Brent Stinebaker
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32-6 Heavy Falls the Palm (II)
🕑 Added 2024-12-04 18:58:43 +0000 UTCOh, wonderful. The pet gorilla is loose again. I wonder how that happened. I wonder how.
Veylis, Veylis, Veylis… Sweet, dear girl, you might have all the implants and modifications, but there’s still too much ape in you. I told you we needed to take him from the board while we could. You even had the pathborn for it. But, ah, look now. Another fucking problem. One that I will fix while my entire “extended family” attempts to kill me.
…
Dreamer. Dreamer? Are you out there? Is a version of you doing this? I suspect so. On the chance you are listening—tapped into your base self somehow, consider me sufficiently annoyed. But do not worry. I will return the favor soon enough.
I just need to finish making some new improvements on an old, delightfully murderous friend of ours. Her, and her dragon too…
-Deep Substance Noosphere Dispatch Intercepted by Ori-Thaum
32-6
Heavy Falls the Palm (II)
—[Empty Grave]—
In a realm formed from the roots of destruction and desolation, five voices argued with each other. Five Longeyes traded barbs, spat insults, hurled vitriol, and offered advice in equal measure.
They didn’t exist in this place so much as they were branches of it—tendrils of living lightning latched to their souls. These tendrils intertwined with their friends and foes alike, resonating through a feedback loop that connected them to their reigning arc. Through catalysts of destruction, they stole insight from existence, gazing out from wounds, its fire, its broken pieces; from what was withered, rusted, and doused; from the ruptures themselves.
This dimension of ruin, known as the Tree of Calamities—the first and forebearer of all stormtrees—crackled with destructive reverberations. But it also wilted. It dimmed and died as destruction itself was suppressed all across New Vultun.
The Chief Paladin’s return had not been foreseen.
They had lost track of him after the annihilation of Scale. More than a few Longeyes theorize he was dead, but that was just blind hope. Delusional. Empty Grave knew that. Whatever chance they’d had of waging a lightning campaign to claim victory alongside the other Massists was stalled. Stalled because the bulk of their out-Substance forces in the city were pinned beneath the Chief Paladin’s Sovereignty-sized fingers, bound from even moving.
Now, instead of a good and proper war, a tyranny of forced peace exert itself.
This left them with only a few options. They could try mustering the forces they had outside the Chief Paladin’s influence, direct what few Bloodthanes or independent operators unsuppressed to continue the war effort. Why, if some bolder Longeyes were heeded, it might even be prudent to simply assassinate the Chief Paladin.
All they needed was an opening. And to succeed where others have failed for centuries. An absurd miracle, if judged by Empty Grave.
“Wondrous. Absolutely perfectly wondrous,” the Longeye Barren Field said. As the Longeye who reigned over the Domains of Starvation, Decay, and Famine, her influence swept across all those who were hungry, all those who were malnourished, and all vegetation withering unto death. She studied the quarantine and quivered under the Chief Paladin’s oppressive might. What might it was. Through the shared shackles binding them to the first tree of absolute destruction, Empty Grave stared through hungering bodies, food inches from mouths, stomaches churning, but bodies unmoving.
A great mist had settled over New Vultun, cascading down from the outer perimeters of the Tiers and drowning even the Warrens themselves. The Sage of the Sundered Sky had been manifested at a level greater than ever before, and this time, it seized not only the outwardly violent, but even those who committed the slightest acts of overt force.
It was a frightening display of power, and a reminder that at winter’s end, even the most slothful ursa would waken and rage.
“He is calling to us,” Flame and Ash said. Her form was naught but a badly charred corpse—the catalyst of her power; the embodiment of her being. “He demands that the Guilds send him their representatives. Greet him as if subjects.”
“Those beneath his palm are but subjects,” The Drowned One whispered. A mangled body so pruned and bloated by seawater quivered with every word that left its skin. “We must attend. Even if he does not touch the tree, our forces are thin. Our strength is parted. It will take but an errant whisper, a push or a whim for him to turn his ire on us.”
“Bah!” Flame and Ash cried. “He is but a man—a perpetual boy-child. We have the means to see his elimination. We have Rendbombs of Peace and Force—”
A cold gust billowed through the Longeyes. Biting fragments of frost and eternal winter came from the mouth of a darkened cave as the eldest of the Longeyes spoke. “And how many Bloodthanes are we to lose?” Mother Winter’s voice rattled through the Tree of Calamities, frost creeping across veins of lightning. “How many of our districts will you let him flatten? I am the oldest of us, sisters. Oldest, and I remember Naeko at his prime—I remember when he Jaus’ warhound. I saw him crush cities. Pull gods apart, kill billions, duel nameless horrors dreamt from dead empires from beyond the great dark above. He knows violence. Thousandhand has carved in deeper in him than any other. Any act of war on our part will be sensed, felt, and retaliated. He is not only a Godclad, he is a peerless warrior, given the ability to wield reality as his weapon.”
A silence followed. Flame and Ash simmered in frustration. “So. Should we allow him to reign unchecked? Bow our heads to a new boy-king?”
“We should strike peace with peace,” Mother Winter said. The ice crept toward Empty Grave, toward the brutalized, dismembered body she used as her vessel. “Sister Empty Grave. You attended the trial. You were there. You beheld the Burning Dreamer—the skewed, concocted from all sides. What do you think of this? How shall we proceed?”
Empty Grave, unlike the rest of her sisters, was not panicked. Instead, she had been touched by the flame—had caught a glimpse of the Dreamer as he was metaphysically wounded by Zein. Oh, were those moments glorious. A scene from legend: Thousand, the Heaven of Love, the High Seraph, and the monstrous champion of eternal anarchy. “I believe we have an opportunity. I believe that the Chief Paladin is in league with the Symmetry and the Burning Dreamer. And I believe we may leverage this to our own ends.”
“How?” Barren Field asked.
“By greeting him. By fusing ourselves to power. By being close to the Chief Paladin’s new throne to seize our new theater—oh, make no mistake, sisters, the war has not ended. The war continues. But now our battleground is favor and diplomacy. I wish to bring Reva Javvers with me. As I did for the trial.”
“You will bring her and more,” Flame and Ash crackled. “I believe it is time our seclusion concludes. We should make ourselves formally known to the Chief Paladin. Remind him properly that we are not the Lost Ones that helped sack his home all those centuries ago.”
“Yes,” Barren Field agreed. “Let us be joined as one. A common front—a statement toward this new regime. For the sake of our Guild. Ruin be our sanctuary.”
The oath echoed from one, and was recited by all. “Ruin be our sanctuary.”
***
—[Dowager Brilliant Orchard]—
Dowager Brilliant Orchard peeled the last bits of her consumed daughter’s off from her face and looked in the mirror. Behind her, her Homo-Mantid honor guards pulled apart what remained of the traitors. Hm. Traitors was the wrong word—her daughter and the lesser Respected were loyal to the No-Dragons and its many sects, committees, and bureaus, but with the Substance dividing NerveCent from the Dowagers outside, well…
There was only one way for a Sang to keep living indefinitely, as the cycle condemned them to a fated end. The old needed to consume the curses of the young, and the young needed to defend themselves from the old. So it was that Brilliant Orchid’s own daughter came for her with two Godclad cadres.
The ambush almost worked, too. Almost. If not for the sudden intervention of Green River, of all people.
Green River, who Brilliant Orchid had stripped her of her Frame after the Nolothi debacle during the 4th Guild War. Green River, who somehow intervened just in time, in the right place, slaying an assassin with just the right means before dying thereafter herself—and completing a usurpation of a Liminal Frame. Afterward, she joined the battle and preserved the bulk of Brilliant Orchid’s cabinet — an act that earned her a great deal of popularity.
Already, some of the other Dowagers were saying things like “reinstatement” and “redaction of failures forgiven.”
How fast did feelings about a fallen daughter turn.
The turn of events was absurd. Beyond fortunate. Absurdly fortunate. So ridiculously fortunate that Brilliant Orchid found herself paranoid. And how could she not. This was Green River—her former rival. Her old enemy. To saved in such a manner was… humiliating, no matter what the circumstance was.
The fact she managed to survive Scale’s destruction and got a close up view of the Burning Dreamer was also deeply suspect. And now, with the Chief Paladin placing a curfew on violence…
Wait… This was perfect. This would be how she kept the bitch away. By sending her back to deal with the Chief Paladin as part of a… probationary review process.
As a furl of fog flicked over her body, Brilliant Orchid grinned, her daughter’s blood receding under her skin, her skin turning younger, her wrinkles smoothing, the worsening hemorrhage within her lessening until it vanished again.
Ah, if nothing else, it was good to be young again. Just a shame about her streaks of gray. She would miss those—the authority of visible age. She needed to have her hair dyed. +Eunuchs!+ She cast. +Gather the other Dowagers. And bring in First Daughter Green River as well. I have a proposition to discuss.+
***
—[Navigator Hosul]—
Navigator Hosul and Fatalist Maharata of Sanctus and Ashthrone stood at the edge of the Tiers. Even from their perch, they could see the sweeping tide—the billowing breadth of Naeko Heaven the city beyond the bend of the horizon.
Neither could remember how they got here, or how they survived the rash—the destruction of Scale. Neither were supposed to. Instead, they felt compliant. With a clear purpose in mind.
“Seek out the Chief Paladin. Guard the peace. Amend your Guilds.”
“Maharata?” Hosul asked.
The Fatalist grunted. Sparks flew out from his Rendskin.
“You get the feeling that we’ve been going about this whole thing wrong? That this war should’ve ended years ago? That… that the dream was never ours to see.”
The Fatalist turned, his exoskeletal frame whirring as he glared down at the Navigator. “I think that “Wrong; right,” Maharata said, his voice low. “Don’t know. Don’t know…”
A silence passed over both of them, behind them, a thousand warheads were frozen mid-detonation, like flames barred from a full blossom. Rendbombs were held in place. Flattened outlines of millions of drones, bioforms, and combat platforms were little more than flattened saucers through the fog swallowing reality.
“Don’t think it matters what we want anymore,” Maharata finished. “The Force-Breaker is awake. We go to the Shackler. We represent our Guilds. We face the end. We die pure and greet the blessed end with nothing left of our minds and hears.”
Hosul offered the Fatalist a flat stare. “Talking with you always fills me with optimism, Maharashtra.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“I know. I was being sarcastic.”
“I know. I just ignore it in spite of you.”
***
—[The Majority]—
Chief Paladin has returned—
Returned?
Returned!
Unforeseen!
Dreadful!
Forces pinned—External districts suppressed
Emergency Vote Declared: Eliminate Samir Naeko—
Vote canceled by Executive Action (Inner Council) — Justification: Emotional reaction; victory uncertain; cost of operation astronomical in materiel and lives.
Counterproposal: Deploy Continent Denton — Justification: Tied to Symmetry, Voidwatch, and has previous dealings with Samir Naeko. Can serve as a shadow representative for Ori-Thaum along with other diplomats.
Addendum: Locate and dispatch Ambassador Valhu Kitzuhada in support. Withhold knowledge of daughter’s death to prevent complete mental collapse (Likelihood 89.41% percent)
—[Naeko]—
And from within the threshold of a protective demiplane, a tide of rushing fog tore Axtraxis Academy back out into the real. This transition not to Highflame’s desires, nor did what they want matter much at all.
This was simply Naeko’s will.
For once, the Golds knew what it meant to be subjects to a higher power.
Below the emerging academy, the bladed peaks of a thousand resplendent megablocks were dimmed in shadow, and the streams of air traffic flowing around them were now frozen in place. Even the holo-ads flickered and shivered, the motes of light as captured as any transgressor against the laws of peace.
A shadow settled over the corner of the Tiers. The grand anvil that was Axtraxis was then swallowed by a thickening swell of mist. Through its halls, unprepared Godclads, soldiers, personnel, and high-ranking Citizens were held in place. Those who harmed another suffered a karmic injury magnified by a thousand-fold. Smears of blood and crushed splatters of pasted meat decorated the academy’s interior. The survivors were clenched in place, unable to act, unable to even blink.
Naeko would release them soon. But he needed to take inventory first. And he wanted to survey his new headquarters.
Veylis took his home from him? Fine. Fuck it. He’d take something from her as well. From her and all of Highflame. He needed a place to store some political prisoners, after all. Those worth keeping.
His fog poured through every crevice, layered over every surface, until it finally came to a stop just before the Acting Authority’s office. There, Naeko walked past two Instruments—now pressed against the wall, unable to even manifest their Heavens. He wasn’t here to talk to them—nor did they matter at all.
No, he was just here to pick up the first of his newest deputies.
Chief Paladin Naeko emerged from the mist as if born from it. Within its depths, he left Jaus protected and shrouded. The Savior—node or not—was the closest thing to a father he still had, and the best chance for Idheim to stop fucking itself over. There was no chance Naeko would risk him here and now. Not until everything was absolutely safe. And even then…
Naeko didn’t bother opening doors—or even with doors. He walked through walls and solid surfaces, the matter deforming and parting before his implacable presence. He walked through a metal gate impeding him, then through a wreck of wires and jagged plasstel. Finally, he burst through a wooden door and found four figures waiting for her.
The first was a man Naeko recognized immediately: Former Instrument Satanado Mondelles. The man was sweating visibly, his brow slick with nervous perspiration. His stubble and bloodshot eyes portrayed a man dancing close to the edge. “Chief Paladin,” he breathed.
Flanking him were Jelene Draus and Vator Greatling. There was a surprise. The two didn’t seem to be at odds or compelled in any fashion, either. Instead, both regarded him with flat, almost expectant stares. A thoughtcast left the Regular, greeting Naeko. +So. You got out.+
“Yeah,” Naeko said. “With some help.”
Draus smirked. “Help, huh? Mutual consang of ours?”
“Something like that. He sends his regards. And I’m here to give you mine—” Naeko paused as he noticed Shotin in the corner of his eye. The Seeker. He wasn’t expecting to see him here. The man was staring off to his side, talking to someone—
Wait. There was other pressure here. Powerful but subtle. It felt like… Like Love. Naeko knew that miracle—had seen Jaus use it countless times.
There were five people in the room with him.
“Shotin,” he started. He gave the Seeker an awkward nod, unsure if he knew. “Might have some stuff I need to tell you. Paladin Kare Kitzuhada…”
“I know,” Shotin said, his voice raw. He barely gave Naeko more than a glance. “I know. She came here with me. In pieces.”
Fuck. Naeko never liked the Seeker much, but an uncle watching his niece die was…
Well, that was the story of New Vultun. The story of his entire world, really.
“An unacceptable story,” the Sage grumbled, speaking aloud. Everyone before Naeko jolted. So thunderous was the Heaven of Peace that the foundations of Axtraxis groaned. “No death is permitted without our approval. No loss is acceptable if we do not ordain it. Naeko. This is your doing, your weakness. So many lost; an unrighteous war left to fester for so long. You shame me. You are no more than the mongrel child crying as the other slaves bled you.”
“And you’re now my fucking tool, so who’s the bigger bitch,” Naeko replied with a growl. The Sage was kind of a half-strand. Naeko knew that. Almost regretted having Avo wake the Heaven, but made a bit of a half-strand is what they needed right now.
“The hells was that?” Draus asked.
“My Heaven.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding. “You had him wake it up, huh?”
“Yeah,” Naeko replied. “I know yours speak to you too. And… he looked around, squinting at a tendril of pressure he kept feeling near Shotin. He pointed a finger out at the space. “You. Come out. Don’t make me use the Sage.”
A beat followed. And then, suddenly, threads of magenta erupted out from Shotin, stitching a new Heaven into form. It looked like a big humanoid made from gleaming yarn, with a hollow chest and a messy set of folds for a head. “Aedon Chambers. As I live and fucking breath. See you’re the new user of Love now.” Naeko winced, recalling what he knew about Chambers—about his choice of vicarities. Yeah. This one was going to surprise him alright.
“Hey, con—uh, Chief Glasser—Chief Naeko,” Chambers said, coughing. “You’re looking pretty rough and tough in that, uh, combat-skin of yours. Shook the city with your return.”
Naeko kept staring for a moment and snorted. “Yeah. Fine. Fuck it. You’ll do. Two things to start. I’m inducting you all into the Paladins. Which also makes me a part of your Symmetry. Or whatever the hells you want to be called. After that, we got some shit to do. Gonna use this place as our headquarters for now.” Mondelles’s eyes widened. “And don’t talk to me, Authority. Your High Seraph broke my house, so I’m taking yours.”
“Got another idea,” Draus said.
Naeko paused, eyeing the Regular.
“She speaks out of turn: Unmake her,” the Sage growled.
Naeko ignored his Heaven. “What?”
“Avo was working on making a little somethin’ of a base before the rupturing. It ain’t completely done yet, and might be a bit out of the way but… it’s beyond the reach of the Guilds. And will make a command center with all the voidtech we got.”
“Voidtech?” Naeko thought about it and snorted. “Right. Of course. Aegis. Fucking minds. Knew they were involved. So. Guessing this place is in the void, then?”
Draus grinned. “Close enough. Wanna go have a look.”
“Yeah. But I’m still taking Axtraxis with us. Decide whether I want to strip it for parts or throw it into the Nullstar when I see this ‘base’ of yours.”
Mondelles paled.
