowed the conversation.
"Yes…" He said, "From the days of Mel the Stupid, Wane had sought some connection, control, to Valor."
"And you think me foolish enough to accept such authority?"
"It is the nature of humans to accept the sweeter deal."
Ivory maintained a concise silence, noting, then said, "You are a conformist."
"I do not see how that relates to the issue."
"Then let me say this," Ivory replied. "Between one taught to follow all rules and one made to lord over them, which would be more subservient to authority?"
He scowled for just a moment. "I only want what's best." He said, "Three attempts on your life; the Wanes might find a means to use that."
"Unless they desire to make it a fourth, I do not see the force that invited this thought to you." She lampooned. "Wane will remain as they have been, and after the final days of Argon Valor, they will bow and obey 'my' rules."
He bowed. "I hope so."
"The Theocracy hopes so," Ivory corrected.
And now he smiles. What faith they have in their institution; that collection of history, conquests, deaths, rage, disgust, power. From the days of Song Conquest to the last of the previous age. That was the Church of the Song. The Aspirants, regardless of the chapter, would see themselves as high beings for that sole reason. But they lack the necessary awareness to discern a simple fact. They, too, are a cog, an expendable aspect of a large corporation.
Safely in the White Keep of Bolt, in their 12-floored towers, they would think greatness for their existence… Ivory thinks to mock them. Even the Gresendent sisters were allowed to wield the power, whilst they… they toiled, researched just for others to gain.
Ultimately, all Aspirants were conformists. Except one—her mind ended in that eventuality… thinking about Kabel.
He would die. Almost surely, this contingency was a fixed point. Argon would desire his head—a show of some inner pride. To prove something. What a mistake that was! History taught these things. From the days of Eidain Valor, the founder of the Valor Clan, Valor had never been one to survive rebellion.
Against the Church, they would fall.
How could she stop that?
Argon would request the execution, the church would find it a reason to release their plagues on them, and soon, despite the absolute struggles, Valor would be dust by the year's end.
This event made beasts of both sides.
It must stop. Kabel must renounce the church!
The two men reared from the sloping side of the hill. Having raced towards her, their motions carried that somewhat atavistic nature. She gave an exiguous acknowledgment; they smiled. "Your Grace." One said, a middle-aged man—a single strand of silver poking out from his tousled dark hair. "What brings you to the Stone Bastion?"
"My wants." She said, attending her gaze on the other. A more quiet brightCrown with lighter hair—four strands from the initial count. Concealed, yes, he still was the true lord between the two. "It's nice that the lord of Wane himself has come to greet me."
He smiled, bowed. "Forgive my actions." He said, "Rumors of your… unprotected nature merited such pessimistic conduct."
He insults himself and me at the same time. Ivory saw the higher cognition within the aging man, a thing that had not weakened his mental prowess. She gave a dismissive nod. "I suppose this conduct of yours is too shy to reveal itself. They must hide, almost like they wish concealment from the eyes of Valor."
An impassive look screened his face. "No such thing." He said, "We are all Valor." Then with a higher tone. "Show yourselves."
Light peeled and swirled in a hypnotic dance, rippling like disturbed liquid. It blends, hardening into outlines, then forms of men. Excubitors, deadEyes, Handlers, and darkCrowns dressed in armor. None Oredite. "I see." Ivory thought. I fell for his plan.
Behind the lord of Wane were hundreds of soldiers, all battle-ready. An army. This is to show me something. Two things, likely: Wane is not an army to face. Wane is a friend to have.
Delney would find glee in this.
Ivory said, "What an assemblage, impressive."
He nodded downward. "I doubt ours can hold a candle to Valor."
"Ours?" Ivory frowns. "Do you, Lord Wane, fancy yourself a highness? Do you forget you are a mere representative of Valor in Stone Bastion? There is no 'our.' There is only one: Valor. Does this offend you?"
Then, a twitch tugged his lips—an uncontrollable reaction to the rearing internal emotion. This had harmed his pride, and refusal would only cost him more. The sword was the ultimate tool in calming the beasts of men. Or at least, the threat of it.
Treason cannot be tolerated. Not now.
He said, "Come, let me take you to Kabel."
"Very well."
I believe in a singular force that guides the actions of humanity… The search for uniqueness. An exalted need to be different. To garner the rewards of that distinction. Regardless of the filtered actions, of the multilayered meanings… the sole reason remains the same. Uniqueness—Author unknown.
Kabel sat on a flat chair, staring at the dark, sleek walls. He looked up listlessly when Ivory entered, smiled. "How nice it is for you to be my executioner."
"Be different," Ivory said, taking in the somber nature of the space, allowing its change in her. A compact room, barely 4 meters wide, the ceiling lowered to provide that internal feeling of isolation. You are alone here, both the mind and surroundings said the words.
Dark too, light spilling out from a sole lamp embedded on the wall, not the base. It seemed a cubic sheet of solid light, just there. A bed rested on the side, next to an iron bucket. She noted the purpose of the latter. The smell alone revealed that information. This was a true prison. Kabel's confinement.
"How have you been?" She said, alone, having dismissed Lord Wane, Delney, and the rest. The door behind had slid down, barring with a hard gasp of air. Solitary. Though there was every chance an Eiya had been sneaked into the room. In such an event, Wane might find themselves driven from their clan. The steel-strong finding a new territory to rule.
Treason was unwanted, but disrespect must be punished.
Kabel remained silent, staring out into nothing.
Ivory closed in. "How have they been treating you?" She said, "Have you been fed?" How stupid that sounded to her.