12 Miles Below

“Ahhh,” She said, not looking up from her keyboard as her hands flew over the keys. “You must be the Winterscar.”

Captain Sagrius stepped forward. He kept his movements fluid, one step behind the young master. Two of his best flanked directly behind, making a group of three knights to escort the acting Winterscar Prime.

The youth took a few more steps forward and then dropped to one knee as decorum dictated. “Clan lord Drass. You’ve summoned me?”

She nodded, typing away still. Sagrius had heard of her. Well respected among the Logi, though he knew little of what the Logi considered respectable or not.

“Temporary clan lord, until Lord Atius returns for the seat.” She said. “And Indeed I have summoned you. It’s about time we had a talk.” One last keystroke, and she was clearly done with whatever task was at hand. Lady Drass was old, possibly in her seventies, past the age of retirement for a Retainer. Unless perfectly well maintained, the body would become a liability out in the field. A scavenger could continue for some time at her age, but a knight would have long ago passed down his armor. Indeed, the Logi must have different metrics for ability.

Small reading glasses perched by a wrinkled nose, fading blond hair, with hundreds of white hairs sprouting across her hairline. The eyes though, those were sharp and lucid. The captain recognized eyes like those. The sort of gaze that had intensity and made him think she trained her mind the same way Retainers trained their bodies.

She waved away at the two clan knights that stood inside the room, her own personal bodyguards. “You two may go.” The knights in turn gave a salute, turned and left. The strongest sign of trust a clan lord could offer any subordinate, to allow them to retain their own entourage while forgoing her own.

“When I inherited this position, you were an enigma, Winterscar.” She said. “Lord Atius has famously taken great lengths to avoid showing any sign of favoritism, besides a few handful of low-hanging fruit, such as giving budding talent a nudge or stage to showcase what they could do. And then you come into the picture. A writ of full passage, signed by him. Do you know the last time he has done such a thing?”

The young master shook his head. Sagrius didn’t know himself either. Clan history was long and steeped in heroic stories of people, rather than the events that surrounded them. Small details like this would probably be found in a compendium, which wasn’t required reading. Keith may have had a chance at knowing, the boy had often surprised Sagrius with knowledge far outside the ken of a Retainer, but in this instance it seemed both of them were in the dark.

“Never. The answer is never. This is the first time he’s ever written a writ such as this. It only theoretically existed, inherited from clan law of the original composing clans that banded together to form what we have now. You may have not noticed the stir you caused, after all, no one would stand directly to your face and ask questions. Instead the rest of us had to guess at it.” She hummed, fixing the glasses back on the bridge of her nose while the boy seemed to flinch with guilty thoughts. “Many of us assumed you had somehow discovered a weapon of some kind that would turn the tides of the coming war. Imagine their disappointment, when none of your house members revealed anything. Many of them instead outright lied, giving false trails or ideas. They’d clearly prepared ahead of time.” She gave a curt glance to the captain, and the two other that loitered behind like shadows. Sagrius refrained from smiling, keeping a face at all times.

He was proud of his new House. Of the people he worked with. They all rallied together with a single mind, often not needing to even speak to one another to know what needed to be done. The lady Kidra had chosen well.

All his life he’d trained for the chance at becoming a knight. Houseless at the start, a little boy with too many dreams and too many stories he'd read. His excellent skills and hard effort had pushed him past his peers in his youth. He’d earned a spot in House Icewing, a minor house that held only one relic armor. Still, he held that spark of ambition in his heart - to become one of the knights that wielded the relic armor Icewing. Years had gone by, and despite his dedication, others were elevated before him. Skill alone wasn’t enough to distinguish him above those who had been born into the House. He grew frustrated, and disillusioned.

And then Lady Kidra had appeared, and offered him a new path.

“Many of the Houses did a deep dive into your past, trying to discover why someone who they had previously never even heard of, would suddenly rise.” The clan lord said, taking a critical look at the kneeling youth. “To the agrifarmers, and lesser castes, you are considered a hero. Did you know that? They see your background, an outcast who spent more of his time among the streets than in the high and mighty Retainer caste. To see you rise above even the greatest of your kind is the sort of victory the common folk rally around. To your own Caste, you stand as an uneasy reality, that the natural order of things has been turned and with no reason they could think of.”

Indeed, the natural order of things had stagnated. The two siblings had seen the rot from the outside and purged it away. The Lady Kidra with her surgical glare and demand for excellence, and the younger sibling, master Keith, with a gentle helping hand, friendly to all no matter their rank. Such a change from his old House, where the masters hardly even known he existed.

The other Houses would do well to follow the example set by House Winterscar. But it was not Sagrius’s place to bring that up, that fight was someone else’s fate.

The old Logi’s eyes once more glanced up at the three Winterscar knights, taking keen measure. “Your guards, how much are they aware of?”

“Everything.” Keith answered. “I didn’t spare any detail I didn’t know. Figured it’d be better if we’re all on the same level ground. Plus now I get to make all kinds of inside jokes, which is probably the best perk in all this.”

What a day that had been, when master Keith had brought him and the rest of the knights into his sanctuary, to share with them the secrets he’d plumbed out.

At the start, Sagrius had seen Keith as the kind master of House Winterscar, the adolescent soul and heart of the House. While the elder more mature sister was the blade and mind behind it.

That all vanished the moment he’d seen the first duel between sister and brother. Sagrius doubted his entire life’s work right then and there. Here were two juniors, one he was already more than twice as old, and yet they fought on a completely different league than he ever could. Had his skills simply been a delusion? Was this what real skill had been like this whole time? No wonder House Icewing had been such a minor house, if this was the skill level of true knights.

The older servants of House Winterscar had helped him through that loss of confidence. No, they told him, the young master had never been that quick before. Not until he brought back that cursed crusader’s armor. And neither had the sister, but she moved just as quick now, while wielding the same armor the House had sheltered for decades. Something else had been brought back from the underground, and the two siblings were making full use of it.

He hadn’t been in that courtyard when Master Keith had walked in, armored up. But his men spoke in hushed tones of that day. Sagrius could imagine well enough.

Being cornered by enemy knights, knowing there was no winning move possible, attempting simply to delay. Knowing that so long as master Keith could get to his armor, he would come back with his skill and speed and turn the tides of this war. Holding tight to that single ray of hope, fighting off against mad power crazed men, wreathed in indestructible armor.

And then the hope was validated.

Keith had strode into that courtyard and done exactly what every soldier had been praying for. Sagrius hadn’t been there to witness the moment, but he could understand why the soldiers revered the young master with a higher intensity than they had shown even Lady Kidra, the true Prime of House Winterscar.

Things would become very ugly and muddled if Keith ever decided to challenge Kidra for leadership. The house would become utterly split. And while Sagrius didn’t expect that kind of foolish mistake from the people he’d sworn his oaths to, such things were common among the great Houses.

The clan lord motioned the young master to stand back up, and take a seat. Drass walked slowly, not with a limp, but clearly taking her time as she sat down on a seat nearby. Sagrius gave a quick head tilt, ordering the other two guards to flank behind. “I’m not sure you realize the depth of what you’ve done and created, young man.” Drass said, as the captain and his men took defensive positions to guard both. “Take the armor you have modified with the soul fractal as an example. Do you know that they will be forever modified that way? Granting the wielder access to a new school of combat that puts any elite knight at the same level as that of a Deathless. These are no longer regular relic armor. It is inevitable that they will each become legendary armaments, of which I have no doubt entire wars will be fought over for a single one. Long after we’re all dead and buried, those armors will live on. Your swords with crossguards offer counter-options no warlock blades could. And the knightbreakers alone are more a weapon on the level of the Deathless, rather than mere knights in combat. That you fought off a Feather with such a weapon and survived the encounter proves that.”

“You know about To’Aacar?” Keith asked.

The Feather. Sagrius hadn’t ever seen one in person, only heard the legends. The video footage Keith had shared did the stories justice.

Drass just nodded slowly. “Shadowsong is my First Blade. I trust him to bring me information pertinent to my position, and he's done so correctly for now. So then, to the topic at hand, you understand that what you’re dabbling in has a far larger scale than you might consider? A few hundred years from now, our clan name might be nothing more than a forgotten name. But the name of the forgesmith Kieth Winterscar, and the relic armors and weapons he forged, those will be remembered. People will spend their lifetime trying to track down who you were, what you did, and where more of your treasures might lay buried away.”

“You know, this isn’t going to help my ego at all, right?”

Drass laughed, the old elderly version. “No, no it would not. But your ego is something we need to discuss. Given the scope you dally in, why are you wasting your time with the Chosen knights?”

Keith stumbled. “Pardon?” He said, almost sounding like someone caught in a crime.

“I know you’re trying to ferret them out. Perhaps out of pride, since they are trying to claim your life after all. It's only natural to attempt to retaliate yourself. In any other situation, I would have left them to Retainers to handle this, leaving Shadowsong to bring order and handle military affairs. It would have been his decision to let you continue. But, as I have stated before, you are on a different level. I’ve brought you here specifically to give you direct orders. You will cease the search for the Undersider knights and allow Shadowsong to take care of that issue. Instead, I directly order you to train with both your knights and a selection of other knights that have been previously granted the Winterblossom technique. The Chosen knights will be ferreted out, but lesser knights will be dedicated to the task. What I need is a fighting force of knights that can eliminate the incoming raiders. I need that more than I need the chosen knights hunted down and their armors taken.”

Sagrius agreed with the clan lord internally. The Chosen knights were scum that had forfeited their rights as guests, spat on the laws and traditions of hospitality in poor faith. But between hunting them down, or seeing the young master be trained further in combat, there was hardly any debate in his mind.

He felt his armor’s soul stir slightly, moving lethargically within its own soul fractal. It could feel familiar feelings, and that was drawing it out just slightly. The young master had often talked in length about soul fractals, the soul sight and how each person seemed to have their own variations of it. Sagrius had felt nothing unique just yet, but there was something he’d been doing that hadn’t been spoken of often.

His armor. It spoke to him in the same monotone, only ever giving reports. When he’d first donned the relic, he’d assumed it to be like a pseudo smart AI. Golden tech era.

Then he’d touched the soul fractal and his world had expanded. Deep within the chest of his armor, the true soul of the armor rested. He reached a probing hand out for it, and felt the connection. An old and ancient soul, moving like a river of ice. It neither welcomed him, nor chased him off. It was a vast mountain, and what would the mountain care for any deer that scurried upon its back? But lately, it had begun to recognize him more and more. The old spirit had no means of speaking, not by words, but it could by feelings.

The first time Sagrius had touched on this soul was the first time he’d see what true loyalty was. The armor was utterly dedicated to the effort of protecting him. And only him. It did not care who he was, what he had done, or even if he was worthy of protection. It only cared to protect, and that desire ran so deep Sagrius could not possibly see or understand the depth of it.

But he wanted to. The old soul may be the mountain, and he might be the deer, but the entire mountain had moved to shape itself around, just to offer the right amount of shade.

He was a knight now. His entire life had been validated, all his struggles had led him to this moment, where he stood among legends and myth. Now that he had acquired that terrible power, it needed a purpose. He needed a new goal.

Power hadn’t been the only thing he’d found at the summit of his life. Standing there, slightly hunched over, with a carefree grin, had been master Keith. The small urchin. And now, the forgemaster who’d crafted creations that even the Clan Lord had immediately understood would outlive all of them.

The gods had put Sagrius here on this path for a reason. This boy would change the world. Sagrius could feel it in his bones. All the knights of House Winterscar could. But the boy needed to be protected. This is why the gods had granted him his skills and talents. Strength without purpose was useless. His journey to become a knight was only the starting point of his true mission.

The armor stirred again, feeling a kindred spirit nearby. An echo of what drove it. Sagrius reached out to the old soul, absentmindedly, almost in meditation while he remained alert for danger, senses probing out.

He’d been doing that more and more often as of late whenever he practiced the Winterblossom technique, finding the ancient spirit fascinating. Calming too. Like a deep lukewarm bath, the depth of that single minded loyalty something to be admired.

The connection took, and held, the armor glancing over his own soul with slow movements. It had never once cared who the owner had been, it’s only purpose had been to protect the owner. But today, it had felt a pang of something too familiar for it to look away.

The armor blinked. And then it let go, curiosity sated, receding back into the soul fractal, a slow lumbering giant.

Light fading feelings of approval trailing behind it.

He took off his helmet, breathing the semi-warmed air. Water was nearby and the captain drank greedily from it. Three days of diligent training. Three entire days, spent in the hidden sanctum of House Winterscar.

Now given the single minded purpose to train using the Winterblossom technique, ideas and inspirations he and his men had slowly been considering were laid bare, and then optimized by the armors. He and the Winterscar knights had been joined by other elites from the different Houses. Men and women Sagrius knew by name, from sheer reputation. People who he’d never have once thought to ever share the same room with. Now they trained with him side by side, pooling their vast experience in combat.

The result had been exceptional.

The new school of combat had been named Rakurai, the lightning style. Apt name given the speed of each technique within the small selection of movements for the first generation. Nine perfect movements that countered and defeated all of the surface styles, in every situation. Only usable by knights wielding the winterblossom.

The process had started backwards. They needed a counterset against all the known surface styles, which the Raiders would approach with.

Three known schools of combat. So three countersets were created. Each counterset needed multiple forms to handle different situations. Three forms were deemed enough. Thus nine forms in total to handle every school.

The first form in each counterset was the basic one, usable in all situations with any manner of weapon - but it required the most movements and killed the slowest. The second form in each counterset was optimized for a longsword wielder. Far quicker than the first form’s more basic methods, and could be executed from a neutral stance, still capable of adapting to any motion from the enemy.

The last form was a counter-attack. Hyperspecialized, it killed the fastest and was the most deadly of all three forms. By the half second mark, the attack became utterly unblockable and death was all but assured. But it required more than just a simple longsword. The third form required two longswords forged with Keith’s crossguards.

More forms would be created eventually, but for now, the knights had all agreed three motions for each surface school was enough to begin with.

Sagrius had been proud to have invented two of the current nine forms that comprised the current iteration of the Rakurai style. The most challenging one had been the basic first form capable of dealing with the water style opponent. The sheer number of permutations and movements capable of that opponent truly highlighted how fine-tuned the combat arts had been taken to. In comparison, their lightning style was far more crude and direct. A simple set of motions that should never have been able to work, if speed was still a factor.

When the fight against the Raiders came, Sagrius could imagine the regular rank and file approach. The true threat to the civilians and the clan itself. Far too many for knights like him to hunt down and fully exterminate. No, they had to be cowed into surrender.

And there would be no better tool than to have those enemy soldiers watch their fearsome knights get butchered in seconds, by a secret technique the world had never seen before.

As the days passed and the technique was practiced and perfected, the captain’s spirits soared up. The knights could feel victory in the air. But the young master’s own thoughts grew distant. Troubled.

The Lady Kidra had been expected to return within these days. And each day, Keith contacted the Logi tower, asking for whereabouts. Each time, the answer had been unknown.

Something had happened underground. And so Sagrius trained harder than he ever had before in his life. He knew in his bones, he would need this new school of combat. Every ounce of experience training with it. The Winterscar knights could all feel it.

Soon, the young master would set out for his sister. The boy said nothing of it, made no mention other than to follow the orders of the clan lord. But Sagrius knew this was inevitable. And the Chosen knights would follow behind, without a doubt. Like dogs chasing down blood.

At one point, Captain Sagrius would have considered himself a loyal man to the clan above all. The thought of abandoning the clan at the time of a raider invasion would have been the deepest heresy, especially with relics. But lately his senses of loyalty had been displaced. Refocused. The clan would survive. The Winterscar knights were not the only ones with knowledge of the Rakurai techniques. The clan had been given blades, and the knightbreakers, along with the Shadowsong Prime himself to lead them into battle. The boy needed to be protected more.

The armor’s spirit stirred once more as he drank his water and set it aside. It had never tried to protect more than one person. To the armor, purpose was singular. Loyalty diluted was no loyalty at all. Sagrius felt his spirit slowly align with that, and ever so slightly, he peered deeper into the depth of that armor’s soul. Despite all his progress, that depth of purpose always seemed endless. His mind withdrew, back into the material world.

He watched the young master's spar with the elites. Skills had increased tremendously now that only his intellect was required when fighting. If the boy became too agitated about his sister’s disappearance, there wasn’t telling what he could do on impulse. Perhaps he would wait until the raiders had been dealt with. Or perhaps he would send him and his knights out on a mission. Both would be the more rational choice.

But most likely, Keith would attempt to sneak out himself, to go help his sister. It wasn’t the captain’s place to question the decision. To protect someone wasn’t to hold them prisoner. The armor let him do and go wherever he pleased after all, even if he walked into his own doom. Destiny was rarely forgiving.

He closed the water bottle, stood up, and went back into the training field.

When the boy inevitably made the attempt, Captain Sagrius would make sure his knights would be there with him.

Packed and ready to follow.

Next chapter - Et tu, Brute? (T)

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