8.
"Nia."
Nia groaned, opening her eyes, blinking against the light flooding into them. She recognized where she was almost immediately. The willow tree, the tranquil pond, the fields of verdant green, the small cabin in the distance, smoke pouring lazily from the chimney.
This...this was a dream. Unlike last time, nobody else was here – not even Dromarch by her side. She was here alone. Alone, that is, except for…
She scrambled back in panic as she looked to her right, only to see Pyra there, looking down at her. She clawed her way to her feet, hands instinctively going for weapons that weren't there.
Pyra looked at her, sadly. "I'm not here to fight, Nia."
"Then what are you here for?" the girl snapped irritably. She didn't like Pyra being here. This place, in her dreams, it made her feel...comfortable, safe. She didn't like the harsh reality of outside disasters intruding into her dreams. It was like she couldn't expect to get some comfort, even there. "How do you get here, by the way?"
Pyra ignored this last question. She stepped forward, eyes down on the ground. "I...I wanted to say...I'm sorry for what happened to your friend," she whispered, miserably. "You...must think I'm so awful. I've...stood by as someone killed Rex, and I know how you feel about him. Now I've stood by as I killed someone else you love."
Nia was too furious to be embarrassed by Pyra's comments about Rex. "You're damn bloody right, I think you're awful," she hissed. "You didn't just 'stand by', Pyra, you...transformed into that lady, and killed him yourself!"
Pyra shook her head, still staring down at the ground in shame. "You don't understand. I...was worried what Malos would do to Jin, and Mythra….she's not me. I'm...derived from parts of her personality, but we're separate people. But...you're right. In panic, I called upon her. I just..." Pyra looked up at her, tears welling in her eyes. "I couldn't let Jin get hurt. I couldn't let Malos...you don't know how much it hurts when Malos uses his power. I...I struggle against it so much, but I...love Jin. I don't even know in what way, I just know I do. I couldn't let him just die before my eyes. Please. Try to understand."
Nia's fangs were bared, and she was choking back rage. But...despite herself, she felt a certain degree of sympathy for Pyra. Even, deep down, a flicker of admiration. Pyra knew who she loved, and did whatever it took to defend them. That...there was something there to appreciate. Something there that Nia wished she had the strength to do.
Finally, she crossed her arms, looking away from Pyra. It was no use fighting her. This was all a dream, anyway. Not like anything she could do here would actually get any justice for Vandham. "Damn it, Pyra, I can't ever forgive you," she said, angry at herself for the sadness in her voice. "Never, never." She thought of Vandham's smiling face. Of Iona's weeping. Of Vandham's wife, her rage and grief. Of Rex, and the utter devastation on his face when he had realized Vandham was gone, when he realized the man he had admired so much would never come back. "Never," she whispered.
"That's fine." Pyra shook her head, smiling through tears. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I'm...a monster. For what I've done in the past."
"Not just your damn past!" Nia shouted, glaring at her again. "Malos...he told us what your plan was. Did you think he'd keep it to himself? You damn lunatic, ending the world?" And now Nia was fighting back tears. She had loved Pyra, in the short time she had been with her. "How could you? How could you believe these things…?"
Pyra clutched her hand to her core crystal. "If you understood...if you could see what I see...maybe you'd understand. If I'm a monster, maybe I'm the monster the world needs. If that's the way it has to be...Malos isn't innocent either, Nia." Pyra's eyes flicked up to her. "Do you think...if he was given the chance to kill me by sacrificing Rex...that he'd hesitate for a moment?"
Nia's heart froze, and her blood ran cold.
"He...I'm sorry for him. Father didn't build him for understanding this world. He...just doesn't understand what it means to love, to cherish, to bond with someone. It's not his fault. Father...built him for confronting some of the ugliest and most terrible aspects of reality. Not for living with humans. But it makes him a monster all the same."
Nia wasn't sure what to think. Malos...could be a real bastard, yeah. An asshole, sometimes, even. But...it didn't seem quite right, what Pyra was saying. As much of a sarcastic ass as Malos could be...Nia thought he did care, in his own strange way, for Rex. And...even for her, maybe. His no-nonsense attitude, his sarcastic quips...they had grown on her. And...he had been there, in her lowest moments, and his frank honesty...had been nice. Refreshing. Malos...would never treat her with pity, and would always give her his honest opinion, and that was...nice, in a way.
"I don't necessarily want to end the world," Pyra whispered, when Nia didn't answer. "I..."
"Shut it, Pyra," Nia interrupted. "I...don't want to hear about it now." She shook her head. It twisted in her like a knife, to hear Pyra saying such ugly things. She...couldn't bear to listen to any more just now. It hurt too much. She didn't fear the words themselves, but she feared...how they might sink into her. Just how much she might find sane, in what Pyra had to say, at this particular moment.
When she had run off, barely under her own control...talking to Morag...Nia didn't want to feel like that anymore. She didn't want to feel the overwhelming, complete hurt and despair she had felt. Not just then, but at so many times ever since her father had died. She had thought of herself as strong for fending it off...but she had begun to realize that she just couldn't keep it up forever. Something needed to change. For the first time in a long time, being with the group...with Rex, Morag, Tora, everyone, hell, even Malos...she had people caring for her. Healthy, sane people. People who cheered her up...worried about her...people who made her happy. And it had made her realize that she was just sick, sick of feeling the way she had felt. She didn't want Pyra's darkness clawing its way into her head and making it worse.
Pyra, for her part, shut her mouth immediately. She sighed, walking forward, sitting down at the base of the tree, drawing up her knees to her chest. She looked out into the distance, across the peaceful, idyllic green fields, graze waving in the gentle breeze, her eyes tired. "I came here," she said, finally, "Because I wanted to warn you."
"Warn me?" Nia put her hands on her hips. "About what?"
Pyra was quiet for a long time. "I told you...Mythra isn't me," she said, finally. "I...come from part of her, but...we don't share the same opinions on everything. She...feels the same kind of guilt I do, for what she did so long ago. But..."
"What is it?" Nia said, after Pyra had remained silent for a long time. She stepped closer when Pyra didn't answer. "What? Spit it out."
"I'm afraid of what she might do," Pyra said quietly. "She's...seen the same thing I have. Five centuries of history, up close...she was...asleep for so much, but all of it, hitting her all at once..." She looked up at Nia, and suddenly grabbed her hand. "Would you like to see what I have seen…? What she's seen…?"
And suddenly Nia was no longer in the middle of the green field, the cabin faded away, the trees, everything faded away, and before her was an awful deluge of imagery, wars, wars, wars, endless wars, fields of dead, children screaming for parents that would never come home, blades begging wounded drivers to not die, great awful vehicles, killing machines, flame and horror, and great huge monstrosities, abominations built out of entire countries, pouring forth soldiers and flame and horror, and rising slowly through the centuries, more and more common in the wars, rising like a great unstoppable devil of history was Mor Ardain, no, the Clockwork Demon, black metal, eyes of flame, and from its mouth poured a million soldiers, a thousand fleets of airships, rising above the tide of flame and blood, and its body was a billion ticking gears of chaotic madness, and it could not be stopped, it would never stop, it would never, ever stop-
Nia awoke with a shriek, heart hammering in her chest. Adrenaline poured through her veins.
Shaking, she got up and walked to the window. They were still staying at the inn in Uraya. It was...either very late at night, or very early in the morning. Pale moonlight softly filtered through Uraya's hide, gently illuminating the silent streets of Fonsa Myma. One of her hands went to her forehead. What...she had seen, it was...she felt her thoughts growing fuzzy and dark again. Damn it, no, no, not this, she wanted to escape this, she wanted to escape it so badly…
Suddenly, she felt an insistent tugging at her wrist. She looked down to see Dromarch, taking her wrist in his hand. "Wha...what is it?" she murmured groggily.
"Back to bed," he replied softly. "Come, my lady."
"Oh...Dromarch, I couldn't sleep right now..."
"It was not a request."
Dromarch pulled Nia, protesting weakly, back to her bed. He insistently headbutted her until she laid back down, and when she did, he leaped onto the bed with her, curling up, half on top of her, half off. He was….warm, comfortable, and the gentle weight of him on top of her was nice, like a heavy, thick blanket.
"Dromarch," she yawned. "I've had the worst dream, I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep..."
Twenty minutes later, she was snoring.
9.
Rex sighed, leaning back against one of Gramps' arms, sitting along a beach, watching the rosy drawn rise above the Cloud Sea, lost in thought.
Today was the day they were leaving Uraya. Morag had come into contact with some of the Ardainian spy houses in Fonsa Myma, and sent word on ahead to Mor Ardain that they would be arriving. She had said it was a necessity – with the war on, Mor Ardain's policy was to shoot down any unidentified ships or Titans that came close. If Gramps was going to bring them there, they needed prior warning. Rex had woken up early to come out to the spot they had agreed to depart from, a small beach leading out to the cloud sea, accessible from a narrow cliff path leading from the peak of Fonsa Myma.
To be honest with himself, Rex was feeling...a little intimidated by the idea of going to Mor Ardain. He had seen the propaganda almost his entire life – almost every country was paranoid about the idea of Mor Ardain, afraid of invasion by them. The large, humanoid colossus that was the Ardainian homeland, styled as a towering monstrosity of interlocking gears. The Clockwork Demon. Rex had never really bought into the rhetoric as much as other people. As a salvager, he had worked with Ardainians, even Ardainian soldiers, and while the most recent war had made them….aggressive, they seemed like normal people. Good people, even. Morag was Ardainian, after all. And yet…
The idea of gong to the beating heart of the Empire that so many feared, that had engaged in such brutal wars of conquest in the past...well, maybe there was a way to stop the current one. Morag certainly seemed to think that there might be. She kept quiet much of the time, and often kept her thoughts to herself, but...Rex had known how much she had respected to Vandham. How much she had come to respect his country. He didn't know what she could do herself, but it was worth giving things a try.
He looked down at the sand in front of him. There lay two core crystals, nestled into the sand. The core crystal of the monstrous blade that they had fought, so long ago, and Roc's core crystal. Rex had tried giving Roc's crystal to Yew – if anyone should have it, he felt like maybe Vandham's right-hand man should – but the mercenary had refused.
"I want to forget this part of my life for now," he had told Rex, backpack slung over his shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips, as he had stood on the Fonsa Myma docks, eyes on the horizon, waiting for his ship. "Roc would just bring back too many bad memories. You keep him. Maybe you'll get more use out of him."
And then he had flicked his cigarette away, and that had been the last Rex had ever seen of Yew, waving a sad goodbye over his shoulder, not looking back.
Rex sighed as he poked at the core crystals, turning them over in the sand. There was no inner light, no vibrant blue glow to them, as he had seen with other active crystals – merely a dull, cloudy grayness, the interior of the crystal looking somewhat like an overcast sky. Roc's crystal, he might expect that it would take a bit longer to become active again. But the other crystal – Rex hadn't thought about it for a while, but he had asked around how long it normally took for a crystal to become active again after its driver had died, and it had already been months longer than that. Why wouldn't the crystal wake up? Maybe that one was...simply broken?
He shrugged, putting the crystals back in his back, then leaned back and closed his eyes, resting his head against Gramps' rocky hide.
"Are you feeling alright, Rex?"
Rex opened one of his eyes, looking up at the Titan's giant face, craning over him, lantern-yellow eyes staring at him with concern. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he replied. He crossed is arms, staring sharply into the distance, where the beach faded into a thick forest. "Just thinking, you know. Vandham was...the first person who died on our way to Elysium. I...really don't want there to be any more."
"Well." The Titan swung his head around to stare back out at the endless expanse of the Cloud Sea. "You can always...take precautions, and do your best to prevent it. But you can't control everything."
"Yeah, but am I taking the right precautions…? Two times we've gone up against Pyra and Jin, now. First time, you nearly died. Second time, Vandham….Vandham did die." Rex scrubbed tears from his eyes with the back of his arm, quickly, so Gramps wouldn't notice. "Maybe it was a bit arrogant to think we could take them by surprise. Next time, we gotta go in more prepared."
Gramps was silent for a long moment. "You know, you aren't….solely responsible for everything, right, Rex?"
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone who's with you...Nia, Morag, Tora, they all chose to be there with you. They chose to be on this...quest for Elysium. And you listen to them, don't you?"
Rex hummed a little to himself, frowning. "Yeah. Of course. It would be stupid not to, they know so much more than I do. But in the end, it's...my quest, yeah? I set them all on this course. Tora and Morag, they chose to come along on their own, but Nia...I went out of my way to convince her. The buck has stop somewhere, yeah? In the end...I'm the one responsible for how this all turns out."
Gramps adjusted himself, with a sound like boulders grinding together, curling his neck around Rex to lay his head beside the boy in the sand. "Don't….necessarily think of it like that. After all, you wouldn't force anyone to be with you that didn't want to be there, right? There's just too much going on here, too much that you don't know about, for you to have to feel like you're responsible for everything. I know you're dead-set on Elysium, but you're still young, Rex." He paused, frowning. "Don't feel responsible for more than you actually are."
Rex didn't answer. He merely glanced at Gramps, face unreadable, remaining silent.
He glanced up the beach up the winding cliff path he had taken to get down here. He saw movement along it, like a drifting shadow or patch of smoke. It was Malos. He rose to his feet as his blade approached him. He was...a bit embarrassed around Malos, lately. Vandham's death had hit him hard, and...Rex felt like maybe he had showed a bit more weakness in front of Malos than he should have. Malos was clearly, more than anything, a soldier, a warrior – he wasn't letting death get to him that much, and...Rex was a little humiliated that he had let Malos see how much it had hurt him. He couldn't help it, of course. Thank the Architect for Nia, who...he was always comfortable to be honest around. Ah, maybe he shouldn't have let her see him cry either. Maybe he was just a big crybaby in general.
"Hey, Malos," he called out, waving his hand. Malos cocked one eyebrow at him as he approached. Rex couldn't help but read some sort of disapproval into that silence. He had let Vandham die, he had failed to avenge him, he had been a huge crybaby afterward...there was no use in moping about it. He just had to push through, no matter how Malos was disappointed in him. He'd just have to show that he could be better in the future.
"I wanted to ask you something," Rex continued, as Malos got closer. "During...that fight. I saw you do stuff you've never done before. And when I channeled your power...it felt...much more...uh...powerful." He scratched the back of his head. "Did...something change?"
Malos crossed his arms, kicking back and leaning up against Gramps' side. He closed his eyes. "I told you before, I was damaged, right?" His hand went to his core crystal, purple and dark, inlaid in his chest armor. "In my fight against Mythra. Well, since we're both Aegis cores, we hold in each other the blueprints, the necessary material, to reconstruct one another. See, normally my core would be able to regenerate from some damage on its own." His eyes snapped open, gray and sharp, looking off into the distance. "But the damage I took was deep enough to take out my crystal's self-repair. Repairing it takes a lot of energy, information, and material. Pyra has all three. So I was able to get my hands on her, and repair myself a bit during the fight."
"Oh." Rex frowned, scratching his chin. "So are you all healed up then? Back to full power?"
"No. But I'm better off than I was. So we should test out just what my new limits are." Malos finally smiled at him, and Rex felt a little bit of relief. "I...know there's some things now I'm capable of that...well, let's just say we should ease you into them."
"Right." Rex pounded one of his fists into the other. "But I want to learn as much as possible, as fast as possible. I don't want any more...tragedies. I need to know how best to work with you so that we can win fights in the future, yeah?"
Malos glanced down at him, silently considering. "You know...the last part of the battle, when you were trying to take out Mythra by blowing up huge chunks of the Cloud Sea like a dumbass..."
Rex blushed. "Uh, yeah."
"You...were channeling my power even though I was trying to cut you off." Malos shook his head. "Channeling my power...without me having any control over it."
"Was I?" Rex shrugged. "I ah...guess I didn't realize."
Malos gave him a hard, intense stare, gray eyes like unforgiving steel. "Nobody has ever been able to do that. I didn't even think it was possible."
Rex began to sweat a bit beneath that gaze. "Heh...sorry? I mean, I really didn't even know what was happening. I was just so angry at Mythra, I just wanted to destroy her."
Malos stared at Rex for a long moment. This kid...he had been a bit wary of Rex ever since the fight. It disturbed him that Rex had been able to take advantage of his power without his...permission. And it had made him...well, a bit suspicious. Was Rex...hiding things from him? Was he more than he seemed on the surface?
But, well...the damn kid was just so innocent. Staring up at him, nervous, a little frightened...but utterly ignorant. Rex was almost certainly more than what he seemed on the surface, but whatever it was, he was as ignorant of it as Malos was. Finally, Malos relaxed. He unfolded his arms, smirking a bit, and Rex relaxed as well, giving him a beaming grin. The kid had his charms, that was for sure. It wasn't much wonder that Nia had such a crush on him.
Slowly, other members of the party made their way down to the beach. Tora, for once, was not the last to arrive. He came down the path riding on Poppi's shoulders, delicately balancing a notebook and a wrench as he worked on her even as she walked. The little nopon seemed to be much more enthusiastic, as of late, of making improvements and upgrades to Poppi.
Morag and Brighid came down next. Brighid had discarded her disguise – a risky move, but the beach was fairly isolated, and they'd be leaving soon enough. Morag was wearing her pants and white blouse. "Honestly, can't wait to get back into uniform once we're in Mor Ardain," she commented.
It was Nia who came down the cliff path last. Rex glanced at her in concern. She normally woke up earlier than most. But now here she was, late midmorning...her eyes with dark circles beneath them, and she seemed a bit pale. She rode on Dromarch's back, somewhat...limply, looking as if her limbs just didn't have strength in them.
"You alright, Nia? You look terrible," he commented, as she drew close.
She glared at him. "Oh. Well, thank you Rex. You look like shit today too," she snapped.
"You know what I mean." Rex crossed his arms. "You look...sick. Like you had a bad night."
Nia looked up at him, and was quiet for a moment. Should she tell Rex about the dream…? It had happened before, and...why was she even considering this? Why the hell did she feel like she needed to hide it from him? She knew Rex trusted her. She knew he'd believe her if she told him about the dream with Pyra, even if it sounded crazy. So why did her stupid brain insist that telling him was an awful idea? Why did the idea of telling him make her anxious? Was it really just long years of hiding and secret keeping that made her feel like she had to keep everything to herself? And if...Pyra was coming to her in her dreams, shouldn't it be something Rex should know about?
She resolved to herself that she would tell him during the ship ride over to Mor Ardain. "I'll...tell you later, yeah?" she replied quietly.
And finally, it was time to leave. Everyone slowly clambered onto Gramps' back. Rex turned and took one last look at Uraya, the land that had been their home for the past few months. The verdant, pastel forests stretching out into the distance. The towering cliffs, tangled with bioluminescent fungus. The friendly, hospitable buildings of Fonsa Myma. He had been here for so long, and still only felt like he had seen a small fraction of it.
"I'd like to come back," Morag said, beside him. Rex glanced up at her. "In...friendlier times. Uraya really is a place of such immense natural beauty." She smiled, wryly. "I have to admit, it has one up on Mor Ardain, there."
"I'd like to come back too," Rex replied. "Got...a lot of nice memories, here." He smiled to himself. He really did. Vandham might have died here, but he had also lived, and Rex would never forget his friendship, or all the time they had spent together in Vandham's homeland. "Some day, I will."
10.
The journey to Mor Ardain would not be a long one. These days, wherever Uraya was, Mor Ardain would not be far behind.
"Mor Ardain developed a way to control its Titan," Morag explained as they set off, a brisk breeze whipping through her hair as they began their journey across the Cloud Sea. "Years of research and huge excavation projects to drill through its hide and manipulate its nervous system to give som rudimentary control over its movements. It was...controversial, at first, from what I understand. Many people were worried that such a project would cause too much damage to the Titan, cause it to sink faster. But it's been completed and running for almost a century now."
"Huh, impressive." Nia was leaned back against the base of Gramps' neck, Dromarch purring halfway in her lap. "Leave it to Mor Ardain to be on the cutting edge of technology."
Morag shrugged. "It's actually not that impressive. Indol has a way to control their Titan as well, although I'm not sure how they do it. It's assumed that Tantal can do the same, and Gormotti have rumored Titan-whisperers that can supposedly control theirs, as well. Uraya is actually one of the few Titans where it's definitively known their government has no control over its movements."
Because of the war, the Ardainian government had its Titan constantly tracking the movements of Uraya, following, never far behind – not close enough to be visible from Uraya's shores, but close enough so that if an...invasion was decided upon, forces could be deployed quickly from the Titan itself.
Morag and Brighid watched quietly as Nia sat next to Rex, her side pressed against his, Dromarch curled around her, the two youngsters talking intently with each other. Both the older driver and her blade worried immensely about the young Gormotti. Morag's eyebrow arched as she watched a blush come to Nia's cheeks as Rex smiled at her. "I sure hope Rex treats her well," she murmured.
"Hmmm." Brighid pondered. "I wouldn't worry so much about that. Rex seems like the good type. Did you know he's asked me for dancing lessons? I think he wants to impress her."
Morag gave her blade a sidelong dance. "I've seen some of those dances you do. They can get...a little racy."
"Don't worry, lady Morag. I won't be teaching Rex to do the Gormotti fertility tango with Nia. A few simple waltzes, I assure you."
Morag chuckled softly in response, then looked out towards the horizon. It wouldn't be long, now before the towering figure of Mor Ardain's Titan was visible through the fog.
"Glad to be going home?" Brighid asked softly.
"Worried." Morag shook her head. "I've talked to Cole a bit. I knew things had gotten….bad, since the war started. But it sounds like they're much worse now." She glanced over at Malos. The Aegis was watching Tora disassemble one of Poppi's arms idly, attempting to smoke another cigarette. "Speaking of which. We really ought to give the Aegis a disguise if we're going to be in the middle of Mor Ardain. I've no doubt that there are others there who might try to capture him. At the very least, cover up his core crystal."
"Oh good! Maybe we can put him in a tiny dress," Brighid said, smirking slightly.
It wasn't long before the lumbering, humongous figure of the Ardainian Titan appeared, a colossal shadow on the horizon, waist-deep in the Cloud Sea. Peculiarly humanoid in shape, except for the long series of tentacles that ran down from its back, like a cape. It was missing its left arm, and as they drew closer, they could see that its skin – Mor Ardain's terrain – was cracked, sandy, scoured, with bright spots of flowing, pulsing lava visible within. Many parts of its body were covered with black crenellations – buildings, and towns, of the Ardainian Empire, Rex realized as they drew closer. Smoke poured from a thousand smokestacks hidden within these little obsidian settlements, causing the Ardainian titan to trail a thick cloud of smog as it walked through the Cloud Sea. And around its head, like a crown, floated dozens, if not hundreds, of Ardainian Titan airships, and the Cloud Sea surrounding its waist was circled by hundreds of ships from the Ardainian navy, some small, just a dot on the horizon, others huge, glittering, black war machines, battleships loaded up with racks and racks of guns. It was no wonder so many people feared Mor Ardain. Just half of those ships and airships was more than most other countries had at their disposal, and these were just a portion of the Empire's forces – they had other outposts all over the world.
The Ardainian Titan itself walked with a heavy, limping gait, somewhat hunched over, each of its heavy, slow, ponderous footsteps almost looking as if they hurt it. It really wouldn't be much longer now before the Ardainian Titan died and went under. Rex tried not to think about where all those warships would go before that happened.
It was the capital city of Alba Cavanich, seat of the Empire's government, that they wanted to visit, and that was built. appropriately, up by the head, decorating one of the Ardainian Titan's shoulders. As Gramps drew near to the Titan, he raised his wings, and with a mighty push, beating them against the cloud sea, sending the fog spiralling in wild eddies and chaotic currents around him, he lifted off. On his back, the party clung to him as he began a bumpy ascent, flapping his wings rapidly until he found a thermal to carry him higher with less effort on his part.
He began a slow spiral around the Titan, rising as he did so, and Nia found herself glad that she had Dromarch in her lap and Rex at her side. The view was amazing – cities soared to their side, howling deserts and sandy dunes spread out before them forever, following the contours of the Titan's body like some surreal painting – but it was hard to ignore the heights they were rising too. She closed her eyes and breathed in trembling breaths, opening them to glance at Rex when she felt his hand squeeze hers. "You...bloody bastard, why can't we take a normal airship," she managed to force out.
"Well, Gramps is free. You can't beat that price," Rex mused.
Nia closed her eyes again. "Ohh, but a normal airship would be so much nicer. So much less bumpy, and with...nice, big walls keeping everything closed in."
"Heh. Sorry. Should have figured you'd have hated this, with how scared you are of heights."
"Not scared," she insisted, wrapping her arms around one of his and squeezing tight. "I'm realistic. You fall from this height, you're gonna die from fear before you even hit the ground. It's normal to hate that sort of thing. You're the weirdo, not being scared of it."
"So...you are scared, then."
"The right amount of scared! So it's like I'm not scared at all!"
"Nia, that doesn't make any sense."
Nia clicked her tongue. "It's...something mathy, Tora explained it to me when he was explaining some business expenses...Oi, Tora! Help me explain this!"
Tora bounced over, listening to Nia's explanation. "Oh yes. What Nia trying to say is that her fear levels are well within expected variance," he said, quickly drawing out a little graph within his notebook.
"Yeah...yeah, see that?" Nia said, jabbing her finger into the notebook. "My fear levels….are within one...sig-mah? Is that right? One sigma of the mean. So they're the expected level of fear. So you subtract out...this fitted line, and you're left with the..."
"Residuals," Tora offered.
"Residuals, yeah. Point is! I'm the normal level of scared, so when you subtract out the normal level of scared, it's like I'm not scared at all. And Rex is not nearly as scared as he should be, because he's…two, or even three sigmas of stupid."
Rex laughed, and was about to come back with a retort, when something hissed and howled its way overhead, leaving an orange trail of sparks, faster than the eye could see. "What was-"
"Hold on!" Morag shouted in panic. "Hold on to something! Hold-"
And suddenly, there was another hissing howl, and Gramps roared as an explosion rocked off his side, desperately trying to keep his flying straight for the sake of the people on his back. Everyone screamed as they were nearly tossed off the Titan's back, to be sent hurtling thousands of feet down into the Cloud Sea, Tora himself only being saved by Poppi's quick reflexes.
Morag looked up above them, eyes widening. One of the Ardainian airships, a sleek, black destroyer, had turned toward them, and was firing upon them, from thousands of feet above, by Mor Ardain's crown. "Damn it, they were told we were coming!" she hissed. "Brighid, try giving them a signal that it's you and me here."
Brighid nodded, and with a graceful flourish, she was suddenly a beacon of bright blue flame, a pyre towering dozens of feet. Morag nodded with satisfaction. She used this as a signal to other Ardainian soldiers fairly often. Brighid's fire was highly recognizable. There was no way the commander of that ship couldn't see this, and when he recognized who they were, he'd stop-
Morag watched with shock as the ship unleashed another barrage, a cascade of hissing orange rockets. She stumbled as Gramps roared and tried to weave between them, dodging most of them...but with an awful roar, another one detonated right against his neck, and he howled with pain.
"GRAMPS!" Rex cried, his voice cracking with panic.
Morag looked around, down toward Mor Ardain. She put her hands against the Titan's back. "Land! Land, Gramps!" she shouted. "Doesn't matter where, just land! We're gonna have to sort this out on the ground!"
Gramps looked back at her, giving her a grim nod, and began his descent towards the Ardainian desert, rockets still raining down around him, dotting the desert landscape below with charred, blackened craters. Morag could see, down on the ground, tanks, war vehicles, already cutting a path through the desert. Already pursuing them to where they thought they might land.
She looked up, staring at Malos, who stood only a few feet away, his face eerily calm as he watched the quickly approaching landscape. As an Aegis, she supposed he didn't really have all that much to worry about, even in this sort of situation. Between the roar of the wind, and the howling of rockets, it was too loud to say anything to him. Instead, she reached out, and tapped her fingers against his core crystal. Malos looked up at her in surprise and shock. Once she had his attention, she made a covering motion, across her face, and across his core crystal, pointing down at the soldiers in the sand below.
Malos seemed to understand. With a burst of black sparks, his face was suddenly covered in a sleek, winged knight's helmet. And another armor plate slid in snugly from the plates on his chest, covering up his core crystal.
The desert below them approached with frightening speed, crags and cliffs and rocky outcroppings zipping past as they descended closer and closer. Gramps wanted to slow down for a landing, but it was difficult – the ship above them was still firing upon them, explosions rocking across the desert below, making it difficult to stop. But it was going to have to happen eventually. So when he came across a relatively smooth portion of terrain – a long stretch of sand dunes, of orange, dirty-looking sand, with no rocks visible sticking out of the dirt – he attempted to slow down, to come in for a landing. He was rewarded for his efforts with another rocket detonating against his side, and with a roar, he crashed into the dunes, the sand kicking up around him in a minature sandstorm as he slid across the dunes, carving a long furrow into the desert.
Morag had been tossed from his back the minute he slammed into the ground – everyone had – but being prepared, she and Brighid managed a smooth, graceful roll to their feet as the Titan slid to a stop. Morag raised her arm, shielding her eyes against the whipping, pelting sands. Gramps had chosen a wise area to land – she could only hope that the others tossed from his back had landed, unharmed, in the sand dunes.
And indeed, she could see, not far from her, Nia lifting her face from the ground with a groan, spitting out sand, and Rex not that much further away, being helped to his feet by Malos. But she, unfortunately, had no time to worry about them.
She turned to gaze across the desert, where a convoy of rumbling war machines was approaching them, their headlights stabbing out across the desert, the roar of their engines quickly growing louder and louder. She summoned Brighid's blades to her hands as she walked to intercept them, placing herself between the wounded Titan and the rapidly approaching vehicles.
Reaching her, the convoy screeched to a stop, surrounding her in a ring, headlights pouring onto her, nearly blinding her. Soldiers poured from the vehicles, quickly raising rifles to point at her. "DOWN, GET DOWN, DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET DOWN," a commanding voice screamed at her, and there was the sound of a hundred weapons cocking at once-
With a flourish, Morag was wreathed in blue flames. "I am Special Inquisitor Morag, right hand of the Emperor, and by his authority, you will drop your weapons," she replied, her voice low but clear, deadly, ringing out across the sands.
There was silence for a moment, and Morag actually began to wonder if they were going to shoot at her anyway. But then, she heard a commander's gruff voice: "Architect's arse, lower your rifles, you lot. That's the Inquisitor, sure. I'd recognize those flames anywhere."
The headlights shut off, no longer blinding her, revealing a circle of of Ardainian soldiers, in full armor, faces hidden behind masks, milling about in confusion. One of them, wearing a tall commander's helmet, approached her, eyeing her up and down, then glancing behind her to look at the Titan crashed into the sand. "Ach, Inquisitor, it really is you. What a damn mess."
"Commander. I had sent word on ahead that I would be arriving on a Titan matching this distinct description. Why is it that we were still fired upon?"
The officer gulped. "I dunno, Inquisitor. I'm just in command of this interceptor crew." He looked behind him, and than snapped, "Hey. HEY. You lot, put that damn net away. This is the damn Inquisitor."
Two soldiers, in slightly different outfits than the rest – their armor more black, padded with thick leather – were busy unraveling a gigantic, hooked net of heavy black chain. "Whether or not that's the inquisitor doesn't matter," one of them called. "Our orders are very clear. Every single Titan within the Empire's borders is to be captured and integrated into the war effort."
Rex, in the meantime, had completely ignored the approaching soldiers, instead dashing to Gramps' side the second he had gotten to his feet. "Damn it, damn it," he said, fighting back tears, as he saw the smoking holes in the Titan's hide.
"Oh, don't you worry about me, Rex," Gramps groaned, shaking sand from his head, sending it cascading down. He stretched out his wings, casting immense shadows against the ground. "It would take more than a few rockets to take me out. This is nothing."
Rex shook his head. He couldn't stand it. Not after losing Vandham. He couldn't stand to see another person he loved get hurt for him. Another old friend too willing to sacrifice his life to save young, stupid Rex. He couldn't stand it.
His head snapped up, glaring, as he heard the tramping boots of Ardainian soldiers approaching him. Two soldiers were approaching Gramps, with purpose, holding chains and shackles in their hands, while Morag and another Ardainian officer trailed behind them.
"Commander, I told you to call off your men," Morag snapped.
"They...aren't technically my men. They're part of a new unit, just part of a detachment..." The officer leaned toward Morag conspiratorially. "Very, very Brionac-influenced," he whispered. "They don't have to obey my commands."
"This Titan is now property of the Ardainian government," one of the soldiers began, upon reaching Rex.
"In the name of the Emperor, stop," Morag snapped, as the soldier reached out to hook the chained net into Gramps' stony hide.
And then there was the sudden hiss of steel, of swords drawn from scabbards. And the Ardainian soldiers holding the nets found Rex's blade pointed at their necks, along with Morag's.
"Drop the net," Rex hissed. "Nice and slow."
The soldiers raised their hands, the net falling into the sand, its weight immediately burying itself in the dirt.
"Here's what's going to happen," Morag said tersely. "This Titan is an honored guest of the Emperor. Orders were sent forewarning of his arrival. For as long as he is in Mor Ardain, you will treat him-"
"Ah...no offense, my dear," Gramps interrupted, rumbling. "But...well. Given that you sent word on ahead, and I was still fired upon...I think that perhaps Mor Ardain is not the safest place for me to be." He stretched out, yawning, bearing rows of dagger teeth that made the Ardainian soldiers fidget nervously. "I really have no desire to fight off attempts to get me to join the Empire's forces the entire time I'm here."
Morag looked up at the Titan, and she felt shame stab through her heart. Here she was, inviting him to her home, and he had nearly been killed for it. Of course he didn't want to stay. Of course he'd want to get as far away as possible, as soon as possible. "Of….of course," she murmured, her face somewhat red from embarrassment.
Rex sheathed his sword, turning towards his Titan. "What are you saying, Gramps? You want to wait for us in Fonsett?"
"That may be the best option," the Titan mused. "I know this quest to Elysium is important and all, but you can make a stop there after you finish up here, right? Of course...the best option assuming I can fly away from here without getting shot down."
Morag's mouth was a grim, thin line as she felt yet more shame course through her. "Right." She breathed in heavily, then glared at the Commander in front of her. "Alright. Here's what's going to happen. This Titan is going to fly away from here, and if he's shot at once, I will personally conduct an investigation into corruption among airship commanders, and I can promise you heads will roll. You had best get on the radio as soon as possible and tell the boys up there," Morag nodded upwards, towards the airships circling the skies above them - "what the Inquisitor's orders are."
Rex sighed, patting Gramps' hide, as the Ardainian soldiers ran away in panic, dashing back to their vehicles to get on their radios as quickly as possible. "Jeez, old man, you really do get just all the wrong kinds of attention, don't you."
"Hah! Well, who wouldn't want me on their side in a fight. Can you breathe fire? I didn't think so."
"I can," mused Brighid. "But, ah, it's more of a party trick than a combat thing."
"Either way, this is probably the best bet. I mean, I'd love to be with you, Rex. But you probably won't spend too long here, right?"
"Not too long, no," Morag murmured. "I just wanted...to take some time to talk to my brother. Perhaps introduce you to him." She still felt like a selfish fool. Thank the Architect Gramps hadn't been seriously injured. They were all here, in Mor Ardain, mostly for her. How awful would it have been for Gramps to have died just bringing her here on this...excursion?
"Well then, there you go, I'll see you in a few weeks at the latest." the Titan said happily. "I'm sure the folks back in Fonsett want an update on how you're doing anyway. Imagine what they're going to say when I tell them you're on a quest for Elysium?"
Rex groaned. "Oh, man. I hadn't thought of that. I'm sure some of them will have a few choice words for me."
Finally, the commander returned, telling them they were clear to let the Titan take off. The captains in control of the airships had pushed back, harshly, against the idea of letting him go, but once they had heard that the Inquisitor was on the ground – and that yes, it was definitely the Inquisitor that was there, that they had fired upon – they had relented pretty quickly. Morag had to wonder whether that was because they respected her rank, or because they respected her brother, or whether because they just respected the title "Emperor." She wondered what exactly was going on within the ranks. She was certain, positively certain, that the ship firing upon them had seen Brighid's beacon. And then continued firing, anyway. And the soldiers from the Titan-capture detachment...she had never seen any react so glibly to the presence of the Special Inquisitor. Not that she enjoyed her presence being an ominous, fearsome one to soldiers, necessarily...but they usually at the very least treated her with respect. These men had merely...ignored her.
With a sly smile, and a running start, Gramps had galloped across the dunes, finally leaping into the air, rising rapidly on a thermal. He pirouetted neatly in the air, tucking his wings against him, spinning nimbly, wings flashing against the setting sun. Rex laughed, and felt a bit more at ease. If Gramps could move like that, he probably wasn't too badly injured. And even if the ships were to start firing on him, he'd probably have a much easier time dodging rockets if he could fly like that, without having to worry about anyone on his back. With a start, Rex realized that this was probably why Gramps was putting on this little display in the first place. To make him feel better. The old man really was a considerate guy, sometimes. But on the other hand, if he could move like that, Rex wasn't sure if he was going to believe all of Gramps' moaning and groaning about aches and pains in the future. Still...Rex felt like he really ought to do something for the big Titan. He wasn't sure what. Maybe he'd think of something by the time they went to Leftheria.
Finally, Gramps took off, soaring off to the horizon, quickly making his way away from the Ardainian titan, and then, when he was just a speck in the distance, Rex saw him diving down, down into the Cloud Sea. It was significantly easier for Gramps to swim than it was for him to fly. He'd probably swim the rest of the way to Fonsett.
After he was gone, the commander approached them, bashfully. "Ah. Special Inquisitor Morag. You and your guests are welcome to ride in the convoy. I'm afraid we don't have any...vehicles suiting your status. You'd have to ride in the back of a truck."
Morag barked a laugh. "Captain, of all the things that've happened, that's one thing you don't need to worry about. I don't mind riding like a soldier. I don't think my friends mind, either. Let's go."
11.
The party clambered into the back of one of the Ardainian vehicles, a truck with a roaring, rumbling engine, its frame covered with a thick green tarp. They kept the back of the tarp pinned up as they drove away, so that they could see the terrain disappearing behind them as they raced off. It gave Rex a real appreciation that they had gotten a ride. He could see, speeding behind him, through the clouds of dust and sand kicked up by the truck, just how unforgiving and brutal Mor Ardain's terrain was. Endless, rough desert, pocked by sharp, jagged rock outcroppings.
And it wasn't merely the terrain. If he had thought Uraya's wildlife was aggressive, Mor Ardain's was clearly something else. He could see gargantuan, awful beasts, nearly as big as the truck itself, their skin thick leather, jagged bone spikes jutting out from them, moving in herds as they drove past. And giant snakes, also nearly the size of the truck, aggressive, unafraid of humans, some of them leaping at the trucks, spitting, hissing, chasing them for a short distance before the truck outpaced them, unfurling massive hoods.
Mor Ardain was a rough, forsaken land. And the heat was oppressive. Morag explained that as the Titan got closer to the end of its life, the hotter it became. It made farming nigh impossible. But on the other hand, it allowed the people of Mor Ardain access to incredible amounts of geothermal energy, the lifeblood of the empire. It was this energy that powered their industry, that had led to their rapid advances in science and technology. Rex...could kind of see the problem this introduced. It wasn't just as simple as moving all the people from Mor Ardain to another land when the Titan died. When they moved, they'd no longer have access to so much free, abundant geothermal energy. Adjustments would have to be made. The entire economy of the Empire would have to be reworked.
It was getting close to night time by the time the truck stopped, the sandy dunes stained red with the setting light of day. The truck pulled into a small outpost, just outside the gates of Alba Cavanich. Rex gaped up at the city, as they hopped out of the truck. The sheer grandiosity of it – the imposing, black monolithic buildings, the bright, burning lights shining out of the windows – and above it all, towering, bigger than any building he ever thought possible, the harsh angles, smooth, obsidian palace, the heart of Mor Ardain, golden-striped décor burning bright in the setting sun, big enough to support an airship deck on its roof, where massive battleships docked and took off…
Rex whistled appreciatively. "Man. I heard Mor Ardain was impressive, but I guess you never really know until you see it in person."
As they milled about, the Commander approached them. "Lady Morag. I can arrange to have you bought the rest of the way to the palace." He spread his hands in apology. "Sorry, we had to stop here at the base to refuel, but -"
"That's alright, Commander," Morag replied. Seeing the imposing spires of Alba Cavanich, she felt more at home. It had been too long since she had walked these streets, too long since she had known the simple joy of being back in her homeland. "I think we can walk the rest of the way. It's not a long way to the palace."
Rex glanced around, at the base they were on. It was much like the base back in Torigoth had been. Decorated with large, anti-aircraft guns, a few squat, unintrusive living quarters, ringed with high walls, barbed wire, guard towers, and a dock leading out into the Cloud Sea for ships to -
Suddenly, Rex blinked. There was a group of ragged-looking, beaten men, chained together at the ankle, being led through the base by a group of soldiers. Their clothes were rags, tatters, and they wept as they were marched along.
"What's...going on there?" he asked, pointing them out.
The Captain glanced up, taking in the group of ragged men. "Ah." He shook his head. "Traitors, the lot of them. Found to be conspiring to sabotage the war effort." He shielded his eyes against the sun, watching them walk. "They...yep, I think these lot are slated for execution."
Rex was quiet for a moment. Then his eyes went wide, and he looked at Morag, then Malos, in panic. "Execution…?"
"Yep," the Captain said, shrugging. "Like I said, sabotaging the war effort."
"But...what did they do, specifically?" Rex cried, turning towards him.
"Rex," Nia said, softly. She knew he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Hmm." The Captain pondered for a moment. "I can't say for sure what each of them did. Didn't read the list of charges over that closely. But I know some of them. Spreading anti-war propaganda. Destroying important industrial machinery, decreasing productive capacity. Suspected consorting with the enemy."
"Last I knew, those sorts of charges didn't warrant outright execution," Morag said softly.
The Captain merely shrugged. "Things changed, I suppose. I don't make the rules."
"So all they did...was say how they didn't like the war, and broke some machines," Rex said, fuming, "And you're going to take away their lives for that…? Just for words and broken parts?"
"Rex," Nia whispered, grabbing his hand. He looked at her, eyes wide. Damn him, why did he have to be so innocent and good? "Let it go," she said quietly. "There's nothing we can do." And she winced. It hurt, it actually hurt to be the one to stomp on that innocence.
"But...this isn't right," Rex said, hopelessly. He looked up at Morag, who shook her head, looking away, and then up at Malos. "We...have to save them, we have to do something," he said, despair creeping into his voice.
"You can't always do something, Rex," Malos said quietly. "We're in the heart of the Empire. We can't really do anything. Be smart about this."
The Captain was staring at them, looking at their whispered conversation suspiciously. "We'll be fine, thank you, Captain," Morag replied to him, tersely. "We'll make our way to the palace on foot. You can take your leave."
"RIGHT, YOU TRAITORS, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, FACE THE CLOUD SEA," one of the soldiers roared from behind them.
Nia held onto Rex as she felt him instinctively try to run in that direction. "We can't...we can't just let them..." he said, frantically. And finally, he stopped struggling. He shut his eyes, shook his head, and looked away, grimacing. "We can't do anything, can we. The whole Empire would be down on our heads if we tried to save them."
Behind them, there came the sound of guns loading.
"Let's just go," Rex said, and the resignation and sadness in his voice...as much as it hurt him, Nia hope he never lost it. She hoped he never stopped feeling as strongly about injustice as he did right now. It was...part of what made Rex, Rex.
As they walked away, gunshots rang out.
Rex's eyes widened, and he put his hands to his head. "Architect," he muttered to himself. More people. More people he couldn't save. More people giving up their lives...for what? For trivialities. For words and broken machine parts, they had paid with their lives, and he hadn't had even the slightest hope of stopping it. "Oh, damn it, damn it, I am so worthless," he muttered to himself.
Nia heard him, and felt her rage rise within her. She wanted to slap Rex, tell him what an idiot he was for thinking that he could save everyone, even strangers. But...now was not the time. The poor boy was too hurt already. She could tell him what an idiot he was later. Instead, she just squeezed his hand and bit her tongue. It was hard, but she bit it.
As they entered Mor Ardain, a light rain began falling.
Steam rose from the tangle of pipes that threaded through the gates to Mor Ardain, supplying thermal energy to the gate itself, rising from the streets baked to incredible heat by the scorching desert sun, from the buildings whose black exteriors absorbed the heat of day, the entire city cast in a small, thick fog.
Even with the dying light of day, even with the rain, Mor Ardain bustled with incredible activity, humming with energy. People crowded the streets, each of them, it seemed, shooting off in their own direction, a chaos of movement, keeping their eyes on the pavement, walking quickly, purposefully. All of them wore what looked to be some form of military dress. The party got a few curious stares as they made their way through the city, but for the most part people kept their eyes down, kept to themselves.
As they moved further into the city, Rex...didn't know what it was he was feeling. It was a sort of energy, almost frantic, that moved through him. He wasn't the only one to feel it. The sight of the city around them, operating as a well-oiled machine – everyone moving with such purpose, everyone knowing exactly where to go, the screech of train whistles, the smooth and unstoppable pulsing of thermal energy through the pipes of the city…there was something about this place, something about Mor Ardain, that...was almost hypnotic, in its allure. Everything so well-coordinated, everything so...meaningful.
And as they got closer to the palace, the streets began to fill with politicians, politicians giving speeches, but these were not the same sort of politicians Rex was used to. Rex barely ever paid attention to politics, but his impression of politicians was that they were dull, boring, bossy, and not nearly as important as they thought they were.
But here, the politicians of Mor Ardain...they were down in the streets, giving fiery, impassioned speeches to huge crowds. With flashing eyes, and quick rhetorical wit, they extolled and harangued, with silver tongues they painted a picture of the world, a world where Mor Ardain stood above all the rest, and it was right that it did, because they had worked so hard to make it that way, and the crowds roared approval as they spoke of conquest, and they spoke of power, power to change the world, and that was what Mor Ardain was to them – a contract, a pact, a pact of power, to change the world as they saw fit.
History moved, here, history was the blood of Mor Ardain. Uraya, Fonsa Myma – it had been a comfortable place to live, a beautiful one, even. But history was not forged there, not in the same way it was in Mor Ardain. Mor Ardain was ambition, ingenuity, purpose, all in one, and it flowed from every pore of the city. You could feel it in your bones, the things done here, they would change the world. And for good or ill, that made Mor Ardain more than other countries.
And you could hear it, in the speech of its politicians, in the enthusiasm of its people: this was their moment, their moment to rise, by the blood and sweat of generations of their people had they prospered, and now the world was poised for change. This was their moment in history, the future belonged to them, and it ran through the crowds like a current, it even ran through Rex. He could see the joy in their eyes, they had worked so hard, created so much, discovered so much about how the world worked, sacrificed so much, bled so much, all to bring them to this moment, this moment where they could rework the very tides of history. The whistle of trains screeched in the distance, the hum of thermal piping throbbed, and and it all blended together, with the purpose and certainty of Mor Ardain's people, into some grand symphony, bigger than any one person could understand, bigger than any one person could conduct, uncontrollable and wild.
Slowly, the speeches and cries of the politicians, and the crowds that attended them, faded away, as they drew closer to the palace itself. Morag paused before the humongous, monolithic doors of the palace, black woven with gold, looking back out over the city that was her home, feeling the symphony of her Empire flow through her, knowing that there was nothing else like it, anywhere in the world.
"Welcome," she said, "to Mor Ardain."
Note
I just wanted to say, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing this. I wish I had more time to reply to you guys, but this takes up quite a lot of the little free time I have just writing it.
For this chapter, the walk up to Mor Ardain was really inspired a lot by Max Richter-November
As usual, please review if you can!