The Zombie Knight

It was a relief to learn that the Rainlords would be returning soon. And a surprise, as well. From what Hector had previously understood of the situation over there, the Rainlords still needed to go to the aid of the RPMP in the defense of the city of Ridgemark, but apparently, they were quite confident that the battle would cause little delay now that they had recovered their lost brethren.

Graves, however, paused for quite a while before answering. “...Trade secret, I’m afraid. That’s not the type of information I’d like spread around.”

Zeff’s eye twitched. More secrets, eh? He wasn’t exactly surprised, but something in the back of his mind was bothering him. Maybe he could still push. “That’s fine. No specifics, then. Just tell me when you noticed we were here.” Half of those words didn’t even feel like his own. Were they moreso Axiolis’? What was this disquieted feeling in his gut?

“Even that would be giving away too much, I think,” said Graves.

“Oh, come now,” said Zeff. “Surely not.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Zeff’s jaw tensed.

And he realized what was bothering him so much, perhaps with Axiolis’ help.

Because the reaper could recall a very clear timeline of events.

When the Triplets first arrived, they’d all been alone and deeply concealed. In fact, they’d been chosen for their mission specifically because of how unknown they were to the outside world. So it was virtually inconceivable that the Vangaurd could’ve sniffed them out, unless the Triplets themselves had let it slip.

But if that had been the case, then there would’ve been no “trade secrets” for Graves to be implying were at play here. No reason to hide anything.

Then the Triplets went to Miro and learned of the situation there, which prompted the Rainlords to send a few reinforcements, who were admittedly more recognizable than the Triplets but still trying to remain stealthy. Apart from one sketchy encounter with the RPMP, that team made no contact with any of the other forces in Ridgemark at the time--certainly not the Vanguard.

Then the skirmishing at Miro took place and they wrested the town from Abolish’s control. And since they hadn’t been able to achieve a decisive victory over Thaddeus Croll of Abolish, the team had been forced on the defensive in order to protect the Miroan civilians that they’d just rescued.

And it was during that time when the Blackburn Triplets had been redeployed elsewhere. Since they were not necessary for the defense of Miro, they were tasked with gathering information again.

Which was when Raul Blackburn had discovered the all-important intel that their captive kin were to be given away by the Vanguard.

So for any of this to make sense, Graves had to have learned of their presence before then, right? If it was the marshal’s intention all along that the Rainlords would discover the scheme and go rescue their kin, then he had to have known they were in the country before Raul discovered that intel.

And yet...

What a strange man this was. The way he talked. The way he navigated around subjects instead of providing straight answers. And yet the way he was also quite warm. Not in a false manner, either. Or at least, Zeff didn’t think so.

All at once, Zeff felt as though this man was some mad mixture of one of their greatest possible allies with an entity that they needed to be ever wary of, at all costs.

But perhaps it was too soon to be making such broad judgments.

Whatever the case, he wanted more information.

“So are you truly claiming to not be this ‘Archangel’ that Darktide thinks you are?” said Zeff. “Even if I don’t bring up your name in the process, I will most definitely be asking him about that later, so you might as well tell me the truth.”

Graves broke for a sigh, then shook his head again. “Fine. But don’t go spreading this information around. And if you decide not to listen to me, then don’t say I didn’t warn you against it, either.”

Zeff waited.

“Yes, I was once known as Archangel.” He gave a mild shrug. “Bit of an overly grandiose name, I always thought, which I suppose is part of the reason I didn’t mind giving it up. But yes, Melchor did meet me on a couple of occasions, when he was a child. When I became Graves, I left that name, and others, behind. For the safety of many innocent lives, you understand, not just you Rainlords.”

“I see. So you are not a Rainlord yourself, then?”

“No,” said the man with a laugh. “But knowing how deeply you lot care for one another, it is flattering that you were even humoring the idea.”

“It would have explained why you are helping us so much.”

“I am also helping myself, you know. Vanderberk has been my target for decades. Finally being able to put him down is more reward than all the treasure in the world.”

“Perhaps, but there were other ways you might have gone about it. Ones that would’ve involved making sure that your Rainlord prisoners remained entirely out of our reach.”

Graves bobbed his head to the side but said nothing.

“How did you learn of our presence here in Vantalay, by the way?” Had those bumbling Triplets let it slip when they first arrived, Zeff wondered? If so, then he supposed their incompetence was a good thing, in retrospect.

For a time, the field marshal merely met his gaze evenly, not saying anything. Then a smile crossed his lips as his eyes eased briefly shut, and he shook his head. “Rainlords...”

Zeff waited for elaboration.

“If nothing else, I suppose I can be relieved that the unshakable pride of your clan remains intact. Whether it’s warranted or not has always been the real question, though.”

Zeff decided to push. “You did know Agam, didn’t you?”

Graves seemed to be weighing him anew. “...I did, yes. He and little Dino Blackburn were both good friends of mine. More than good, in fact. We found ourselves on a... quest, of sorts, once upon a time. An adventure that I shall never forget for as long as I live.”

Hmm. “That sounds like quite the tale.”

“Indeed.”

“And yet I’ve never heard it before,” said Zeff. “A grand adventure between the three of you would have been passed down among my kin for generations, I should think.”

“Well, there was a reason for that, too. But perhaps enough time has passed that I can safely tell you of it. And with both of them gone, their heroism deserves to be remembered.” He broke for a curt laugh. “Tell me something. Is that gallery of grand paintings at Red Lake Castle still standing?”

“...I hope so,” said Zeff, thinking back to his own memories of that place. Of Octavia Redwater showing it to him for the first time. “But I do not know.”

Graves’ mirth diminished somewhat. “Well, in my estimation, this would be a tale worthy of a painting or two.”

Part of Zeff’s mind was staying on Octavia, though. Her reaper, Wen, should’ve been around here somewhere. All of his brethren were still strewn about the sundered battleground, unconscious. Of course, they were all undead or reapers, so they would be fine, but the impulse to begin taking them all back to their encampment was quite strong.

Unfortunately, the opportunity to speak so candidly with a field marshal was too rare to pass up.

Just a little longer, Zeff thought.

“You’ve been to Red Lake before, then,” said Zeff.

“Oh yes. And I should like to visit again, once you recover it for your people.”

Zeff blinked at the sudden optimism. “I’m sure that could be arranged. And you are right to assume that we will be able to recover it, but I am surprised to hear you having such faith in us.”

“Heh.”

Most notably, however, was what Agam had done in his role as the eldest of all his siblings. Each time, when a brother or sister was born, Agam did something that bordered on criminal or even psychotic, but the explanations that he provided for his actions afterwards always seemed to be too strange for either of those two labels to entirely stick.

For Zeff’s great grandfather, the act had been kidnapping. One night, Agam stole the boy away while everyone else was asleep. One of the other reapers, Ozolos, noticed the kidnapping quickly but decided not to alert anyone, for that reaper had himself been quite the notorious oddball--and indeed, eventually became the one who resurrected Agam at the age of fourteen.

According to what Ozolos claimed to have witnessed that night, Agam had taken the newborn child out into a particularly intense rainstorm in order to “baptize him in the lifeblood of a lhugleoth so that his line will be forever strengthened.”

Which was quite the incredible justification by an eleven-year-old boy, Axiolis had always thought.

Agam, of course, had been punished severely and never treated the same way again when children were present, except perhaps by Ozolos.

And as Agam grew older, the stories about him only continued to grow stranger.

Here and now, however, in the company of this marshal, Zeff found himself wanting to ask this person about him.

Especially because... these newly unlocked memories from Axiolis regarding Sparrows... were adding something to the mix. Something that neither of them could quite detect, as of yet. It made little sense, because those memories seemed to be from a time long before Agam had even been born, and yet...

There was a similar feeling embedded therein. Somewhere.

“...Did you once know a man named Agam Elroy?” said Zeff, still with two voices.

“You ignore my questions and ask that instead?” said Graves, finally turning to look at him again. “Just how much of an inconsiderate asshole are you, Water Dragon? Did you hear nothing I said?”

“Oh, I heard. I heard very well, in fact. But did you? It seems to me that you have not been listening to yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘Grip the torch with both hands.’ That’s what you said. And that’s what you should do, too.”

Graves made no response.

“We do not need your protection,” said Zeff. “We are the Rainlords of Sair. The blood of the Armans. If you know even one thing of my kin, then you should know that.”

He’d suddenly been able to look through and even almost experience the reaper’s own memories about House Elroy, going back all the way to when they were still the Arman people.

Not to mention, it gave him a much clearer picture of what his more recent family had truly been like, too. His father. His mother. Uncles and cousins. It made him feel so much closer to them than he had even when they were still alive.

The only problem with it had been that it was unsustainable for long periods of time. The merge couldn’t last long enough for Zeff to indulge in those memories nearly as much as he would have liked. It was much improved now, of course, but even all these years later, he could still occasionally discover something new about his ancestors from Axiolis’ memories.

And one ancestor had become of particular interest to him, as of late. He’d been spending a fair bit of down time in pan-forma with Axiolis, trying to go through all that the reaper could remember of the man.

Agam Elroy.

Zeff had gotten a feeling, almost inexplicable in nature, that there was something to be discovered there, something that perhaps even Axiolis himself did not yet realize or fully recall.

Maybe it was because Sanko, the Gargoyle of Korgum, had mentioned his name just prior to their fight with her at Rheinhal. Maybe it was because Axiolis’ memories regarding the man were so peculiar when compared to most of his other ancestors. Maybe it was something else entirely.

But here and now, in this Vanguardian marshal’s presence, in this likely Kingsparrow’s presence, Zeff’s mind was returning to Agam for some reason.

Agam had been an uncle of Zeff’s grandfather. Zeff had never met him, but Axiolis certainly had. The reaper had seen his entire life, from the moment of his birth, to the time when he was found dead in his great mansion that sat upon the waves of Lake Carria.

Even from a young age, Agam had shown signs of possessing an exceptionally eccentric mind--to the point that ‘eccentric’ perhaps no longer adequately described him, even.

His beleaguered parents once returned from a trip to find that all of the family’s staff had quit and left the boy alone, because young Agam had filled their ancestral home with so many wild animals that a window could not be opened without one escaping.

Zeff wanted to choose his next words carefully. “I already told you that I would keep your secrets. If you are lying for our sake, out of some sense or hope that it might protect us from your foes, there is no need. Especially when I am beginning to get the impression that the truth would be of much greater comfort.”

“...What exactly are you implying, Water Dragon?”

Should he just come right out and say it? Hmm. Maybe so. “...Are you a Rainlord?” asked Zeff.

Graves made no response.

“It is either that,” Zeff went on, “or you were a dear friend of the Blackburns, as Darktide seems to believe.” In his head, he kept searching for some recognition of the name Archangel in Axiolis’ memories. It felt like something was there, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

“Even if I were related to you, why would I admit it?” said Graves. “What good would that do, other than perhaps imperil your kin still further? You have worked within the Vanguard for many years yourself. You know our policies. Our ideas. You know the importance that we marshals must place upon our identities. Yet you ask me these questions as if you were plainly ignorant of such things.”

It was certainly true that the marshals all took the secrets of their family history quite seriously, in large part because they knew that many within Abolish liked to make a sport of hunting down and killing any identifiable relatives or loved ones they might still have, regardless of how distant the relation might seem. And even among the marshals, Graves had always been known as the most mysterious, so it would come as no surprise to Zeff if this man took such secrets more seriously than anyone else he’d ever met.

But he still couldn’t help wanting to know.

The Rainlords had lost so many of their kin over the years. And so many close friends, too, who might as well have been kin. The idea that one of them might have survived and been alive all this time... well, that was something that would’ve surely made his ancestors smile.

His ancestors. Yes.

He blinked.

Some years ago, back when he’d finally achieved his first hyper-state with Axiolis, it had been arguably the greatest day of his life. After having so much of his family taken from him when he was only fifteen years old, that moment of merging minds with his family’s ancestral reaper had been... unparalleled in its importance.

“You seem shockingly well-informed about her, considering how new to the Vanguard she still is.” It hadn’t escaped Zeff’s memory that Parson Miles once claimed that Gema was working for him. Every fiber of his being was now hoping that Graves here might contradict that and confirm that the bastard had been lying. “Has she been working under you directly?”

“Ah, no,” said Graves. “I did meet the girl a couple of times, but I do not think she realized who I was.”

“Hmm. Was that because you were in disguise?”

Graves just bobbed his head to the side rather than answering the question.

And something else occurred to Zeff. Their entire reason for deciding to trust this mysterious man in the first place was because he seemed to have some kind of personal connection with Bernardino Blackburn.

And moreover, Melchor had called him ‘Archangel.’

But even according to Axiolis’ knowledge, that was not a moniker associated with Graves. No, instead, the only moniker Ax knew of for Field Marshal Graves was the Pale Hawk.

And given everything that they had witnessed here today, both names seemed fairly apt in their own way.

“...What is your association with us?” said Zeff. “You knew Bernardino, obviously, but how does Darktide know you?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“He called you Archangel.”

“Yes, that was odd. I think he must have mistook me for someone else.”

Zeff observed the man’s expression carefully. It didn’t look dismissive or callous, but then again, would such emotions even come through? If this guy really was a Sparrow, then the human image in front of him right now would’ve been an illusion. Graves could make its emotions look completely different to however he was actually feeling.

Or could he? Perhaps their projections didn’t work that way.

Whatever the case, Zeff was suddenly quite suspicious. “...I don’t believe you.”

“That is your prerogative,” said Graves. And he turned away. “In any event, things should be considerably easier to deal with here in Vantalay now. I’m sure the RPMP will still--”

“So if I go asking around about someone named Archangel in connection with one Field Marshal Graves, I won’t discover anything interesting?” said Zeff.

“...As I said before, it would be a problem if you spoke to anyone of me. That context would not matter.” The man still did not look back at him.

“What did you do to them?” said Zeff.

One of Graves’ eyebrows twitched. “...Do you truly not know?”

Zeff wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Water Dragon,” said Graves, raising his chin a little. “You know a thing or two about me, don’t you?”

Zeff felt his skin suddenly bristling. A cold shiver down the length of his body.

He ignored it.

“What I know,” said Zeff slowly, “is that you’ve aided my kin here today. You have had the opportunity, multiple times now, to hurt us, and yet you have not. In fact, it seems to me that you have gone out of your way to protect us as best you can, despite quite difficult circumstances.”

Graves was quiet.

“You asked me to keep your secrets for you,” said Zeff. “I’ll do so gladly.”

A few more beats passed, and then a soft smile arrived on the other man’s face, twisting up his mustache. “...It would appear you have some secrets of your own.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“Heh. By the way, how was it that you came to learn that your kin were being held in Logden?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if a little bird might have passed it along.”

A little bird? That seemed almost too on the nose, Zeff thought. Unless... was he not talking about another Sparrow here? “That would’ve been nice,” he said. “I’m afraid it was pure chance, though. What little bird might you be talking about?”

“You know the one, surely.”

“I genuinely do not. And you saying that is only making me more curious.”

“Truly? Why, your daughter, of course. Gema Elroy.”

Zeff blinked. More than once. He fumbled for his next question. “You... ah... do you know where she is?”

Graves returned a quizzical look. “Do you not?”

“No, she... we... we had a falling out, and she’s been... ah...”

“...I see.” The man scratched his chin. “Well, I could put her in contact with you, if you like. Whatever transpired between you, I’m sure she would want to know that you are okay after everything that has happened.”

Zeff was taken aback. “Yes, please! I would be eternally grateful!”

Graves seemed almost as surprised, himself. “Alright, well, uh, don’t be too pleased with me just yet. It will take some time, what with everything going on, right now. Plus, she is... currently in the middle of something and will remain indisposed for quite a while yet.”

Graves paused for a smirk. “Would you be impressed if I said yes?”

Zeff did not answer. He merely returned his usual glare, though he couldn’t quite keep the confusion out of it entirely.

Graves shook his head and sighed. “Gohvis is certainly not dead. Took me a minute to clock what he’d done, but that wasn’t actually him. It was just a very powerful psychic projection. I suspect he has deployed one to each of the different war fronts in order to aid his allies... which would be absolutely disastrous for us, if I’m right.”

A psychic projection? Ah. Zeff supposed a Sparrow would know all about that type of thing. He wasn’t yet sure that he wanted to say as much aloud, though. Letting on that he knew didn’t seem particularly beneficial, especially with Axiolis' new memories now stewing around in his mind, creating even more uncertainty about how trustworthy this marshal before him truly was.

He did have something in need of clarification, though. “And Vanderberk?” said Zeff. “Is he dead?”

A strained expression crossed the other man’s face. “I’m... actually not sure about that. I think I got him, but... he had some very strange powers at his disposal. Even more strange than I’d heard--and I’d heard some pretty crazy things.” He scratched his forehead, blinking. “I’m just glad it was me who ended up facing him and not one of the others. I don’t know if any of them would’ve had as favorable of a matchup as I did.”

Hmm. “What, exactly, did you do to him?”

Graves paused again and leveled a stare at Zeff. “Curious, are you? That’s only natural. Unfortunately, I cannot explain. And furthermore, I would ask that you not speak of me to anyone. Secrecy has proved to be one of my greatest allies over the years. Spreading word of my abilities, even among those you trust, could eventually endanger not just me but everyone whom I might otherwise be able to protect. Meaning many innocent lives. You understand?”

Rather than answering immediatley, Zeff looked over the dusted battlefield another time, and his gaze went to his many unconscious kin strewn about. Only now was it occurring to him how odd it was that he, alone, should still be conscious. Whatever Graves had done to them hadn’t worked on him and Axiolis.

“Not to worry,” said Graves. “They are all unhurt.”

It came from a time when the world had been a very different place.

On the brink of absolute conquest.

By the dreaded Kingsparrows. The enemies of all humanity. A force so terrible that it united even the Vanguard and Abolish against it for nearly a century.

And Axiolis furthermore realized that this was not one memory. It was many. A whole lifetimes’s worth, in fact.

It all came back to him in a rush. An overwhelming wave of recollection. Too much to process now, certainly.

And difficult though it was, Zeff did his best to suppress it. They could think through it all later. In this moment, his full attention needed to remain on the field of battle.

On the apparent demise of not only Vanderberk, but also the Monster of the East, too.

Zeff couldn’t believe his eyes.

Gohvis could not break free of his cage. It took a while longer, but just as with Vanderberk, the lines of light graduated to a stage of slowly smothering him, until eventually, they enveloped him entirely.

And then he, too, disappeared. Vanished behind luminous particles.

The Water Dragon of Sair was dumbstruck.

He kept expecting one or both of them to suddenly reappear, to attack from some unseen angle at the edge of his vision.

But that didn’t happen.

Graves, however, was still there.

But the land all around him had changed.

The mass of ardor-filled lava? Even the few trees and rocks that had managed to avoid being struck down or set alight?

In their places, only mounds of ash remained.

Even parts of the prison had been turned to dust, and Zeff was briefly frantic with the worry that some of his kin might have gotten caught up in whatever Graves had done, but he was soon relieved when none appeared to be missing. In fact, all the ash appeared to be distinctly around them, as if they had been deliberately avoided.

And the ash itself was something else. Something disturbingly strange. Axiolis could sense that about it, at least. It felt like a hole in the universe. No soul power or ardor to speak of, not even in trace amounts.

Before he could continue processing the unbelievable scene around him, Graves approached him, still in his seemingly human form while the ash made no noise under his boots.

“Be not alarmed,” said the marshal. “The area is now safe.”

Zeff had to struggle for his first question. “Did you... really kill them both?”

That was beyond strange. Even Axiolis could not recall an instance of a servant being able to manipulate the flow of ardor in such a way. To be channeling it through themselves with so much intensity? And have it be blending with or even amplifying their own soul power?

This was unprece--

No.

Axiolis did remember now. In the ancient past, there indeed was a certain type of person who could do such a thing.

Person... or creature, perhaps.

It was a vague memory. Blurry and distorted. Which was itself an incredibly odd thing. Reaper memories were never like that, normally. Only very recently had it even resurfaced into his mind at all, as though it had been suppressed for eons before.

And Axiolis had not thought that was a coincidence. Given how muddy and uncertain the matter was in his mind, he’d been reluctant to broach the subject at all, even with Zeff. But he’d first noticed it after learning about the existence of Sparrows.

Or re-learning about them, perhaps.

The reaper had an uneasy feeling that he’d encountered such creatures before--and not in an amicable context.

And now, here, witnessing what Graves was doing, Axiolis’ memories were giving him that same uneasy feeling again. Only much stronger, this time.

Enough so that Zeff could feel Axiolis wanting to intervene. In favor of Gohvis. A dreaded, irrational impulse to aid Emiliana’s kidnapper, of all people.

But Zeff kept them steady. He had to. He’d never felt this kind of fear from Axiolis before. Even the reaper didn’t seem to know the full source of it.

The struggle before them continued for an uncomfortably long time. The cages kept squeezing Gohvis and Vanderberk, digging slowly deeper into their flesh. Zeff couldn’t understand what exactly was happening here. It seemed to him that Vanderberk, at least, should have been toast long ago, what with him already being on the verge of death, but maybe it wasn’t the simple.

Then the lines of Vanderberk’s cage began to glow more prominently than that of Gohvis.

And the light spread.

The soul power and ardor spread.

Across Vanderberk’s flesh.

Into Vanderberk’s flesh.

Until Vanderberk himself was glowing as bright as the cage.

And then, suddenly, Vanderberk just... popped.

Out of existence.

Gone. Leaving only fleeting specks of light and soul power behind.

And that disquieted feeling in Axiolis’ mind grew stronger than ever before. The ancient memory that it was tied to grew abruptly clearer.

Gohvis rocketed up the pillar, running up the ninety-degree angle as if gravity were of no consequence to him, even while being battered by a storm of brilliant crystals along the way.

The other pillars grew out and spidered together, creating an interconnected network--an enormous dome over the whole area, but also one that bridged each of the pillars. And then Vanderberk’s cage shot along one of the bridges toward a different pillar, then to another pillar, then still another, moving so rapidly that Axiolis’ senses quickly lost track of it.

The Monster of the East did not, however, and it was somehow easier to follow his movements amid all the sensory chaos, perhaps because his soul was so profoundly different to everything else that surrounded him. Like a pitch black marble in a storming sea of pure light--one that seemed entirely unimpeded by the ferocious waves.

Gohvis zigged and zagged throughout the great dome, apparently undeterred by any of the visual noise or confusing stimuli popping all around him. He didn’t even seem to be following the pillars at times, just zooming through open air on pure momentum, instead.

Zeff wanted to help, to contribute to this clash some way, but he couldn’t even begin to imagine how he might do so.

Then another surge of light arrived, this time with real force behind it--enough to throw Zeff off his feet and send him sliding across crumbling rock. He didn’t stop until he hit the wall of the prison, which was itself already half gone.

He needed a moment to regather his wits, and by the time he did, the situation had greatly changed.

Gohvis was stuck. A cage of light had trapped him, too, and was compressing against his flesh like a tightening net. And the same thing was happening to Vanderberk.

Zeff could sense the intensity of the strain. The cages were emanating more soul power than ever before, and the rest of the dome--pillars and all--were quickly diminishing, as if all of their power were being rerouted to this one, singular task of crushing the two Abolishers.

And Zeff was incredulous. Doubting his own senses.

Graves had gained the upper hand? Could this be true? Zeff could hear the Monster roaring now, but the ropes of light around him did not budge.

Where had Graves even gone? Zeff had lost him in the shuffle of all the frenzying soul power and leftover ardor from the lava.

Ah, no, there he was. Much clearer now. Most of the soul power in the area was flowing through him, and even--wait.

The ardor, too?

Graves returned an irritated glare. “I could not be seen simply releasing them back into your custody. So, yes, I took advantage of the situation in order to spread Abolish thinner and isolate the Weasel. You may not appreciate being used like that, and I apologize for it, but please also understand that, here today, we have managed to finally eliminate one of the vilest men to ever walk the planet.”

“Isn’t that ever the Vanguardian’s plea?” said Gohvis. “Just ends justify all else, no?”

But actually, truth be told, Zeff was finding himself more in agreement with Graves now. While he harbored no love for the Vanguard currently, the fact remained that he had himself been a member of that organization for almost thirty years--and not for no reason, either. Deep down, he still very much agreed with the theoretical aim of the Vanguard, and he knew how overwhelmingly important it was to bring down that mass murdering psychopath over there.

The only sticking point was that Vanderberk wasn’t truly dead yet.

A point which Gohvis didn’t hesitate to pick up on. “Nevermind the fact that you did not actually succeed in eliminating your target and have therefore endangered these Rainlords for no reason, even by your own biased metrics.”

Graves squinted briefly, then smiled. “Things were so amicable between us a moment ago. I thought we might be able to get out of this without a fight, but you seem more intent on arguing than counteroffering. And on overplaying your hand, I’m afraid. Quite sloppy of you, old friend. A bit distracted, are we? Too much going on at once, even for you?”

Now Zeff was confused again. What was Graves talking about? Gohvis wasn’t answering, either.

Before any coherent answer could be discerned, the scene before him exploded into a frenzy, and Zeff found himself relying on Axiolis’ senses again in order to comprehend even part of what was suddenly happening.

Gohvis had moved. That much seemed clear, at least. He went for Vanderberk’s body, perhaps in an attempt to grab it or shield it--or punt it out of the current time zone, maybe.

But Graves had responded.

Light filled Zeff’s vision, and in his mind, he could sense great pillars of seemingly pure soul power shooting up out of the ground, one coming up from right below Vanderberk, caging him in and carrying him high up into the sky.

“Alright, how about this? You let me kill Vanderberk, and I’ll give you the absolutely best secretary in the world. Someone so good that you’ll never even have to touch any of the things that the Weasel was managing.”

“What an offer,” said Gohvis dryly. “You get to kill one of Abolish’s top warriors and plant a spy within my ranks. I will have to think deeply about that one.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s say, I don’t kill Vanderberk and instead just take him captive. Then we can negotiate for a prisoner exchange at a later date, hmm?”

Gohvis had to mull that over, apparently. “A more tempting offer, certainly. And yet something tells me that you would consider killing Vanderberk to be a greater prize than any Vanguardians whom might be returned to you.”

Graves chortled. “A greater prize than Lamont? And more than a dozen generals?”

Gohvis’ gaze narrowed. “Yes. Do not try to swindle me.”

“Swindle you? Please. Of the two of us, I’m quite sure that I am the more trustworthy one.”

“Mm. So trustworthy that you never show anyone your real face.”

“That’s not true, either. Plenty of people have seen my face.”

“Any of them still alive?” said Gohvis.

“Definitely more than none.”

Gohvis turned to Zeff. “Did you even know that this was Graves until I identified him for you?”

Zeff wasn’t going to answer him, but Graves interjected, anyway.

“I would’ve revealed my identity to them once the fighting was over.”

“How generous of you,” said Gohvis.

“They need to know that the entirety of the Vanguard is not against them.”

“Hmph. And where were you when your compatriots were backstabbing them in their homeland?”

Zeff could hardly believe what he was hearing. Never would he have expected the Monster of the East to be speaking up in their stead. Was this some sort of trick? Probably.

“As it so happened,” said Graves, sounding abruptly annoyed, “I was quite busy dealing with some of your compatriots, Scourge.”

“Of course. Ever the magnanimous defender of the innocent, aren’t you?” Gohvis folded his arms. “Remind me again: how was it that so many of the Rainlords that you captured ended up here, in Vanderberk’s clutches?”

At that, Graves was silent. His gaze lingered on Gohvis, and he tilted his head slightly.

Zeff hated to admit it, but the Monster had made a damn good point. And the Water Dragon of Sair had to say as much. “Answer his question.”

“What in the world could a man like him be ‘useful’ for?” said Graves as he stepped closer to Zeff and Gohvis. His voice was soft and low, and his intonation was so mild that it sounded as if he might be physically incapable of getting angry.

“Organization,” said Gohvis. “His foremost utility is bureaucratic. As despised as he may be, Abolish has precious few who could replace him--and even fewer who would want to after they understand the breadth of his responsibility, especially now that Gunther and Dunhouser are gone.”

Graves paused for a dull blink. “I must confess that I was not expecting such a banal answer.”

“Well, there is also the matter of defense against Vanguardian aggression. Abolish does still have need of his strength, as well, I suppose.”

“Okay, now that explanation, I know you don’t believe,” said Graves.

Gohvis gave a hulking shrug. “I have no use for his strength, true. But... some within Abolish may yet.”

“...You’re really just saving him because you’re a lazy bastard, aren’t you? Don’t want to have any of his operations lumped onto your plate, hmm?”

A beat passed as the Monster of the East returned a blank expression. “Yes.”

Graves shook his head and sighed. “I can almost respect your honesty, at least...”

“Imagine if I was trying to kill your Magician.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not a fair comparison, and you know it.”

“No? Perhaps Eckard, then?”

“That man is quite literally your captive as we speak.”

“Mm? Truly? A bad example, then. I will concede that. But you still see my overall point, yes?”

Graves scratched his nose. “Oddly enough, I... do. That’s a rough one, buddy.”

Zeff didn’t know what he was hearing. His anger was mixed equally with confusion, now. These two warring juggernauts were sounding suddenly more like beleaguered middle managers who’d bumped into one another at a business conference.

“But if I can admit that much,” said Graves, “then can you admit to sympathizing with the difficult position you’re putting me in?”

Gohvis required a moment. “...I can, yes.”

“Well, alright. Then maybe we can come to terms.”

“Perhaps so.”

What the hell? Zeff couldn’t help taking another look around at all the devastation that still surrounded them in this conversation. Was he really the only one hearing this, right now?

Actually, it seemed so. It was a bit difficult to tell with all the rubble everywhere, but he didn’t see, nor could he sense, any other conscious people here. Had Graves subdued everyone else?

“As unpredictable as ever,” came a familiar voice, requiring another moment for Zeff to realize that it belonged to their mysterious ally. “A second ago, you may have killed him and half his kin, had I not intervened. And yet now you show mercy? What are you thinking, Scourge?”

“They would not have died,” said Gohvis. He leveled his crimson gaze up at the distant bird. “You, however, exist with an unfortunate level of strength. If we are to clash here, restraint is not something I will be able to risk.”

“Ah. I shall take that as a compliment, I think.”

“You should take it as a warning,” said Gohvis. “I have no desire to kill you, Graves. So do not force me to.”

What? Zeff looked up at the bird anew. That was Field Marshal Graves up there?

The bird spared another glance for Zeff before returning to Gohvis. “If you have no desire to kill me, then why have you come? To save the Weasel? Of all people? Please tell me otherwise.”

Gohvis made no response.

“Out of every single human being in the entire world, that man right there may, in fact, be the least deserving of your help. You must realize that, surely.”

Gohvis gave a slight nod. “You might be right.”

“Then cease this interference. Truth be told, I have no desire to kill you, either, Scourge.”

Gohvis sighed. “Unfortunately, he still has his uses. I cannot let you kill him.”

The light from the great bird diminished suddenly, and its radiant form shrunk down quickly into that of a normal human being.

Sharp jaw line. Feathery blond hair with a curly mustache. A face that was entirely unfamiliar to Zeff, as he had never met Field Marshal Graves before.

But that overcoat. Black and gold. It did indeed look like the kind that all the marshals wore.

Zeff could still hardly believe it, though. They had known that Graves was in Vantalay, heading up the Vanguardian defense against Abolish here, but by all reports, the man had done almost nothing before leaving the country entirely.

Supposedly, there’d been some sort of disagreement between Graves and the Ridgemark Private Military Police, of which the Linebreaker was a leading member.

And indeed, Zeff had thought it supremely odd that Graves would simply up and leave this country to fend for itself when so many innocent lives would obviously be at stake, but now... if he’d never truly left, then did that mean...? This had all been some kind of scheme?

Zeff’s gray eyes returned to the half-dead lump of flesh behind Gohvis.

Hmm.

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