Unlikely Companions

by Erosion Has Started

Sorkolis is the Archon of the King Banner. Ravenwood is one of the strongest Titans on the tower. During a skirmish, the two are captured by a Hive Dropship and taken to the deep. However, the two are forced to work with one another if they are to escape, and they may need to make the decision sooner than they'd like. (Warning: Long Chapters)

1. Deception

"Unlikely Companions"

Chapter One:

Deception

"No. Not again."

Sorkolis looked up at the sound of his Kell's voice, her vocalization shaking as she watched, terrified, her seldom ships subsiding into the darkness below as the cannons from the other Houses' Skiffs rattled them into the world beneath the Ketch they were standing on.

"This just happened. I thought we were safe."

The Archon picked himself to his unyielding legs as he approached his leader's side, four blue-white eyes fixed on her massively distressed frame.

"My liege–" he began.

The Kell turned to him and aimed her Shrapnel Launcher at Sorkolis' head. "No! I won't have any more from you."

"What do you think you are doing?" the Archon pressed, stepping forward as he crossed his lower arms together.

Turning on the Priest, the House of King's Kell snarled, "All I am trying to do is keep my House safe from the Winter Kell and his fleet. But no matter where I go, he always finds us." Turning to scrutinize off into the deep, the King's Kell tightened her seizure on the weapon.

Sorkolis stepped forward and attempted to pry the gun from her upper hands. "And you've done a great job at making sure we are safe. Honorable warriors are dying down there."

The Kell bared her teeth as she shook her helmeted cranium, adornments on that accessory rattling at the subtle movements. "Apparently not." She flexed her lower right hand and gestured to the siege below the Ketch they were standing in.

Sighing, the Archon took a step closer in his second chance to pulling the weapon out of the Kell's grip. "Let go," he breathed.

Giving up, the Kell let go of the Shrapnel Launcher and pulled her hands, violently, away from the Archon standing behind her. She sighed as she collapsed on the Mother Board, her mind reeling with grief.

Approaching forward, Sorkolis barked, "Just gather the rest of the Fleet and find us a new place to harbor for a short while."

"No!" reprimanded the Kell, her fingers twitching with silent infuriation. "I cannot accept those… those Van Car-a'nt to find us again. That is just something I cannot do."

Sorkolis demanded, "What are you saying? Stay and do nothing but watch the Skiffs fall?"

Turning on the Archon, the Kell revealed her perilously gleaming teeth and spat, "Ganh Ra-nis! What are you proposing we do?"

"You are the Kell! The one that is supposed to make these decisions!"

"Then I am no longer eligible for the role," the Kell snarled, lowering her massive head with shame.

Sorkolis stepped forward and worked one of his upper hands on the Kell's shoulder. "I know your mind will come to the right thing," he whispered as he stepped away from his leader's wintery touch.

The Kell pivoted and reached for the keyboard, narrowing her eyes as she glanced back at her Throne several feet away. "I suppose we can go…" she started reluctantly.

"Where to?" questioned Sorkolis, giving the Shrapnel Launcher he held a better home on the side of the crate than in his leader's twitching hands.

"Earth. To the Cosmodrome." The Kell sufficed another stare back out the window as vermilion and crimson streaks flashed across the low light of the stars; the presence of dead Fallen lingered in the night.

Tilting his gargantuan head, the Archon slung his arms across as he studied his leader. "Why there?" he pressed.

"Because hardly any Fallen reside there. We would be safe for a short while." The Kell began typing the coordinates to her destination.

"May the rest of the warriors here die with honor," soothed Sorkolis, drawing his eyes away from the window, still harboring dead soldiers. Nary could a one word describe his extensive guilt.

The Kell looked up, her four blue-white eyes twinkling leniently. "Do not feel responsible, Sorkolis. You did what you could."

"I know that," the Priest reprimanded her. "I just wished it could have been more." Residing his eyes down from her piercing glare, the Archon avoided eye contact at any further notice.

Curling edgily one of the corners of her lips, the Kell pulled her forearms away from the machinery as she approached her loyal Archon. "It was plenty," she reassured.

Sorkolis snorted and said nothing further.

Turning away, the King Kell focused back on the ship as it drifted away from the station she had previously docked it at. As the Ketch pulled further from the siege, the sinking of Skiffs slowly got tinier and tinier until it disappeared altogether.

Sorkolis got back to studying ancient House of Demons artifacts.

As the time slowly crawled, the Archon Priest observed the orange artifacts with intrigue, but lacking the proper dissecting tools. Distressed, Sorkolis fumbled a hand to his large head as the throbbing there increased with his frustration.

The Kell looked up from her work as she noticed her ally in an emotional state, and she snorted and gestured to the gate leading downstairs. At his quizzical glance, she made herself more coherent.

"Get some of the remedy on the bottom deck. It will make your aches feel better." Without taking her eyes from the screen, the Kell typed up more information on the Mother Board with her svelte fingers.

Sorkolis sniffed, unimpressed. "I need not remedies to soothe my pain," he growled.

"Then what is your solution?" questioned the Kell, briefly looking up from her work.

"The security of your House is my answer," the Archon responded drily.

Scowling, the King Kell drew her hands away from the keyboard again and crossed both sets of arms. "We will have arrived undetected at Earth within the next hour. The safety of the House of Kings should be there."

Stepping forward, the Priest scoffed, "Then that will treat my wound." He gestured to the right with his head. "Go rest. I shall commandeer the Ketch to the Cosmodrome."

The Kell bit back a rude retort, a muscle feathering in her right eyes. "You expect me to just lay down after what I just experienced?" She drew her arms away and placed them behind her slender frame, fingers tapping on the metal keyboard.

"I suppose not," snorted the Archon, glancing to his left as a quick shade of vermilion passed across his rough, gray-brown face.

"Good," conceded the Kell, turning back around as she used her long, four arms to commandeer the Ketch again. "Let me get back to work."

Sorkolis stepped away from the leader of the House of Kings and ran his svelte fingers over the soft fabric of his golden cloak. The linen slipped away from under his grip, and he turned back around to face the orange artifact he'd been previously working on.

Readjusting his daffodil-hued helmet adorned with serrated spikes and parallel edges, Sorkolis focused back on the ancient talisman before him, and soon found himself slumped over in a chair with his lower arms holding the object of interest still and with the higher ones dissecting the interior of the intriguing find.

The din of the low-lit lanterns in the command deck gave a gentle glow to the atmosphere, and the soft rustle of tattered papers and the heavy chink of machinery, though silent, sounded throughout the empty room holding only two Fallen warriors – the Kell and her Archon Priest.

After about three minutes of study, a flicker at the corner of his four eyes aroused the Archon from his work, and he swerved his head to get a better visual on the source of the ravishing gleam.

It was Earth. The cyan, white, and viridescent structure twinkled as the outline of the majestic, burning sun was silhouetted against it.

Glancing to his right to focus back at the frame of the Kell, Sorkolis noticed her eyes searching the landscape of the spherical world, observing its color, shape, size, and nature. Although invisible it actually was, the Archon knew what was equal to a smile must have crossed her face. Not a happy smile – a proud smile.

"Perfect," she growled, drawing her search away from Earth. "The Cosmodrome – a wonderful place to begin hiding."

The Priest hesitated. "Hiding?" he restated, fumbling his fingers to his side. "You said we were running here, not hiding."

Snorting, the Kell looked up and crossed her lower pair of arms. "I changed my mind. The House of Winter will never find us here. If they do, we will fight for Earth. The King Banner shall rise."

"That's not a good idea. Do you plan of just staying away from the Guardians as well?"

Nodding, the Kell retorted, "Yes. It shall be a perfect spot. Away from everyone."

The Archon snarled, "We will surely be caught sometime soon."

"Now, that's what I planned not to happen. We'll find a way."

Sighing, for he knew the Kell was a stubborn one, Sorkolis just looked away.

The leader of the King Banner looked behind her, bitterness on her hidden expression. "Don't be vehement."

Curling his fingers furiously, Sorkolis spat, "The House of Kings do not hide! We are Fallen, my liege!"

"I know," the Kell snarled. "But it is time we found different tactic as we rebuild society."

Sorkolis growled, "On Earth?"

Wheeling around to face her follower, the leader started, "Yes! On Earth! Whatever is the problem?"

The Archon just sighed and snorted, "We are subject to the last city. To… Guardians."

"Kan-ruo, Visi'na corolois!" cursed the Kell.

Wincing from her harsh tone, Sorkolis just gestured to Earth and nodded. "I follow you, Rikantor, the King Kell, to Earth. Anyone denying this opportunity to rise is not only a fool but a new member of the Exile Banner."

"Good," conceded the leader of the House of Kings. "Rally the dock team and lower the Ketch to the station I've plotted on the coordinate grid. I'll… I'll see you soon." She offered a weak nod of her graceful head.

The Archon returned her gesture and began his voyage to the deck below.

"Oh yes," added the Kell, her voice placid. "And may you gather our supplies as well? I intend to stay here for a while."

Again, the Priest submitted with his massive, resistant, yellow-hued helmet and subsided to the lowly-lit, empty, brown-tinted hallways.

---

"There. The rest of the Fleet have been dispatched at the Cosmodrome. You may come out, my liege."

It was a frosty day in Old Russia. The soft glisten of sunshine on the sparkles of snow promised good weather as the rest of the House of King's fleet pressed on into their new hideout. The tatters of ripped, golden banners flailed in the unyielding wind as a soft current of wintery air passed over the Refinery.

The Kell thrust out of the Ketch that some Dregs on board were still tending to. Her yellow armor sparkled in the sun majestically. Those metal-clad limbs absorbed the beauty from the scene as she passed her blue-white eyes across the courtyard.

"Good," she rasped as she dropped off the last feeble step of the dock platform, facing Sorkolis with an impassive glare. "What did the Barons tell you about the landscape when they were off scouting?"

"Ghanrudar. Van Car-a'nt are nowhere in sight, as far as we know." Gesturing with his winding, armored palms, the Archon reassured, "You picked a magnificent location."

The Kell snorted in approval and drew her sword. "No detections of Guardians, either?" she pushed, her eyes narrowed as she gazed across the ribbons of landscape unfolding before her illuminated eyes. At the Archon's curled lip, she added huskily, "The other Houses aren't the only thing that matters."

Sorkolis dipped his head. "I don't believe so. The King Barons never said anything about human traces."

"That's all I needed to know," confirmed the Kell as she shoved by the Archon and breached the incline to the Refinery's entrance. The Archon watched her go with a glisten of sorrow in his twinkling eyes, and he fought the sigh that resided deep in his muscular chest.

Wrapping his hand tighter around his Shrapnel Launcher, he lifted it up with his two larger, higher hands and picked his way after the leader. On his journey to the entrance a Baron stepped out, followed by two Vandals cloaked in golden drapes.

"What do you want?" demanded Sorkolis as he studied the Fallen warriors.

The Baron, only slightly larger than a Captain of the Fleet, retorted, "The Kell announced that you must lead a patrol to the border of the Terrestrial Complex to scout for Guardians. She said one of the solar panels detected heat signatures down there."

Twitching his neck muscles, the Archon growled, "Why would an Archon take leader for a scouting unit?"

"It's what she wants," the Baron replied, a respectful din to his handsome tone. "There are five Pikes left on the Ketch that we can use to get down there. The Terrestrial Complex, she added, through radio-waves and frequency amplifiers, has been noted to have a patrol team down there. She wants to know if the readings are accurate."

Lifting the Shrapnel Launcher, the Archon responded drily, "Then let's not have her disappointed. Obtain the Pikes and meet me at the dispatch zone."

"Right away, sir," directed the Baron loyally, before rallying the Vandals to subside to the Vehicle Drop.

Turning away from the four other Fallen, Sorkolis sought out the Inferior Sector Link, the chip he would install into a hard drive slot at the edge of the territory, if he could find a link input somewhere at the border. Keeping it handy, he inserted the disk into his slanted belt, and tightened the linen holding it together before he approached his meeting location.

Since the Pikes were tacked and unhooked from the Vehicle Drop, the Archon mounted his personal vehicle – the small brown ones were too miniscule to hold his gargantuan mass – and started the engine.

Small lights of purple and green flashed across his line of sight as the gears started, and the massive Priest slipped his heavily armored legs into the foot pockets, testing the brakes with caution. When all seemed in check, he moved his Shrapnel Launcher to his lower arms and used his higher ones to put his stronger limbs on the handles.

The patrol started out into the frosted wasteland of Old Russia. The Cosmodrome had clouds rolling high overhead, the righteous flicker of brown and silver passed Sorkolis' line of sight as he watched the ground ahead of him.

The Pikes steered in and out of rocks, spires, and plane debris as they neared the border. Since there were no tracks in the snow that indicated that hardly anyone was back here at the Terrestrial Complex. Soothed, the Archon settled his tense muscles as he steered his resistant, golden Pike over the wandering hills.

Tattered, golden cloaks flagged in the sunshine as the vehicles pulled on, bursts of vermilion contrasted with brass streaks tearing across the open sky as the Pikes swerved in and out of towering structures. Ancient remains of building were still hung in the open air, and scattered rubble drifted away from those old human remnants as it aged older than it was three seconds ago.

Readjusting his yellow-hued gas-mask with one of his free hands, the Archon looked out across the Complex, its beauty little, but intriguing. Perhaps the ancient House of Demons will have artifacts here, Sorkolis guessed.

As the buildings faded from sight, the only remains were soon that of rusted ships washed up from disaster and desperation. Half of what was actually left had already been searched and torn up. The Pikes were steered to the right of these shipwrecks, avoiding direct contact with anyone wanting to investigate there.

Soon the silhouette of the border rose in the blazing afternoon sky. Unyielding legs crashed into the compact snow as the Archon dismounted from his metal, golden Pike. Narrowing his white-blue eyes, the leader of the scout unit looked out across the empty land for life.

"There is nothing here," rumbled Sorkolis, reaching down for his Shrapnel Launcher.

One of the Vandals was running his bandaged hands down his long, golden cape symbolized with the mark of the Kings. "Shall we post?" he asked.

The Archon snorted, "I doubt that'd be a necessary movement."

"Better safe than sorry," added the Baron, slinging his own Shrapnel Launcher over the armored part of his shoulder to equip it to the strap on his back.

"I could bring it up with the Kell," Sorkolis conceded, his eyes flitting to the edge of the mountainous range of hills.

The Vandal who'd been affirming his cape suggested, "The frequency amplifiers are usually never inaccurate. Do you think the Guardians could have moved?"

"No," growled Sorkolis. "There would have been tracks. These are the direct coordinates."

Sniffing in, the Vandal pointed down the incline and offered, "It did just snow."

The Archon looked down the hill and noticed broken bits of shrub nestled in the corner of some rubble. Skirting down the slope, he paused, inadvertently sloshing some snow on the Baron's muscular frame, which emerged protest from him.

Ignoring the complaint, Sorkolis worked the stick in his two fingers and held it up so all the members of the scout could better observe it.

"So, there were humans," the Baron concluded, flinging his arms together.

"Correct," the Priest said, crunching the shrub to pieces in his hands. "That does mean that we should post."

One of the Vandals dispatched from the group and slugged up the incline to reach his muddled, brown Pike. "I will return to the Kell and inform her of intruders in the Terrestrial Complex. The four of you keep going." With that, he started the Pike and revved off.

Sorkolis suppressed his growl, looking for intel along the serrated peaks of the Cosmodrome's hills and mountains. Far away, the waves along the coast crashed against the jagged rocks guarding the mainland. Silence for what seemed like a sky-length hushed over the scout patrol.

"You heard Tilakis," the Baron resounded, his blue-white eyes gleaming. "We have to keep finding clues of human presences here."

The Archon turned to the smaller form of the Fallen, twitching his golden-and-silver helmet as he studied the Baron. "We have found enough. You can even smell the reek of the Guardians here. What is there that is yet to be found?"

"I don't know," admitted the Baron. "Something."

Dissatisfied with that answer, the Archon turned away from the rubble scattered with shrouds of shrubbery and broken sticks. The Vandals that hadn't gone back with the other one started making their ways back to the Pikes.

Tightening his seizure on the Shrapnel Launcher so tightly his knuckles turned white, Sorkolis made tracks across the open landscape as well, keeping his head faced outward to pinpoint any stray Guardians along the hills. Luckily, none of them were found, and silence followed the clearing as silvery wisps of wind and snow settled over the disengaged vehicles.

The Archon's didn't mount his golden Pike up right away, but gyrated to look out across the long, windy slope of the peaks in the distance. The ascension of the sun in the midday sky had climaxed, and was now winding its way down to the ground again.

Finally engaging in his Pike, the Fallen Archon rebooted the system hardwire, activated the amplifiers, and rolled off the hills.

With the scout team following, they swerved across the landscape, tailors flapping in the wind as the three soldiers, one Priest, sailed majestically across the snowy, waste-ridden Earth.

As the scenes of the unknown world unfolded before the scout unit, the sun tipped even further beyond its hold in the sky until it has subsided from view altogether. Riding out along the narrow swerves of the hills, the snowy cliffs provided some cover from any disruptions as the expert team evaded shards of metal, brass, shrubbery, and sticks sitting in the way.

Squinting across the mist-blanketed courtyard, the celestial moon rose up over its sheathe in the sky and settled in the air. Sorkolis fought on in the nighttime, returning home to the King Banner welcoming him with open arms.

---

There was silence as the news was taken in, then…

"What do you mean, you found something?"

The Kell was perched on her Throne, fingers drumming at her armored legs. She harbored a look of pure, undeniable loathing and revulsion on her face, though she appeared as though trying to remain impassive.

"Hold on," the Baron said. "Wasn't Tilakis supposed to return with these news?"

One of the Vandals nodded. "Yes. You mean he never came to notify the Kell?"

The Vandal to the right of the Kell, the Kell's guard, shook his head. "Tilakis never made it back at all," he admitted sourly, his sword trembling in his hands.

"You mean he never returned?" repeated the Baron.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," the Kell's guard confirmed, unease embedded in his righteous tone.

The same Vandal that had spoken before agreed, "That is unfortunate news."

"So Tilakis was felled…" the Kell turned to face Sorkolis, both sets of arms crossed. "You let him off on his own in hostile territory?"

Gulping with embarrassment, the Archon admitted, "We never saw anything on the way there. I thought it was safe."

"Apparently not," agreed the Baron, a scowl on his face, though invisible to the others it was.

"He offered to come here. We never saw a Pike as we returned, so we figured he'd made it back." The Archon looked back out as the frosty snowstorm was taking over the sky. Soon, the scene was overwhelmed by the snowy atmosphere.

The low lighting of the Kell's Throne room prevented any sight out of range of twenty feet away from you. Sorkolis found this frustrating as he attempted to focus on the Kell's revolted face, her helmet mostly covering her expression.

Sighing, the Baron turned to leave, but with a reprimanding tone, the Kell forbid him to abandon her presence until the questioning was ended officially.

"So what did you find?" pressed the Kell, unfolding her arms to rest them on the golden armrests of her tattered Kings Throne.

The Baron waited for anyone to speak up, but when they didn't he sighed and offered himself instead.

"We located a few broken shrubs at the real edge of the Terrestrial Complex. But a snowstorm happened right before we entered, and it appeared as though the frequency amplifiers were wrong. But it turns out, Tilakis' death proves this… that it was right."

The Kell snarled, "So they are closer than we think. You may all go." She gestured for the door.

As the House of Kings warriors turned to leave, the leader of the House finally pointed to Sorkolis.

"You – stay."

Pausing, the Archon turned around and returned the ugly glares the Kell's Guard were giving him. He approached the tattered Throne and bent down, uncomfortably on one knee, his eyes searching the Kell's own. "What is it you may request, my liege?"

"You can stand," she huffed in exasperation.

Getting to his unyielding legs, the Archon swiped himself off before lifting his helmeted cranium to focus his attention back on the impatient Kell before him.

"Explain," she started, holding back her obvious anger. "You were the leader of the patrol. I was expecting more from you. You never disappoint."

Fumbling, the Archon started, "Like I said, we were exploring, he said he would come back to get some guards out there. Not much else left to say."

Sighing, for she was clearly hoping for a better answer, the Kell clutched her head in agony. "Just go," she breathed, waving her lower hand to the door as she gripped her ravishing cranium.

Silently, Sorkolis started to slip away from the Kell's presence, but turned back once to look at her distressed shape.

"Are you okay?" he decided instead, concern lacing his tone in ribbons.

Looking up, the Kell growled, "I'm fine. Just leave, for Tan'ru-kis' sake."

Edging out of the Throne room, Sorkolis shut the door behind him, leaving the Kell with her Guard, who loyally perched beside the Throne for any intruders.

The snowstorm had picked up in rate by the time the Archon glanced back out the window with his searching eyes. The wintery landscape, once green and brown with the promise of good weather, had been scraped of any character and now remained a dry bone, barren of any flavor.

What Sorkolis really wanted to do was explore the House of Demons artifact closer, but he knew that was out of the option. Slinging his Shrapnel Launcher over his arm, the Archon decided he would go out and try to find Tilakis.

Maybe, he wasn't really dead. This was a new territory, after all. He might have been lost. Especially since there was no proof he had been felled. There was no Pike. But it would take an eon to find a missing Fallen in the depths of the snowstorm, but with such light gear, Tilakis could not have been expected to survive.

Readjusting his gas-mask, he flagged the cape around him as he made his way to the Vehicle Drop, ready to tack up his golden Pike for the search.

Maybe then, the Kell would not be so disappointed with him. He always got butterflies in his stomach when the leader was angry with him – he wasn't sure about the feeling, but he knew that the leader and himself were close. Sorkolis brushed off one of his shoulders as he padded down the stairs, searching for the Vehicle Drop.

Sorkolis decided he didn't want to risk the lives of any of the other Fallen, so he went alone instead. Turning away from the vacant scene, he opened the door to the drop and stepped in cautiously, flickering on the dim lighting.

The golden Pike was untacked at the side of the dispatch zone, and he hooked it up before he accelerated out and into the thick snow beyond.

Instead of the dazzling sky and beautiful hills just an hour before, the entire landscape was covered with fluffy white snow, stretching for as far as the eye could see. The sky rolled high overhead, promising more snow the further the Archon went out.

Sorkolis eyed the ridge of the hill, his four eyes wishing that he could find Tilakis better. But no matter where he searched, the Vandal was hidden from prying eyes. All the Archon Priest wished at this point was to impress his leader, Rikantor. He had already been depressed at letting the Vandal go in the first place, and he should have stuck with his senses.

However, no matter how much that nagged at his side, Sorkolis refused to let the past bother him. His only objective was getting the Vandal back home safely…

If he wasn't already dead.

Please don't be dead.

I can't let you die. This for you…

And… the Kell.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt something for Rikantor. He didn't know if it was friendship or… something greater than that. He was still volatile in his decision, but he couldn't help but get those butterflies, or the want to reach out and comfort the Kell when she was distressed.

But that was impossible! He had a dilemma on his head for a short while, before he knocked it out of his brain with brute force. The only thing that he should have been focusing on was to get that Vandal back home.

However, the feat turned rough as he maneuvered the slopes, his cape winding spirals behind him, the icy landscape turned to ashes and bone. The atmosphere lacked color, and the sky was turning darker at every turn. A sense made Sorkolis want to turn and go back to the Kings' campsite, but determination pressed him on.

Thunder cracked in the sky, a flicker of electricity belted out of nowhere, striking against the sea far away.

This is useless! He could be anywhere.

But if that Vandal was alive, he would not be for long unless he had found shelter underneath some of those rusted metal planes that the Archon had found when the Ketch had flown over the Mothyard.

A canyon to the right might have provided some shelter for the Fallen Vandal. Maybe Tilakis thought he could find security under one of the arches from the rocky overhangs. Swerving the golden Pike right and into the disastrous zone, he kept his eye for any openings in the stone for caves that might have been large enough to fit a Pike in.

However, there was nothing except for stone gray walls, and the quick, silver flurries of snow that momentarily passed across Sorkolis' line of sight. Frustrated, he threw himself off of his Pike and landed in the waist-high snow.

Pounding his fury into the watery sea of white, he collapsed as he took a few final blows, for even the snow had given him his own beating.

Pulling himself together, he tossed around until he was on his back and gazing up into the spiraling sky. Sorkolis had to go on – he knew it. Pulling himself to his legs, he brushed off the few specks of snow off of his armor and tilted his neck awkwardly. What was he doing? He had to keep moving.

But… he had seemed to have misplaced his Shrapnel Launcher in the snow.

Rian-ka Osjar! A nasty curse, if there ever was one.

The Pike, getting lost in the waves of snow, was crashed beside a rock next to the canyon wall, and Sorkolis approached it warily, his vehement eyes scanning the solid golden vehicle as with every moment it became more absorbed in the deep.

Placing all four hands on the golden Pike to move it, the Priest wrenched it out of the socket it which it had been embedded, and he thrust it out of the snowy enclave, brushing off the armor and propellers as he studied it for any major distortions. But it seemed intact, for the most part, and he climbed back on it, resettling his head to focus.

He hoped that the Kell wasn't looking for him, or anyone for that matter. His absence had been unannounced, and if the Archon returned with no one by him, then Sorkolis knew he'd be in for it.

Looking up into the husky gray sky, he reached down with his right, lower arm and pulled out a knife from his belt as a weapon. Repulsive that his beloved Shrapnel Launcher was lost in the snow, he inserted both legs into the pockets and flipped on the gears, but the dark monitors remained their bland color.

The engine had died.

Sighing for his mistakes, Sorkolis pulled himself off the vehicle and plopped back down into the snow. Something vital in the interior must have been scathed. The golden Pike was no good now. If he wanted to have it repaired without having a three-day search in the snow, he'd need to drag it back.

Sticking his upper left hand into the satchel, the Priest pulled out the Inferior Sector Link and eyed it. Perhaps if he found an ancient outpost out here, he might be able to contact the Fleet without having to visually notify them. It was worth a shot.

Enveloping the chip into his palm as he wrapped his fingers together in a tight fist-clench, Sorkolis waded through the snow to the side of the canyon walls, prodding his gas-mask to a more comfortable position on his face. His blue-white eyes scanned the ridge for any signs of that Pike Tilakis might have left behind, but since his own much larger vehicle was already getting consumed in the fronds of the deep, the Archon couldn't doubt that the Vandal's vehicle was gone.

Lost to time itself.

Sniffing in the vacant emptiness, holding the knife out with his lower right hand, the Archon pressed on through the snowy cliffs. Perhaps Tilakis had not even come this way. It was a doubtful thing if there ever was one. Tilting his gargantuan head, the Archon searched the cliffs and took one last glance back at his golden Pike.

There had better have been an input link nearby. Fumbling for his serrated spikes on the back of the helmet mounted on his cranium, Sorkolis ploughed on the rough the depths of the wintery atmosphere, his eye trained on the ribbons of ash ahead of him.

The luxurious comforts of the embracing caverns sitting isolated to the right seemed comforting, but the Archon pressed on. The Kell would be shown the body of Tilakis, alive and well.

And… she would be impressed that Sorkolis had gone such a long way out into the blizzard for the search. Such a great find would surely make her proud. Raising his chin in determination, Sorkolis touched a lenient hand to the side of the rocky peaks as he felt for an incline that would maybe give way for a cave.

However, no matter the attempts that were made, all failed. Slinging his knife back in a posture to maim if the time need be, the Archon edged along the cavernous canyon, his gaze intent as he focused on the walk ahead.

To the left, there was the coast, with waves crashing furiously against the rock walls. The howl of the wind blanketed any other noises of reaching the Priest's ears, so the silence was not comforting.

Wishing he had never made the choice to go out in the darkness, the Archon pressed his back against the wall as a silent scream stifled all movements in the air. It was not the screech of a Fallen, thought Sorkolis with his relief. It was the scream of something else. A human scream? No, it could not have been.

So… what was it?

It had been screamed at the end of the canyon in which Sorkolis was now standing. It might have been a yell for help. Picking his walking speed into a mind-whirling run, using his unyielding legs, the Archon sped across the unstable terrain, reaching for his knife with unease.

Golden cape spinning vacantly behind him, daffodil-helmet searching for any signs of other noises, the Priest dashed majestically against the wind straining to hold him back. Their violent strikes did not halt Sorkolis as he sprinted against the crashing incline.

The ground become more fatal as the warrior of the Kings Banner raced furiously against the attempts of nature.

What had yelled? It surely had been anonymous, not anything he had ever heard. Or recognized, for that matter. Shivering quietly, for surely the air brought with it death, the Archon pelted forward, keeping his narrowed eyes on the quivering landscape as the trees howled madness.

Pausing against the chains holding him down, the Archon looked down as the incline halted halfway into the ground. The area stilled imperiously, and silence contained what remained of the overshadowed canyon.

Winter's fury had hesitated briefly, and Sorkolis took this a good chance to look out across the landscape, his head tilted at an angle for easier observations of his surroundings. Emerald twinkles flashed in the sky overhead, and the Archon looked up to see the lovely auroras happening in the air.

How nice.

Not using anything as distraction, the Archon waded out across the open as he paused beside a little hole in the side of the canyon. Inside, there was a crashed, brown Pike. Heart picking up, the Archon thrust into the hole and ducked beneath the jutting arches that might scrape at his cranium. Making sure he was well bent-over, the military official made his way through the cavern.

Suddenly, a moan sounded below him. There he was, Tilakis, laying on the ground with a wet pool of red blood soaking into his golden drapes. The Archon scanned him with his helmet, and found a few vital wounds along his sides.

"S-Sorkolis…" breathed the Vandal.

The Archon crouched down beside the felled warrior, his eye lenient in sympathy. Struggling against the encumbrance of death, the golden-cloaked Fallen was desperately holding on to life.

"Run… tell the Fleet… that…" It was too late. Tilakis had died.

Sorkolis paused, pressing his hand against the Fallen's head in a ritual of grief. "No…" he whispered.

Suddenly, a screech just like the last one sounded from right before him. Suddenly, scurries were heard on stone as hundreds of creatures must have been moving back there.

In a panic, Sorkolis raced for the entrance, heart pounding as he reached for his knife. Tilakis had been ripped apart. This was news for the whole Fleet. Instead, for evidence of his find, he paused by the entrance and picked up Tilakis over his hefty shoulder. Boarding the Pike that was much too small, and a bit broken for it flamed in the front, the Archon sped out of the area as he vanished, looking for his own golden one.

He soon came across it, only the tailors on the back that provided maneuverability were visible as it was hidden under its nest of snow. Pulling it out, the Archon dragged it through the ridged terrain, muscles rigid and stiff with immense power and effort as he pulled.

Once he was a notably safe spot from the canyon wall, the Archon climbed on the golden Pike again in another struggle to kick the engine to life. Using the electric swords on his belt, the Archon tried the last attempt to kick-start the vehicle to life.

With a coherent realization, the engines had flamed to life, sending spurs of green, purple, and golden across Sorkolis' field of vision. Grinning, he reached down to grab Tilakis and hoist him down with bands to the seat of the Pike, and soon they were on the way back to the campsite.

---

The Baron gasped in alarm once the Vandal's body had rolled down in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked, bending on one knee to look down at the dead Fallen.

Sorkolis dismounted his torn, golden Pike as he panted from the effort of getting back. As he untacked the vehicle, he growled, "Got ripped apart from a mysterious creature."

The Baron observed the body and ran his fingers across it. "What creature? Was Tilakis alive when you found him?"

"He died, warning me of something. He could never finish what he was about to say."

"Shame he died like this. He was a great warrior." The Baron scooped up the body of the felled soldier.

Sorkolis nodded. "Indeed. But don't carry that body yet," he added as he watched the Fallen picking up Tilakis.

The Baron was puzzled. "What else would I do with him?"

The Archon held out his upper right arm. "I will bring him to the Kell."

"Why would you do that?"

Sighing, Sorkolis insisted repulsively, "She needs to know."

"And you will do this by bringing her the body of Tilakis?" the Baron demanded. "Can't you just let her know? Tilakis needs to be put to rest."

Clenching his fists arrogantly, the Priest spat, "Now. Or the Prime Servitors shall punish you."

Now more than willing to oblige, the Baron handed the Archon the body of the Vandal. "Very well, sir."

As the growl subsided from the Archon's chest, he weaved through the Refinery's corridors to the Kell's Throne room. At least now she would be impressed, possibly, that he had gone out to find the body of Tilakis.

Two of the Kell's Guard were standing outside the metal door, their hands tightened over the broad helms of their electric swords. They noticed the Archon Priest at the entrance of the door, and they cross their lower arms together as they lifted their chins.

"What do you want?" one of them asked.

The other added, "Make it quick."

The Archon snarled and revealed Tilakis' body. "I have some information for the Kell. If you don't mind me having an audience with her."

"Just don't get ideas," the first Kell's Guard spat as he opened the metal door to the dimly-lit, rusted Throne room.

Sorkolis entered Rikantor's room, his golden cape falling after him as he ran his fingers gently through the Vandal's clothing. Then, he dropped the body on the floor.

Eyes wide, the Kell watched the bloody mess hit the golden rug. She looked at the other two guards beside the front and gestured for them to leave.

"But my liege," began the first one.

The Kell snarled, "Just do it!"

Sighing, the two of the Kell's Guard left, leaving the three Fallen, one dead, in the room with one another.

"Explain," the Kell growled impatiently.

Sorkolis offered for the leader of the House of Kings, "I went out to look for Tilakis. And it seemed as though I found him."

"So that's where you were…" snarled the Kell. "Do you not realize how… worried I was?"

The Archon went stiff and rigid. "I did this to prove a point, my liege."

"What made you think going out there was a good idea?" she ranted, her fingers twitching. "What if you'd died, too?"

Sorkolis bowed his head, shame written on his face. "I was… I thought it would make you happy."

The Kell laughed. "Happy?" she demanded, slumped on her Throne majestically, her golden armor twinkling in the din of the lights.

"Happy as in proud. I went into a… a blizzard, for the Overlord Servitor's sake, and yet you still loathe me!" The Archon leniently nudged aside the body of the felled warrior.

The Kell's face fell, and her vocalization was quiet. "Sorkolis…" she breathed. "I do not loathe you. I want you to be safe." She pulled herself off the Throne and approached her loyal follower.

The Archon snorted, not meeting her eye contact. Beckoning to the body, Sorkolis added, "He… tried to warn me of something before he died."

"What was that?" questioned the Kell.

Shaking his head, Sorkolis finished, "He could never quite make out the words until he moved on."

The House of Kings leader was hesitant for a brief moment, before she coiled her fingers and asked instead, "What was the killer of Tilakis?"

"A creature," the Archon said.

"What kind of creature?" Rikantor started.

Atrociously, the Archon spat, "I'm not sure, but they deserve to rot. To burn!"

The Kell nodded. "Yes, it does." Receding her lips, she added, "I will send a scout party in a few days to investigate."

"No Vandals or Dregs," ensured Sorkolis.

Rikantor shook her head. "Of course not," she murmured.

Sorkolis sighed. "Make sure you do not involve yourself in these creatures. They are not in the Terrestrial Complex."

"Why should I not? Anywhere on this Earth if there be a threat is to be eliminated."

"I want you alive, my liege. You are a good Kell. You deserve the opportunity to lead and make sure the Kings Banner does rise."

With her eyes scanning the Archon's face, the Kell made a dull look and snarled, roughly pulling away from Sorkolis. "Is that all you want?" she spat darkly. "To make sure our Banners shall be lifted in the breeze of the Cosmodrome?"

"No…" growled the Archon. "I want you to be safe."

Gesturing to the metal door, the Kell spat, "The Guard are here for that exact purpose. Do not worry, Sorkolis. I will be fine."

"Please make sure of that," begged the Archon. "Because–"

The door to the Kell's Throne room burst open as the Baron tumbled in. He paused as he noticed the two Fallen ahead of him so close together. "Did I just?" he started, a shade of red passing over his face.

"Er, no." To Sorkolis' disappointment, the Kell had pulled away and approached the Kings Baron ahead of them. "What is it you need?"

The Baron bent over to pick up the Vandal's body, shooting Sorkolis a furious glare. "I needed to retrieve Tilakis' corpse."

The Kell breathed, "Oh."

As the trusted Baron scooped up the limp form of the deceased Fallen, he purred, "So please, get back to what you were… uh." He glared at the Archon. "Doing."

"Nothing important," the Kell promised snidely.

The Baron left the room. As soon as Sorkolis had opened his mouth to speak again, one of the Kell's Guard opened the door.

"My liege," he obligated. "One of the Captains would like to see to you. He has a request on behalf of the honor of the Servitor Overlords."

Taking one quick look at Sorkolis, the Kell nodded and exited the room. The door shut, leaving the Archon alone with nothing to do except stare vacantly at the empty little Throne on the floor adorned with trophies of majestic kills.

Instead, the Archon decided he was going to study back on one of the House of Demons, the extinct house of legacy, and figure out what about them he could. He hoped the House of Devils had not picked through what they could find.

Since the Archon had taken a turn at a little room to the far side of the Refinery, he plopped down there and grabbed the orange artifact in his higher arms.

It was a mysterious thing for sure. The helmet of a Fallen Captain. He had worn an orange cape, clearly, and was one of the many strongest of the Fleet. He had consumed enough Ethic Light to grow to the size of an Archon.

Dissecting the cape, Sorkolis rubbed his fingers between it. Linens softer than silk. He brushed his hand across the mark of the Demons, but it was tattered and rubbed off. The only piece of what used to be a noble mark etched onto to the cape with golden lettering was now rubbed off like color on a bathing suit.

Sniffing in, for the cape smelled old and worn down, the Archon dragged a piece of a knife and cut out the mark. It was graceful despite its old nature.

Setting the mark aside, the Archon used his lower hand to hold the helmet down that the Captain wore and tested it for any of the old intel helmets of the Fallen wore. However, the helmet was dead to time itself, and it did not function.

Sighing, Sorkolis worked his way around the fabric lining the lenient outside of the Captain's helmet and rested it on a hook. There was no way he was taking that beautiful thing apart.

Deciding it was done work for a day, the Archon plopped down on a golden bed and rested his eyes down. Perhaps the Kell would have time for a conversation then. Without everyone else coming to butt in.

Crossing his arms behind his head, the Archon wondered benevolently why the Kell was so dedicated to his safety. Perhaps she saw him as a friend, too? Not just a worker that followed her into a fight?

Wishing it were true, the Priest summoned a quick prayer to the Overlord Servitors before he closed his eyes to get rest. The only thing that was important at this time was a good night's rest.

It was only as the bird's call in the depths of the morning that aroused the Archon from his rest. Rising to his feet, he exited the room in which was dedicated for his study, and watched a few Captains rushing in with wounded Vandals, arms and legs bandaged.

"What happened?" demanded the war official as one of the groups rolled by.

Another one of the Kings Barons, Yutis, replied, "These are the survivors of the attack in Erde-Balane. They happened to pick up our distress call, and they found their ways back home."

Snorting, Sorkolis asked, "Who sent a distress call?"

"Not sure," growled Yutis. "But they did a good job with it. At least fifteen percent of our Fleet is now back."

Startled, the Archon demanded, "The intergalactic compression did not consume them?"

Yutis shook his head and added, "It does not appear so."

Interested, the Archon watched as a bunch of Captains rushed by with Dregs on their shoulders. One of the few blue-haired mongrels had one of his two arms missing, and he yowled in his agony.

Disturbed by all the noise, one of the Kell's Guard peered out around the corner and stared at all the commotion. Pulling his lips backs in a revolted growl, he gyrated and cemented one of his hands to the spear he had seized in his palms. From when he turned, Sorkolis guessed he was going off to warn the Kell of the new arrivals.

But possibly were going to be treated like inmates.

As the Captains were ushered down the halls of the Refinery, another one of the Kell's Guard approached. It notified the Captain that the wounded warriors were to be given hospitality and were going to be housed on the lowest floor.

Saluting, the Captain used his four arms to steady the Dreg he had slung over his brute shoulders, and he guided the rest of the returning soldiers down the hallway as well. Soon, after all had died down, the area was empty and silent again.

"What was that all about?" asked one of the Dregs as they reloaded their arsenals. "You mean the relocation party actually got home?"

"This isn't home," Sorkolis warned, a growl in his chest. "This is just were we are hiding before we can return to our actual home."

Tilting his head, the Dreg seemed quizzical. "But the Kell said this was a permanent reside place."

She better not have!

Clenching his fists, the Archon offered instead, too angry for speech, "Er, yes. I will bring it up with her."

Turning around, hidden from the Dreg's curious blue eyes, Sorkolis pressed his back against the wall and took a deep breath. If the Kell had notified that this was the King Banner's new home, then she had a mistake waiting to happen.

Guardians would come. They would destroy everything. The Archon has not seen much of humans, Exos, or the Awoken, but he did not underestimate their power. The last city was not far from here. It would take a mere twenty minutes for a fly in a Skiff from here to there. This was bad news indeed.

Wanting to just charge down the door to the Kell's room and yell at her for being mad, Sorkolis thought otherwise and found it best to simply say nothing at all.

But he would, the next time he saw the Kell, tell her that. She had better not have lied and notified the Fleet that they were staying here. She had promised Sorkolis that this was just a spot to be hiding from the Winter Kell. Or even the Devil Banner. But she never said this was a permanent spot.

She better not have! Please, just let the Dreg have not heard her right!

Tightening his grip, he willed to the Prime Servitors overhead, watching them that hopefully, that was not what the Kell had actually told to her Fleet.

---

The wintery chill of the frosted outlands invited Sorkolis to a ride with his tacked golden Pike, rebound and healthy again. But silence had enveloped most of the landscape, twinkled with gleaming, rusted metal and spires of pure icy residue.

Crouching beside a frothing stream that spat venom at the Fallen walking by, the Archon raised his eyes to the sunny flare overhead. Most of the snowstorm had simmered down and revealed rays of sunshine that scattered across the landscape, enveloping the patrol in warm fronds.

So much calmer than the bitter frost of winter that had raged before. The Kell had requested, via the Guard, that the Archon take a patrol to where he had seen such monsters. With no choice, Sorkolis was now walking with a bunch of Dregs, Vandals, and two Scorch Captains behind him. The sun promised good weather, which was for the least.

Swiping away a few rattled bugs that escaped the Archon's field of sight, the scouting unit went on their way. The canyon provided some shade from the igneous, fiery heat, but to be honest the swathes felt like tremors of lava running in attenuated rivulets down the walls of the Cosmodrome.

However, the wind kept perilous smacks to battle back such an unsustainable mass, and luckily it proved to be no difficult feat to be on the edge of their toes towards the cave in which the Archon had found.

"Don't mind me if I can't remember the exact location of which I found Tilakis," growled the Archon, clutching his loaded Shrapnel Launcher in his higher arms, tilted on one of his resistant hips. "I was wandering around in the middle of a blizzard suffering the wrath of winter, if you didn't notice."

The Scorch Captain curled one of his teeth as he eyeballed the intimidating, obscure canyons ahead. "Trust me, I don't mind if we're walking around all day."

"I do," huffed one of the Dregs with a revulsive growl, his panting lacing with exasperation. "What we could all use is a rest."

Another Dreg agreed with a "Yeah, same here."

Wheeling around to face the patrol, Sorkolis spat, "Listen. This is mandatory to do, so if you want to go back, then I believe you can have a few words with the Kell, if you're interested."

Silence met after that.

One of the Vandals queried, "You and the Kell… you two are close, huh?"

The flush spread across the Archon's cheeks. Sorkolis was glad that his helmet obscured the view from the rest of the Fleet following loyally behind him.

"Um… yea. We're… acquaintances." Sorkolis diverted any further eye contact with the Vandal that had asked the question.

Even though, that guy didn't seem convinced. "Just acquaintances?" he growled. "I'd say you two are something along the lines of 'close friends.'"

The others nodded in agreement.

"T-that is not what it is!" snarled Sorkolis, shamed to think that it was so obvious of the friendship developed between the Kell and her Archon.

Shrugging, the Vandal said, "Sorkolis, you know it's true. We all do."

Again, the patrol showed their opinions with tossed of their brute heads.

"Can we not talk about this?" demanded the Archon, slinging his lower arms together. "Now is not the time."

"Are you shy?" asked the other Fallen Scorch Captain. "You don't have to be," she added.

Sorkolis eyed her as she clung to the heavy weaponry. "No, I'm not. This is just not a necessary time for such a question."

"Whatever you say," sniffed in the Vandal that had asked in the first place.

Growling, the Priest hoped the Kell and him, in conversation, did not occur again. And luckily, it didn't. Although Sorkolis knew they were still curious.

Well, they shall never find out.

The bleating sun was soon covered by a blanket of clouds, much to the Archon's relief, but it was short-lived as a cool swathe of wintery air passed over the unit. Shivering down to full bone, one of the Vandals stepped out from under the shadow arch to get more sunlight, however few of it there was.

Sighing, the group made it all the way to the edge of the rocky alcove, a bunch of stones and things littered all over. Sorkolis nodded to the hole hidden at the top of the rocks.

"It's up there." He pointed with his lower left arm to the opening in the rock face. "That is where I found Tilakis. There are… creatures, in there."

The female Scorch Captain smirked. "Which is why me and Vulgantor are here."

Vulgantor, the other Scorch Captain, nodded. "You can count on us to get the work done."

Sorkolis pressed his hand against his armored temple. "Okay… let's just go in and find out. See what we can find."

"Don't mind if I do," one of the Dregs offered, shoving by the Archon, who didn't stumble but just watched with a sneer.

The others made sure to follow behind the Dreg close enough behind that he did not slip from sight. Foreshadows of the sunshine got lost under a barrier of darkness as the cave walls invited in a bunch of the soldiers. Or else inviting death to them.

Where the previous pool of blood Tilakis had left beyond was what the Dreg ahead stepped on, and he yelped with obvious surprise as he got the thick, red liquid slobbered all over his combat boots.

"It's just blood," the Archon growled huskily. "Pay it no heed."

"I… uh… I wasn't scared. Just…" the Dreg glanced uneasily to his side. "Yelling for a fight."

One of the Scorch Captains uttered a "Teh."

Sorkolis pushed aside the two-armed Dreg as he turned to the rest of the scouting unit and growled, "I will lead the way. If I get injured and cannot walk, run back to the Fleet and tell them that I have been felled."

"We cannot even try to carry you back before the darkness consumes you?" questioned the female Scorch Captain.

"No!" huffed Sorkolis impatiently. "You will run. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a previous silence, the din of reluctance holding prey on the unit, before suddenly they all burst into nods.

"That won't be a problem," one of the other Dregs growled.

The cold Vandal said, "No, it won't be."

"Good," Sorkolis spat. "Now, if you don't mind, follow close behind me so you can get your own visual on these 'creatures.'"

The other Fallen obliged and readied their weapons.

Since the dark hue of black had enveloped the group already, they activated their gas-mask lights to get a better look around. The walls seemed empty like stones, which was usual, but suddenly a scuffle of rocks alerted the group.

Vulgantor let of a rocket from his Scorch Cannon enter the atmosphere as he fired a shot at whatever was the source of movement. The fire had missed, from what it seemed, and was absorbed into the darkness around them.

"Fail," giggled one of the Dregs.

Sorkolis shot the dishonorable thing a look, and that shut it up.

As the unit fell in closer, a little scream of something sounded in the night.

The Dreg that had stepped in the blood yelled in alarm, ducking back beneath a rock. "What was that?"

Vulgantor snorted, slinging his Scorch Cannon over his shoulder. "Sounds like… Crota's Spawn."

"Crota? Who in the name of the Prime Servitors is Crota?"

"How can you not know?" the Scorch Captain asked, disgust written in his tone. "Crota, son of Oryx, lover of Omnigul, father of the almighty Shannu?"

The Dreg tipped his head. "Shannu?"

Sighing, the Scorch Captain continued, "Only one of the strongest Hive Knights known to the House of Kings. He has changed a very many in his society, and the rise of the Hive is due to Shannu."

"I don't get it."

Vulgantor growled, "I guess you never will."

That kept that conversation quiet afterwards.

The Archon looked up and growled, "Do you think this is the Hive? What experience do you have with them?"

The Scorch Captain shrugged. "Plenty. I know this sound. It the sound of a Hive Thrall."

"Thralls?" asked the Dreg. The others ignored him.

Sorkolis trembled to the bone. If the Hive was here, then the Kell, if she did indeed insist on staying permanently, would have a problem.

Repeating the Dreg, the Archon gasped, "T-Thralls?"

"They come in packs," the Scorch Captain female explained. "And they use vicious claws to rip your insides out. Like with what they did to poor Tilakis."

"I know what a Thrall is!" spat Sorkolis.

The female Scorch Captain winced at his harsh tone, her hands trembling as she held firm to her heavy-material, fire-based weapon meant to maim.

"If they are Thralls, we need to head back in the direction of the Fleet and alert the Kell of these tragic news." This was one of the Vandals speaking, their swords drawn as they stared vacantly into the expansive caverns ahead.

Sorkolis butt in quickly, "And we will not split up."

"We didn't plan to, sir," rumbled one of the Dregs drily. "We figured out the case. Now, it is time for us to get back to the rest of the Fleet. There is no more evidence required to prove this is an obvious question."

Letting his unyielding shoulders fall, the Archon finally growled out, "Very well. We shall make haste back to the Fleet. Let's go."

Another Vandal spat darkly, "Wish we'd brought Pikes."

"There weren't enough," added the female Scorch Captain. "We all needed fair means of transportation."

"What happened to the other ones? We had a ton!"

The Scorch Captain responded just as dully, "Most of the Pikes we had were boarded on the Skiffs that were felled over Erde-Balane."

The Vandal raised one of his swords as he quirked, "So they're all gone? Just like that?"

"It would seem so," the female Fallen responded, her head bowed as she sent silent prayers to the felled warriors in the airship battle.

The Vandal growled, "What a waste."

"I can agree."

Sorkolis decided paying the conversation no more heed as he crossed out of the cavern entrance and into the daylight, which had thankfully been restored to Old Russia. The cold atmosphere was now half-melted and dirty, but it was pleasant.

Ribbons and fronds of wintery gales blasted against the cool incline as the Fallen patrol weaved their way back home.

The canyon was soon left behind the group. As the Terrestrial Complex's border slipped into view, the group was now at a formidable pace along the hills. The sky crashed overhead with clouds as the fluffy white balls of gathered water raced one another.

"Tunik! Gahr'n se hyat!" A red-caped figure lunged out of the bush and landed on the ground with a long snarl. Turning, Sorkolis could see a patrol there.

The House of Devils.

The Red-cape bearers.

Fond of Walkers.

Obtainer of the Overlord Servitor, Sepiks Prime.

And here was their disgusting Baroness, Drevis, former Wolves warrior.

All of the members in the group unsheathed their swords as the Fallen warrior perched on the rusted metal car ahead of them. Her own weapons were drawn as well, and she let out a deep, hearty laugh.

Three Shanks, two Vandals, a Captain, and four Dregs slipped out of the shadows behind her, guns pointed at the Kings' heads. The Scorch Captains tightened their grip on the weapons in which they currently were holding.

"What are you doing here?" she spat. "This is Devil Banner."

The Archon stepped forward. "Drevis, Devil Baroness. Stand down, fool. You know it is against the will of the Servitors to attack an Archon. And even if you did, you would never stand a chance against us."

Drevis smirked. "Things had changed, Sorkolis, Archon of King Banner. Devils attack whoever strays into their territory."

"How long have you been here?" demanded the female Scorch Captain, positioning her heavy weapon at the Baroness' head.

"Three days ago. You can say goodbye to that Kell of yours, Sorkolis, Than-re'jak!"

The Kings unleashed their weapons, trembling for the Archon's command for attack, but Sorkolis stayed where he was, though his Shrapnel Launcher was pointed at the group of Devils.

"Devil Kell say King Banner will fall under a sheath of ice and fire. Soon, all on Earth will belong to House of Devils." Drevis readjusted the grip on her swords.

Sorkolis growled. "By the will of Sepiks Prime, do you no longer respect him? It is against the Servitor concept to attack an Archon, and then you will lose and suffer in the hands of Rikantor, the King Kell. The choice is yours."

Drevis growled, "Devils will not stand down without a fight, mongrels. Raise your swords and honorably die, for the rise of Sepiks Prime!"

"Whom you obviously do not respect if you regard him with such a vehement behavior. Has the House of Devils been reduced to helpless Dregs deprived off of desperation?" There was a chuckle among the Kings.

"This," Drevis, the Baroness promised with a snide grin. "Is what Sepiks Prime wants." And with that, she lunged for the Archon.

Ghrr…

Sorkolis barreled beneath the Baroness' sword, and the long weapon embedded itself into the dusty ground as she missed her attack.

The Archon gyrated and lifted his Shrapnel Launcher up to aim upon the female Fallen. Drevis snarled as an igneous bullet grazed her leg, and she dropped one of her swords to clutch the bloody opening with agony.

A Shank brought fire down upon Sorkolis, but he reached down for his knife and inserted it into the hull of the drone, and it exploded upon impact.

Bulleting across the courtyard was the female Scorch Captain, eliminating waves of Dregs and Vandals that got close, their corpses reduced to bloody smears across the waving grasses of the Cosmodrome.

The Devil Baroness snarled as she watched her units being felled before her. She lashed out with the nearest sword and scraped the Archon across the leg, then let out a deep laugh as she pushed herself to her own.

Growling with anger, Sorkolis threw his Shrapnel Launcher down upon Drevis' head, and smiled when a splatter of blood hit the rocks next to her as her cranium was shattered to pieces under the heavy weapon. The Devil Baroness howled with rage, now using her already-bloody hand to clutch her throbbing scalp. Kicking aside the Shrapnel Launcher down into a pit below, Drevis smiled as she approached the King Archon.

Reaching down for his knife with his lower right hand, Sorkolis lunged down at the smaller Fallen warrior and tried to gut her to death, but she countered the attack with her own blade and thrust the Archon off snidely.

Stumbling back into a mess of tripping over his golden cape, Sorkolis landed awkwardly in a few nettles, and he growled as the thorns ripped ghastly daggers down his spine and arms. Sucking up the courage to fight on, the Archon dragged himself out of the bushes and pounced on top of Drevis.

The female warrior gasped in alarm as she was tackled down, capes tangling and bodies wrestling to first get the upper hand on their opponent. Since the Archon was taller, he had it first and he pried one of the Baroness' swords out of her hands.

As she attempted to reclaim that weapon she had lost, the Archon flipped it to his likeliness in his own grip and he stabbed it into her arm, sawing away at armor and flesh.

Gyrating, Drevis kicked off the Archon with a combat boot to the face, and soon enough he fell back with a clatter of armor. However, the sword he had stolen from Drevis was still located in his compressed seizure, and he smiled when she was one electrical sword short.

"You fight well, Archon." Drevis rolled her stiff shoulders and flexed her lithe arms and svelte fingers. "But there is not a chance you will win this fight."

Sorkolis growled and spat, "Drevis! Look around you. The army you harbor falls before your eyes, and you are still too blind to see."

The Baroness snarled as she turned her four eyes to attention with the fight before her. But she was a smart and lethal opponent, and she flitted her gaze back at light speed to ensure Sorkolis would not have a visual she was off-guard.

Narrowing her blue-white eyes, she growled low in her throat. "Very well," she spat coolly. "You have achieved success. But this defeat with be avenged. Remember that." She turned away from the Archon and growled, "Ynna'r chay-tunisk!"

The Vandals, Shanks, and Dregs looked at their leader and began their reluctant retreat, eyes and optics focused on the enemy as they lowered their weapons to a non-threatening stance. Once they were a safe distance away, they turned and sprinted off into the deep, until soon the Kings had no visual on the fleeing opposition.

Sorkolis gyrated and focused back on the distressed frames of the Fleet. Several Dregs and one Vandal had been felled, but both Scorch Captains were intact.

"So," Vulgantor spat. "The House of Devils is here. Those mongrels have come even after we have. And they come looking for trouble. This is something else that the Kell must be alerted of."

The Archon nodded. "Indeed. We are all wounded and are in need of a good rest and some herbal remedies as soon as we return to the Fleet. So, do not waste any footsteps that you take and make good use of your time."

The Scorch Captains and remaining Fallen Vandals and Dregs agreed with a salute, before they all turned and began their jog back to the House of Kings campsite.

As they ran, the weather got better at the least. The cold, icy blasts of winter soon hid themselves in a tangle of burrs, and the sunshine and its dappled rays soon entered through the brightly-lit atmosphere. The presence of Ancient wonders stifled the air and its movements, leaving a feeling of old history upon the group.

This time, they wasted no breath on speech or conversation. They just raced back to the campsite they now were forced to call home, hidden away in the Terrestrial Complex. One of the Dregs had to remove his golden helmet from battle wounds.

By the time they returned, the sun had climaxed its sheathe in the sky and all was starting to descend back towards the Earth. Sixteen guards were at the entrance to the King Banner.

"Sorkolis, King Archon." The Priest waved his hand in a gesture only known to his own House. "Let us pass."

The metal doors to the Refinery were opened by four of the guards, and the patrol was let back in to the campsite. Two of the Kell's Guard, and the Baron, were waiting at the real front, obviously for the return of the unit.

"You're bleeding!" gasped the Baron, running to attend to our lacerations.

The Kell's Guard seemed unimpressed, switching their attenuated blades in their hands, lacking any else to do. Two more of the Guard exited the Kell's Throne room, and they noticed the commotion.

"What happened?" asked the leader of the Guard, a svelte and ravishing Vandal with quite feminine features despite his male nature. His lower arms were slung together, and he featured a nasty scowl on his face as he eyed the patrol.

The female Scorch Captain decided for the group instead, "We were attacked."

Another one of the Guard questioned, "By the creatures?"

"No," the Captain said, her voice hushed. "By the Devil Banner."

One of the Kell's Guard paused, reluctant to speak at first. "Devils? The House of Devils is at the Cosmodrome?"

The Captain nodded. "It would seem so. We ran into the Devil Baroness, Drevis, when we were at the border."

"Drevis…?" the Kell's Guard asked. "The old Winter Baroness. So… she moved over to the House of Devils after the fall of Skolas. This is grave news indeed."

Another of the Guard sanctioned, "I shall alert the Kell."

After he'd spun around and made haste to the metal door behind the unit, the Baron sighed and pressed his head to his temple.

"I'm surprised she would have such dishonor to move so quickly," he growled, his movements subtle as he looked through his vermilion armor and into the eyes of the patrol. "Sepiks Prime approves?"

Sorkolis nodded. "It would seem so." Drawing his eyes away from the Baron, he added huskily, "I am forbidden to say so, against the law of the Overlord Servitors, but… the Kell of the Devils is a mad Fallen warrior."

The Baron agreed, wringing his hands together. "Of course he is, accepting one of Skolas' old Barons. I wonder what goes through Drevis' head, after her lover was taken to the Prison of Elders and made to be the Champion there. He has yet to be felled… but it will happen."

"Of course it will," the Archon agreed. "But that is not important. We have also found out about the creatures in the caverns. They are from the Hive – Thralls, to be exact."

The Baron appeared greatly disturbed. "And the Hive are here? What does Crota have to do with this?"

"Crota, I believe, is still in the dark below, waiting for the Guardians to reach him. Let's hope we do not run into Omnigul or Shannu, her son." Sorkolis looked to the horizon. "Shannu is a powerful warrior, and the King Banner would be felled soon if he were to be there."

The Baron sighed. "You said Thralls, not Shannu."

"If there are Thralls, Shannu will be there, Baron. Trust me on that. Where there are a few of the Hive, there will be many."

Dipping his head, the Baron just acknowledged that then turned away to subside to the deep within, to one of the more vital points in the Refinery. After that, he turned to the rest of the patrol, left of a one Dreg, three Vandals, and the Scorch Captains, and growled.

"Let us go notify the Kell of our finds."

The rest of the patrol agreed, then started making their way to the metal door. This time, only one of the Guard were outside, flipping his blades with unease. The Vandal flitted his eyes up when he saw the unit coming in, and he growled low in his chest. "You come for an audience with the Kell?" he demanded.

Vulgantor nodded. "Yes, sir. At the authority of you, please let us in."

The Vandal scowled, then shoved the metal door open with his two left fists, revealing the dimly-lit chamber once more.

The Kell spoke, "Ah, Sorkolis. The Guard informed me that the Devil Banner is in Old Russia."

"They are," growled the Archon. "But we also found out about the creatures that killed off Tilakis. It is the Hive. They are here."

Ahead of them, Rikantor winced, her fingers twitching on her Throne arms. "That is unfortunate. It seems that we will have to keep an eye for Omnigul and her son, Shannu. We shall rise the amount of patrol units we will have."

One of the three Guard asked, "Is that wise? We may be jumped by more of the Devils."

There was a reluctant pause from the Kell. "Send in the Walkers."

"Walkers?" asked Vulgantor. "That is an intense move. We have only three more Walkers we can spare. The rest were picked off above Erde-Balane."

"Send them in anyway," growled Rikantor. "Do as I say." She turned to look at the Archon. "I know you will do this for me." Her teeth were bared, her helmet gleaming maliciously in the low lighting.

Sorkolis dipped his head. "Of course I will, my liege. I would jump into the pits of the Moon and battle Crota for you alone if you requested me to do so."

No one seemed to notice the glimmer of red that leniently passed over the Kell's ravishing face.

"So," began one of the Kell's Guard. "More Walkers, more patrols, more everything. More Pikes, more soldiers…" The Vandal nodded. "I will see to it, my liege."

As he left, the Scorch Captain female bowed her head and growled out, "So what of the Hive? Shall we flush them out of their territory and beat them to the ground like the cur they are?"

The Kell shook her head. "No, that is unwise," she spat. "What we will need to do is think of a strategy and use it unpredictably."

"Very well," the Scorch Captain conceded. "I shall permit a rally group and will attend to a battle plan." After those few words, she dismissed herself, along with Vulgantor, and slipped from view.

Another one of the Kell's Guard agreed and rasped, "I shall go see what permissions she has to offer for that."

Soon, the only Fallen there were two of the Kell's Guard, one Dreg, two Vandals, Sorkolis, and the Kell, who was tapping her fingers impatiently. She seemed bothered, as if the Cosmodrome was not such a good location after all.

"Well," the Kell started, her svelte arms accompanied with rivulets of feathering muscles. "I suppose I should take a look about this later. Sorkolis, are you sure it was the Hive? Did you see the Thralls?"

The Archon shuffled. "We did not visually see them, but there were a lot, and Thralls hunt in packs. Also, to add on to the evidence, they had screams like those bastards..."

Rikantor snorted, her eyes flittering. "I suppose that is enough to know," she growled, readjusting the linen cape in her fingers. "Can you bring to me the place the Devils showed up?"

Snarling, the Kell's Guard spat, "But my liege–!"

"Enough!" Rikantor found her eyes back on the Archon, an invisible smile on her face. "The Archon Priest will be quick to take care of me."

"I insist, leaving only Sorkolis for your care is absurd!"

The Kell growled low in her throat. "He is stronger than most. I trust in my heart that he will get the job done. However, we will be walking."

Sorkolis, knowing he had better company, was more than obliged to walk back to the site where he'd found Drevis.

"First, however, he shall be treated with herbal remedies that will soothe his aches. Come with me, Sorkolis. My Guard, you will take command of the Fleet when I am gone."

The Vandals that served as the bodyguards for the Kell were more than happy to take over, and the two remaining ones shuffled into the hallway as the command was given.

"Let's go," the Kell offered, brushing past Sorkolis.

The Archon followed her into the winding halls of the Refinery, until they stopped at the area where the newcomer Vandals had been housed, the warriors that have survived the battle above Erde-Balane.

Rikantor nodded to the Medics. "They will mend your wounds," she breathed, slinging both pairs of arms together. "See to them, and return to me when you are ready to leave."

---

"You know, I wasn't actually expecting you to get the role, my liege. I mean, this is a great opportunity for you."

The Kell and her followed were on their way down to the border. A slight rain had fallen over the two, soaking their golden capes to sponges. But the two did not care, just walking peacefully beside one another in harmony.

Smiling, the Kell growled, "Rikantor is okay when we're alone, Sorkolis."

"Just this one last time, my liege."

This time, Rikantor just shook her head and her beautiful golden helmet, her eyes scanning the ribbons of landscape unfolding before them. "Did the remedies work?" she asked.

The Archon nodded his head. "Yes, they did."

"Good," announced the Kell, jumping over a bunch of rocks and shards that were in the way. She leapt over a bunch of stones and gracefully landed on the other side. She gyrated to watch Sorkolis repeat her action, but laughed when she saw him hit the ground.

The Archon had red flicker over his cheeks and he yelled, "We aren't all as big as you."

"You're right," the Kell teased, hobbling down the path. "You're bigger than me."

Scrambling to his legs, the Archon followed the Kell down the winding spiral of stones, rocks, and sticks.

Rikantor looked over her shoulder and laughed, "We are almost there, right? The rain is picking up and I'd like to get home before dark. So stop joking around and just keep moving on towards our destination."

After that the two Fallen warriors kept going on their way. They heard the tough crashes of the ocean winding up on the rocks of the coast. A peaceful silence overwhelmed the two as they continued. The hum of birds overhead yielded the drum of the wind on the Kell and the Archon, leaving a fine ray of late sunset shine over the soldiers.

"So," asked the Archon as he picked his way around a bunch of nettles, remembering that that was what he'd fallen into when he was battling Drevis. "Did you believe you were going to move up to the Kell of the King Banner?"

The Kell paused. "No, not at first. But the Servitors gave me the Ethic light I needed to be one of such an authority, and here I now am. Do… do you think I'm doing a good job with the whole operation?"

Sorkolis nodded. "You have picked a fine place for the King Banner to reside, despite the obstacles, but every perfect location has things you must overcome. That is just the way of nature, I'm afraid. The decisions you make – everything is just fine."

"I sure hope so," murmured the Kell as she looked up at the stars. "Sometimes, I look up to the Servitor ancestors and wonder if this is the destiny they had laid out for me. I really believe that this is a… burden, more than an honor. The questions that you need to decide… I wish I was a Baroness again."

The Archon purred with sympathy, "You do not. Having the honor to stay close to all of your warriors is more an honor than that of a burden. Sometimes, I get confused with what you say, my liege." The two walked on. "This is the perfect role for you."

The Kell looked up at her loyal follower. "I said sometimes, did I not? The responsibility of a Kell is far greater than that of a Baroness. It can get… frustrating, sometimes, the things that a Kell has to answer. And being a female does not help. Other Houses think I am not fit for such a role."

"No!" growled Sorkolis as he gazed at his leader. "You are more perfect than them. I believe that you have never been more proud or graceful. Ever since I first met you, I knew that you would be something great."

"Don't say that," demanded Rikantor, her upper arms fixed over the helm of her Shrapnel Launcher. "You know it's not true, stop trying to flatter me."

The Archon shook his head. "I am not trying to flatter you, I simply speak the truth. You were always to be something greater than any other Kell. You are the true prophet of the King Banner."

"I'm not," Rikantor snorted, but an invisible smile crept on her face. "But thanks." She leniently brushed aside two plants that were in her way, her blue-white eyes fixed on the horizon overhead. "Is this the clearing?"

Sorkolis took a quick scour of the arena. "Yes, this is it," he said, remembering the battle that had taken place a few brief hours before. "Drevis said she was here with her team for a mere three days. They came after the King Banner was already raised here. Luckily, we flushed them out of our territory."

"Hmm…" the Kell looked out across the courtyard, her eyes scanning the debris and rubble around her. "This is odd," she growled. "Why does everything have to follow us? Did the Devils even know we were here? I find it suspicious that they did not."

Sorkolis shook his head. "I don't believe so. Drevis seemed confused when me and the patrol unit were confronting her. I think she was just as much surprised to catch us here as we were to find her."

Rikantor shook her might head. "How did she even get into the Devils?" she asked. "She was working for her mate, Skolas, and she easily betrayed him with Sepiks Prime. What did that Servitor promise for her? That Skolas was to get out of his imprisonment with the Queen of the Reef?"

"Mayhap," issued the Archon as he scanned the clearing. "Skolas is under some pretty fine containment, if you asked me. The chances of him escaping the Prison of Elders is a very slim chance indeed. In fact, I doubt anyone has ever escaped the Prison."

The Kell tilted her head. "No one? I guess they would never make it out of the Reef, then, even if they did. Variks would find them. Skolas would be no different, despite his rage and madness."

"So, I wonder what did bring Drevis to the decision to betraying her lover. Was Skolas ensured a way out of the Prison of Elders, or is that ugly Wolf Baroness trying to rally up a troop of Fallen warriors so she can raid the Reef and get Skolas out while he still has little sanity left?"

"I wouldn't know," growled the Kell as she drew her eyes out across the border. "Anyway, not important. Did she say that this was Devils land?"

The Archon nodded. "She did," he promised.

"Then their camp must be by here, then," spat the Kell. "I'm sure it will be a lot of fun to raid it with Walkers."

Sorkolis tipped his head awkwardly. "Are you sure the Devils do not have a bunch of Walkers, either?" he asked.

The Kell shrugged. "I'm sure they do, but we can attack them with surprise. We were here at the Cosmodrome first, and I intend to keep it before the Devils can flush us out of it. Do you not agree with me?"

"Of course I do," the Archon promised. "Why would you think I not? I only intend the best for the House of Kings, and if I have to risk my life doing that, then so be it."

Rikantor smiled and growled, "Why thank you. I really think that that is nice of you. So what do you think of the Hive's presence in our lands?"

Sorkolis paused and gave his heftier shoulders a shrug. "I have to be honest, I think very little of it. I am more worried of that outcome that having that here would bring. What about your safety here? Surely Crota would try to kill you and Devil Kell if he had the chance to?"

"I'm sure he would, and he can try." The Kell bared her teeth. "Not even Shannu would be able to stop me. I won't let anyone get in the way of the Kings Banner from rising in the windy breeze of Old Russia. Do you think I am stupid?"

"N-no!" yelped the Archon as he looked out across the frosted land of the Cosmodrome. "I just want you to be… safe. That is all."

The Kell looked down. "Hmm." She stared across the land as well; the rain beat down harder on the ground as the two Fallen stood there. "We should go back," she decided. "I think our work here is done. Come on, let's go."

As the two Fallen started to walk back, beams and flickers of electricity thundered in the sky overhead; the rain started to fall even harder down on them. Soon, their capes did not twinkle with a dull color of the golden Kings Banner, but instead looked and appeared more muddy brown in hue. The Kell pulled back on her own adornments and sighed as she peered at it.

"This is ridiculous," she joked. "I must look silly." Running a hand through the linen, she wrinkled her face in disgust as she eyed the long cloak.

"You look fine," growled the Archon, showing her his own ratted cape. "Just stop whining and let's get back to the Fleet, before they think the House of Devils captured us or something."

The Kell rolled her invisible pupils. "Because I did promise the Guard you would take care of me," she spat. "So, that is the case, and I need you to get me back safely without the constant threat of me getting reprimanded by my own servants." The taller, lithe warrior pressed her hands against her temples and shook her head.

"Of course I'd get you back safely," the Archon promised.

The Kell lifted one of her eye ridges. "Would you?" she asked, a quirk to her vocalization.

"Sure. You can always count on me to get the job done. Why would your Guard even think that I could not look after my own Kell? What a ridiculous Archon I must be."

"Now you sound like me," the Kell laughed. "Trust me, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The only thing that you need to worry about is keeping me safe. Which counts right about now, by the way."

Sorkolis readjusted his uncomfortable gas-mask and he snorted. "My only concern?" he questioned. "I cannot even keep my eyes out for the Hive, another House, or even Guardians?"

"Protect me from them," the Kell said, her eyes twinkling. "That is the job from all of the Fleet. Do not seem to think you have an exception." Through the rain, she looked up into the sky and sighed, her fingers twitching.

The Archon just simply smiled a little bit. "Why would I have an exception?" he demanded. "I am just another warrior in your Fleet. Now, you said you wanted to get home, so no more chatter from you."

The Kell crossed her arms together. "Are you really telling me what to do, Sorkolis?" she demanded. "Have you forgotten who is the Kell here?"

"I thought you'd said you wanted to be a Baroness," teased the Archon.

"Doesn't mean I am one!" countered the leader of the King Banner.

Sorkolis eyed the Kell up-and-down. "Very well then, Rikantor."

The peaceful silence again overtook the two Fallen as they made their way on through the night. The sun had already slipped down from its hold in the sky and the darkness had come. Suddenly, the Archon stopped and frowned at three little specks moving in a line along the mountains.

Grabbing ahold of the Kell's hand with his own, the Archon growled, "Let's go!"

Seeming confused, the leader of the King Banner asked, "Why? What's wrong?"

The Archon spat, "Guardians."

Apparently, the humans had seen them as well, for a single shot was fired into the air towards the two Fallen.