Nico stood silently before the gate. Completely crafted from black marble, with chiseled designs and two imposing, iron rings that served as handles, the twins doors glared down at him. They led to the deep, underground dungeon of the Bright Castle. It sat directly beneath the grand throne room. There was even a dark path beside the dais that led to it. However, this entrance was tucked away within the marked areas of the Host, and only the highest-ranking members could enter.
Suddenly, Nico felt underdressed for the occasion.
He summoned the armored portion of the [Silver Wraith], and a shimmer of essence wrapped around his sleek figure. When the veil parted, a full suit of bleak steel was fastened tightly to his frame, an underlayer of dark chainmail lined like a second skin hidden beneath. Leather straps fastened the cuirass, vambraces, and pauldrons on tightly, with intricate patterns engraved into the exposed metal. On his lower half, two greaves and cuisses protected his shins and thighs, and a sleeveless tabard extended from under his faulds.
The armor was wound so thoroughly around him that it felt more like a part of him than anything external. If Nico wasn't a Sleeper with two Soul Cores, it might've been a tad bit heavy as well. Thankfully, he was.
Looking down at his gauntlets, he made sure the [Song of Steel] was still in its rightful place.
'Nice. It'd be difficult to find a way to wear the charm if I had to dismiss sections of my armor...'
Turning his attention to the gate, Nico stared indifferently, then grasped one of the handles and pounded them against the stone three times.
The doors slid open without a single sound, and before he could take a step into the dim light of the dungeon hall, the presence of Gunlaug's Transcendent Echo slammed into him. It was a slithering, disgusting aura that prickled the skin beneath his armor. Due to the lineage he bore, it was even more startling than normal, and its presence engraved much deeper within his mind.
Flexing his fingers, the lieutenant began down the hall.
He passed an uncountable number of cells with thick iron bars while navigating his way. Dark gray stone slabs much more befitting of the Dark City formed the walls and curved into an arch to make the ceiling, and the flickering light of distant torches barely illuminated the vast majority of the way forward.
'The Bright Lord. Golden Serpent. Gunlaug. I wonder where he's from. Probably the House of Night.'
For Nico, it was easy to forget how everyone here had once arrived from the Awakened Academy. Most hadn't even left more than five years ago, and practically none a decade. The longest person he knew who had survived here was Seishan. Everyone was so young. Gunlaug himself had been here for around eight years at most. The Nightmare Spell didn't send warriors the Forgotten Shore, it sent children — children that were children no longer from the moment they set foot within this palace of human sin, and even before that from the moment they conquered their First Trial.
There was no better, crueler, or more lethal crucible in all the Dream Realm.
He didn't know whether to cherish or despise it himself. He had done well here, after all. The Bright Lord probably had the same thoughts. He was a god among men on the Forgotten Shore. His rule was unquestionable, power unfathomable, and nothing and no one could stop him. All without having a power Aspect to boost him along.
But, surely, he had to have yearned to be free. To be away from all the horror and in the arms of someone who had loved him before it all. To be home.
'If only home didn't seem so unreachable... That's what he's thinking. I'm sure of it.'
It was both Nico's bane and blessing that he could sense emotions, at times. Most people were easy to read and placed their emotions on their sleeves. Others were harder. More stoic. They never lasted long against him, though, since they tended to release all their emotions in their mind instead, and he could feel through that disguise with his Attribute and Flaw. Then there were those that wore masks and fooled even themselves. Such was Gunlaug. He played the proprietor of justice — the infallible lord that served his people dutifully. His definition of that was certainly skewed.
There was always simmering emotions as well, but between the brief time Nico spent with him and the power of his Transcendent Echo, he couldn't peer deeply into him.
Eventually the cells bled to small chambers that used to be inhabited by officers of the Bright Castle before they all inexplicably died some endless eons ago. Quiet thoughts whispered in Nico's head as he walked, only to still when an open door was revealed in the distance. Soft, orange light spilled out from it. He walked towards it and soon found himself crossing the threshold into a large, opulent room.
It was an abandoned war room. A giant map of the entire region was splayed across the back wall, with pins and marking long forgotten on its surface. A huge, circular table carved from black wood rose from the ground at the center, with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling above it. Weathered stone lined the wall alongside tanned hides, beast skulls, and desks with scattered, illegible parchments and books.
And at the head of the table, lounging in a beautiful wooden chair with his hands on its rests, was Gunlaug.
Nico bowed deeply. His voice spoke clear, reverent:
"My lord."
The golden man leaned forward in his seat; all the power of his clear, polished mask directed only at him as a ripple flowed outward from its center in a small, precise wave.
Resisting the urge to look away, he met his gaze. Or, well, his mask.
Gunlaug's deep, serpentine voice flowed from everywhere within the room, amused.
"Ah, one of my most precious wards! Welcome, welcome! Take a seat. Let us discuss."
Nodding briefly, Nico politely lowered himself into the closest seat directly opposite of Gunlaug. He had already taken a cursory look around and noticed that there were none of the other lieutenants here. Nobody except his lordship. He didn't know whether that was a good or bad development.
The Bright Lord himself seemed to be mulling over something. He had brought one of his hands up and was now gently resting his chin on it. His armor seemed to shimmer in the soft candlelight of the chandelier above, and he looked like a genuine, graceful king on his makeshift throne.
Of course, what kind of honorable king hides behind an impenetrable armor to protect himself from his subjects.
He straightened himself and said:
"May I ask what, my lord, you have called upon me for?"
The Bright Lord titled his head up slightly, then chuckled. "I have called upon you because a promotion is in order! Might you be able to guess as to why?"
Nico reflected on his meager actions since being knighted as one of Gunlaug's lieutenants. Nothing much stood out. He hadn't led people, made a shocking change, or killed unstoppable foes. His title was more of a formality than anything based simply upon how versatile and strong his Aspect seemed to others around him.
'If anything, I deserve a demotion.'
Instead, he replied after a short pause:
"...No, I cannot."
The Bright Lord's shoulders drooped.
"Well then, Nico, it has come under my attention and understanding that you have been working as a handyman of sorts — an assistant to the other lieutenants and their various tasks. As a benevolent lord, this will not do for a man of your station."
The Bright Lord's voice pulsed with sincerity.
"I have pondered, my ward, where would be your rightful place. Such talents must not go to waste! No, not at all." The Bright Lord paused and seemed to muse to himself. "For a time, I was quite troubled. Such strength! Such ability! To tie you down without deep consideration would be foolish...
Thus, I have finally found a place where your diverse talents will most benefit the Host and enforce our sacred laws."
Nico listened to Gunlaug's words half-heartedly, though unease occasionally rippled through him. Apparently, the Bright Lord was... going to make him a leader, of sorts? He was going to create a group for him to oversee, maybe?
He simply didn't know, so he waited for him to continue, then asked when he didn't:
"Where would that be, my lord?"
A faint ripple spread through the polished gold of the Bright Lord's mask. A soft, charming voice reached his ears from all directions.
"Overseeing the misbegotten souls of the outer settlement."
Luckily, Nico's face remained perfectly still, but his hand still twitched beneath the table. It seemed the Host had finally grown wary of him. They were going to banish him off to oversee the less fortunate. Disguise it as an honorable position, of course.
This wasn't what he had expected.
'How... irritable.'
The Bright Lord placed both of his hands on their rests once more, this time looking regal as he did so. His face shifted slightly so that Nico caught his reflection in that horrible mask of his. His stomach churned.
"You have lived among them for a time, my ward. You have risen above them — carried a Flaw none could with you. Let them see the future of the Host in your eyes. If one could guide them, it would be you."
His gaze tightened at the Bright Lord's words. His Flaw... it was no secret. Not anymore. He had mistakenly loosed the secret in a moment of... intolerance.
"Now, what say you, my precious ward? Will you accept the position I have granted you?"
Nico bowed his head, responding without hesitation:
"It would be my honor."
Gunlaug's menacing armor seemed to flow around him as he straightened, catching and reflecting light like a whirlpool, emotions flared with sinister, dark glee.
Though his head remained prostrated before the Bright Lord, his eyes closed with solemn duty, the image of two glowing strings of runes appeared before Nico with a final thought.
Flaw: [Cold Flame].
Flaw Description: [You are unfeeling, and you feel everything.]