TITANOMACH I | TRIUMVIRATE


INTERLUDE II | SPIDER


DEN OF THE SPIDER | THE TANGLED SHORE | THE REEF

There was never a moment when the Tangled Shore was still or silent.

The disparate collection of once-lifeless, motionless asteroids within the Reef had been altered by months of continuous construction. Glimmer refineries, atmosphere generators, mining stations, research outposts, living spaces, and shipyards were built into the dozens of massive rocks, anchored by gravity wells and strung together by seemingly tenuous bridges.

It was a place of true neutrality, a place where business was conducted. There was a time and place for time and conflict, and having such take place on the doorstep of the Tangled Shore's patron was hardly a wise idea. Of course, this led to high tensions on the Tangled Shore, and throughout the wider Reef, as Loyalists and Breakaways conducted business within sight of each other, quietly fuming, though unwilling to be the first to break the peace.

They knew that the Spider would have no qualms expelling them from his domain, and so they complied.

Further emphasizing the neutrality of the Shore was that it was a full demilitarized zone, outside of the landing platforms, where the Spider allowed his guests permission to guard their proprietary cargo and spacecraft. Within the Shore itself, however, there were no weapons to be had by the guests.

A place for business, not war.

That did not mean it was unprotected.

Eliksni draped in mixtures of robes, armor, and other coverings stood guard throughout the Shore. Snipers stood atop the roofs of the bulbous buildings, while soldiers clutched their rifles on the ground, waiting for the opportunity to use them. They may have lacked the professionalism of the warriors of the House of Devils and the tactical brilliance of the House of Stone, but they were nonetheless a useful force, sufficient to deter…trouble.

The Spider did not care how they looked, so long as they were sufficiently loyal. Soldiers could be replaced. Loyalty was far harder to secure, and far more valuable.

Truly, a unique place within the system.

Residing within the largest asteroid of the Reef, the hallmark of the Tangled Shore, was the Den of the Spider himself. One could immediately tell that the soldiers protecting it were of a different crop. Their uniforms were unique, their masks identical. Their pauldrons were marked the emblem of their patron – his personal corps of soldiers.

That was before even entering the Den.

Those unfortunate – or foolish – enough to try their luck at such an unauthorized entrance would find a maze, as no map of the building existed, and he had destroyed all architectural diagrams. They would find doors that exploded, false walls that would trap them inside, floors that fell out from underneath them into the vacuum of space, poison gas which would fill the halls, and nanite swarms disguised as tempting glimmer.

The Spider was almost disappointed that no one had truly tried to break into it yet.

When people first saw the Spider, their first instinct was to lower their guard. Before they saw him, they knew of his reputation. A pragmatic businessman, a calculating traitor, a ruthless criminal - depending on who or what one got the story from. Everyone had an opinion on the Spider and the Syndicate he commanded, but all recognized that he was a man of influence and power.

All they saw, however, was a bulbous Eliksni resting on his throne, the seeming epitome of sloth and disinterest. The Spider certainly towered over the smaller whelps he employed, explicitly outmassing them, but he was hardly one to match the warrior physique of the House of Devils, or the titans of the House of Kings.

What did one feel when they looked upon him? Relief? Disappointment? Or did their guards rise? There certainly had to be something that had allowed this fat entity to acquire the power he had.

Most fell into one of the former categories.

Both Eliksni and alien psychology were sadly predictable, but quite useful for his purposes. Those whose first reaction was wariness? Those were the people his interest was attracted to. It was far more rewarding to play the game with an opponent that didn't handicap themselves.

However, he was more than content to exploit their underestimation of him.

The minds of Eliksni and alien were simple, easy to appeal to.

And it was time to expand his market to Earth before the Breakaways dominated business. He'd hate to explain to the Vanguard how he had limited influence, and it was far better to have them reliant on him than as a tool to discard. Oh, they came, they threatened, so sure of their power that they failed to consider what his end goal was.

The Vanguard mistook him for an enemy, a hostile party, one not aligned with their goals. Their fear was the reason he cooperated with them. Amusing that they hadn't even considered that he was a simple businessman who made deals with any who came to the Shore. Well, the Vanguard had their uses – chiefly, providing information.

How quaint that the Vanguard themselves were coming to him personally to make their demands. Such conversations were fascinating insights into the motivations, goals, and plans of the resurgent Guardian corps. He wondered if they knew they were giving such valuable information away.

Information the Loyalist Houses paid dearly for.

Now, though, it was time to expand his reach beyond the Vanguard to the Human factions that were…less than friendly with the ones who claimed the blessing of the Great Machine. Such ambassadors were being invited now – under the condition of secrecy, of course. The man who had just entered immediately made the Spider click his mandibles together in curiosity.

A man who was covered in armor from head to foot, colored black with silver trim. Certainly advanced, and likely powered, though it was difficult to tell. On the upper left breast was a seal, one that had a stylized avian on it – an eagle, if he recalled correctly, just visible under a golden half-cape draped over the same arm

The man wore no helmet, allowing his face to be viewed – a handicap most aliens seemed to unknowingly inflict upon themselves. Seeing the face revealed the person. Well, it wasn't like he was going to complain. The man's skin was a brown color, and his hair was black as the armor he wore. His eyes were a contrasting blue, set within a face that was older, but not elderly.

Arrha and Avrok both nodded towards the Spider, their implicit acknowledgement that the man had been cleared. His loyal bodyguards took their places before the throne upon which he sat, their eyes never wavering, and their hands resting on their weapons. Too many underestimated them, a fact he took great pleasure in.

This man, though, would likely not be so easily lulled into complacency.

The Spider shifted his massive form more upright, almost leaning closer. "Welcome, my friend. I am…" he chittered. "So pleased your people have accepted my invitation. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?"

"Marwaan el-Yassin," the man said in a smooth, controlled voice. The voice of a diplomat. "Ambassador of the Kaiser, Sword of the Germanic Empire of Europe."

A grandiose title, but such seemed to be a universal constant. It certainly could not compare to the self-indulgence of the Hive, nor the long titles some of the House of Kings used for themselves. Of all of the factions on that little part of Earth, the so-called Germanic Empire had seemed to be one of the most reasonable.

Respectably large, neutral in the ongoing conflicts, professional, and with a market. Quite a perfect ground upon which to plant. Yassin appraised the Spider carefully. "We are aware of your reputation. Tell us, why did you want to have this meeting?"

"Why, to see if we can come to an arrangement…" the Spider pressed the fingers of his upper hands together, absentmindedly toying with a Ghost shell in one of his lower ones. "You see, I am under the impression that you have no loyalty to the Vanguard, do you not?"

A thin smile manifested on the man's face. "Which one?"

The Spider chuckled. "The one which the Speaker sits upon."

"The South American one then," Yassin nodded. "We owe no allegiance to any Vanguard, be they from East, West, or South. Your assumption is correct."

"Good, good," an excellent start already. "Now, while the Vanguard has sought me out, they are merely a client – one of many, and I see little reason to deny my services to the rest of Humanity. Your little empire appears more stable than some of the other factions nearby, and, thus, I believe that a partnership would be mutually beneficial."

No obvious reaction from the man. Quite impressive. "That depends on what the price is."

The Spider's mandibles clicked. "I would expect no less, of course. An agreement that benefits us both."

"First," Yassin said, clasping his hands before him. "I want to know what you are offering."

Yes, there was no better opening. He waved a hand and Arrha had two of his subordinates bring a crate before the Ambassador, opening it to reveal the shimmering blue glimmer within. Yassin's eyes widened ever so slightly. With a gloved hand he reached in and picked up one of the cubes of programmable matter. "Glimmer. Refined. Pure." His eyes tracked suspiciously to the Spider. "How do you know how to do this?"

"Your people were under the entity you call the Traveler, were they not?" The Spider asked, motioning with an open palm. "I made the judgement that what She shared with us, She shared with you. Glimmer was one such gift of the Great Machine."

Now Yassin was openly wary as he set the cube back into the crate. "The Traveler came to you?"

Oh, how ignorant he was. All of the Humans were. Perhaps time to fill in the gaps of their education. "I see that Humanity at large is…" he waved a hand. "Ignorant of the Eliksni. Yes, we were once like you. The Great Machine came to us. She allowed a period of bloody war, from which she elevated the victor, before bringing us into the Golden Harvest. In this period, we prospered, we lived content lives under the tyranny of the House of Kings, empowered by the Great Machine."

His lips clicked in distaste. "We lived and served, we prepared for the Darkness that had been prophesied. And, when the Whirlwind came, we fought, and fought, until the Taken King came and crushed us. And, when we faced annihilation, the Great Machine fled, leaving us to die. Only a few Eliksni escaped, hunted by the Hive Gods for centuries."

The Spider leaned back. "And now we have come here. To your system. One which happens to house the Great Machine – a curious coincidence, I would say." He appraised the Human. "I see from your expression that your story is similar to ours – only the Great Machine stayed for you. Indulge in my curiosity, if I may be so bold – does She yet live?"

Yassin nodded ever so slightly. "The Ghosts activated recently, after centuries of dormancy. She is healing. Slowly, but She is."

"You are a Guardian, then, are you not?"

"I bear Light, Spider," the man said, a hard edge to his voice. "I am no Guardian, nor do I serve the Traveler. The Ghosts have returned to those who remain loyal to Her and the Vanguards. Some in the Germanic Empire retain their Ghosts, I do not. Our path will be one forged by our own hand. We owe loyalty to neither the Vanguard nor the Traveler, after their failure."

"Of course, of course," confirmation of the healing of the Traveler. The Vanguard had been more guarded. The House of Light would appreciate the information, and it would confirm their suspicions. "But let us return to the matter at hand. Glimmer, I can provide you. Mercenaries, too, if you so wish." He motioned and another crate was brought over. "Or, if weapons strike your fancy, I have only the finest from the House of Winter and the masterpieces forged by the House of Kings. Ammunition? Explosives? Something more…exotic?"

Another subordinate walked forward, this one carrying a weapon. On the surface, it seemed to be little more than a simple bow – but an…unusual property had been discovered within, one which had, sadly, claimed the lives of some mercenaries who'd tried to use it.

Yassin gently picked up the weapon, a look of awe in his eyes. Yes, it did seem he knew what it was. With a cautious hand, the protective golden glow of Light enveloping it, he plucked the string of the weapon. A burst of electricity ran across the bowstring, and the entire weapon became statically charged.

He shot a glance at the Spider. "May I?"

The Spider chuckled. "Of course my friend," his voice lowered. "Do test it for yourself."

An arrow, one with a metal shaft and a barbed arrowhead, manifested in the Ambassador's hand with a glow of Light, as he looked around for an appropriate place to shoot. A largely cleared wall was available. With a smooth motion, he nocked the arrow and pulled it back, his arm bathed in Light as the bowstring crackled with power.

The Spider leaned forward, fascinated by what he saw. No matter the origin, the displays of the Lightbearers were something spectacular. The arrow was lit with lightning, and small bolts jumped off Yassin himself as he aimed. With a thundercrack, the arrow, no, a lightning bolt jumped from the weapon and impacted the wall, shattering, and sending a million smaller bolts along the wall, turning it black with another thunderclap.

With the bowstring once more loose, the lightning dissipated. "The Trinity Ghoul," Yassin said, almost to himself in awe. "Incredible. How did you find this?"

Ah, so that was what the Guardians had called the weapon. "My scavengers scour the system for items of interest," he said. "From the quaint to the exotic. I know little of the history of such objects, but I know there are those who do. If you are curious, this was found on Venus. Sold to me for a pittance, as it killed those who tried to use it. I have no use for such a weapon – but I know Lightbearers, such as yourself, do."

He extended a hand. "Consider it a gift. A sign of my intent, and my willingness to form a mutually beneficial partnership – and as a promise for what I can provide."

"Something the Empire appreciates," Yassin said, placing the bow on his back. "However, I know you do not give gifts indefinitely. You have things you can offer us – but you want something in return."

"Yes, this is a mutual agreement, after all," the Spider chuckled. "You will find that I am quite…open in what I will accept. Glimmer is a universal currency, after all, but I have seen that your species has certain weapons that the Eliksni do not – as well as armors, foods, and other things certain buyers would pay for. And, finally, information is quite a valuable currency." He leaned forward. "And I am very curious to know the truth of what is happening on your planet – which the Vanguard declines to mention."

Yassin nodded, making a calculation. "There is one thing I wish to know before any…decisions are made. We have been attacked by your species before. Repelled, of course, but they are dangerous warriors, and troublesome. The region has similarly suffered attacks."

"Now that I am all too happy to provide," the Spider leaned back once more, his mandibles chittering. "Every single Eliksni that engages your species in battle is from the House of Devils. Warriors of the Eliksni, and the ones on Earth specifically are led by a certain Archon Eramis. Their House is subordinate to the House of Dusk, and Earth falls within their sphere of operations. They want to secure the Great Machine, claim it for themselves."

It was almost true. He declined to mention the mercenaries in his employ the Devils saw fit to use in deniable operations – nor the spies he had within their ranks. No reason for this man to know it, as ultimately all Eliksni aggression could be traced to Solkis and his House.

"Curious," Yassin rubbed his chin. "But useful information. The Kaiser will be very pleased to receive some answers on this subject."

"Then, am I to presume that we have an arrangement?" the Spider laced his fingers together.

"We will have an arrangement," Yassin nodded. "We will provide a list of what we desire – and what we can provide to you. If you have an idea of what you would ask from us in return, then please inform us of it. A formal negotiation team will be assembled, and an agreement will be signed, if that is agreeable."

"Of course," the Spider didn't refrain from hiding his pleasure at another agreement struck. "I will be more than happy to provide what you ask."

"Good," the man's lips were set in a thin line. "The British war to our west, and Felwinter looks down from the north. We are in a position where such an agreement is needed."

"Oh," the Spider's mandibles chittered in interest. "Since we are speaking, please, tell me more. After all – I would like nothing more than to tailor what I can offer to my clients."


DEN OF THE SPIDER | THE TANGLED SHORE | THE REEF

Through the bustling roads of the Tangled Shore, the shops, machines, and markets where hundreds gathered and conducted business, there were a few who made their way to the foreboding Spider's Den. One of them did not stand out from the crowd, cloaked in garments that hid his form, only the mask giving a hint as to the identity of the one who walked the Shore.

This Eliksni walked towards the guards by the nondescript door. He knew that there were snipers placed on the roof, with in other places he could not see, which were no doubt trained on him - to say nothing of the automated defenses silently tracking him. The Spider's minions were no doubt aware he was coming, and the two guards in the front were simply for show. If need be, two dozen could appear at a moment.

Yes, the Spider knew who was coming to speak to him.

"[Halt,]" one of the guards ordered. "[Only those with business are permitted.]"

The Eliksni stood to his full height, larger than the respectably-sized, but still much smaller guard. Cast-offs from the Houses of Judgement or Winter no doubt. Unsurprising that such mercenaries were employed, as the Spider cared little for who made up his employ – or if they lived or died. There was no shortage of failures who were willing to work for him.

He shifted one of his garments to reveal the seal - that should be enough to get him inside. The guards shook their heads. "[No business, no entry,]" the second one said, raising his rifle. "[Come back when your appointment is valid.]"

The Eliksni appraised the guards carefully. "[You do not want to do this, whelp. This is your singular warning.]"

"[As is ours,]" the first one said, gesturing with the rifle to get back. "[Not even the House of Light gains entrance to the Spider without permission.]"

He wondered if the Spider intentionally placed dense mercenaries like these at the door specifically to annoy him. Regardless, it was tiring, and he was not going to waste more time with these children. "[Enough. You were warned.]" The hands of the Eliksni shimmered with transparent gold, and, with a motion, asheen manifested over the guards, pinning them in stasis.

He laid down two hands, one on each on their chests.

The air shimmered and waved.

Despite himself, he remembers.

He still cannot let go of that first time, when golden fire burst forth from the claws of his hands.

When, meekly, expectantly, he spoke to the cosmos and beamed as it answered back in harmonious concert to the chorus the radiant gift he bore offered.

His body, submerged in the warm stream of creation, his mind the only limit to his power.

He was shown a universe eager to be sculpted - an empty canvas, and only now he could actually see the outlines. All he had to do was paint.

He had been but a hatchling in those bygone days, starry-eyed and innocent.

Faithful. Optimistic.

This time, a simple command would do.

Trite, compared to what such a gift could accomplish.

One word, focused on within his mind's eye.

Practical, yet elegant, from a certain point of view.

Resolute, yet merciful in its restraint.

Stop.

Atoms and mineral compounds instantly came together in perfect unison, encasing the two helpless guards in blocks of obsidian stone.

Once, he would have marveled at such a display, the otherwise ironclad laws of physics and chemistry offering themselves as malleable putty, ready to be remade by a mere mortal.

Once, he would have seen such work and been prideful, for it was stone carved from the primal pillars this universe sat upon.

Primordial starborne dust, readily answering the call of one who borrowed transcendence.

Cosmic poetry behind each millisecond of action.

Subtleties and intricacies unseen to the untrained, unfortunate eye.

Words which once tasted like the sweetest honey one would mix with Riisian tea, now acrid bile.

Ash.

Another black jewel for the cursed King's Throne.

It had not needed to end that way.

If only She had stayed.

If only She had cared for the Eliksni.

He caught himself as he heard the guard's trapped bones begin to crack under the iron vice of his private rage and smelled Ether-infused blood starting to seep from under their masks.

He stepped back and let the power fade.

He would free them when he left, of course, but perhaps that would serve as an appropriate lesson. He was not worried about bystanders who had seen. The Spider dealt with all of the factions of Eliksni – the House of Light was no exception.

Without another word, he strode into the Spider's Den. He had been here enough times to know the path to the Spider's lair. The entire place was a monument to gluttony and the smug belief in technological supremacy. A temple to the temporal and mortal, one that could be oh-so-easily smashed by those who wielded the Light.

Despite that, he tempered himself. The Spider was cunning and devious. It did little good to underestimate him.

Soon enough, he entered the chambers where the Spider sat within his web. The bulbous Eliksni let out a loud laugh at the sight of him entering, the same two bodyguards always by his side lifting their weapons. "[Mithrax! I did not expect to see you so soon!]"

Away from the crowds and no longer wanting to maintain the disguise, Mithrax, Kell of the House of Light, discarded the flimsy robe that had covered him, revealing the silver-gold armor that had served him since the Whirlwind. "[Your guards continue to irritate me.]"

"[Ah, we have discussed this, old friend,]" the Spider waved a hand and the other guards stood down. "[If I let every client speak to me whenever they wished, I'd have no time at all. No exceptions, my friend, though I do apologize if they gave your trouble. You are a…]" he clicked his mandibles. "[Special case.]"

"[They gave me no trouble, though they will serve as decorations for a brief period.]"

"[Indeed, indeed, never one to hide your skill,]" the Spider said, leaning back into his chair. "[Now, what can I do for the House of Light? Or are you perhaps coming on behalf of the Kings?]"

"[I know you had one of the Humans as a guest,]" Mithrax went straight to the heart of the matter. "[One not of their Vanguard. What did they say?]"

"[As suspected, the Guardians are less unified than the Vanguard led me – and subsequently you – to believe,]" the Spider revealed, with the flick of a wrist. "[Do not mistake me – the Vanguard is far more organized than the others, but they lack control over Earth.]"

"[Something the Breakaways are beginning to exploit,]" Mithrax muttered.

"[Yes, though they are having difficulties,]" the Spider chortled. "[One does not simply walk onto a planet of Lightbearers and expect to succeed.]"

"[Eramis is a bitter fool, as is the House of Dusk,]" Mithrax shook his head. "[I am not here to discuss the Breakaways, Spider. Did this human share more about the Great Machine?]"

"[I believe it is confirmed that She is recovering,]" the Spider answered with curious thoughtfulness. "[And that the Ghosts have not returned to all of them – only the ones deemed as 'loyal'. A curious fact, no? The Humans appear to have no idea what the Great Machine did to us.]"

"[Unsurprising,]" Mithrax said flatly. "[She would hide Her shame.]"

"[I do wonder why She stayed to protect these Humans, but fled for us,]" the Spider chittered curiously. "[I have thought about it more than I wished, but it is puzzling, information I am not sure how to use.]"

"[It does not matter,]" Mithrax dismissed. "[Eliksni forge our own path under the Kings. No deity or Breakaway will change this. Our loyalty to the Great Machine died in the Whirlwind. I see nothing that has changed this.]"

"[There are those in your House who disagree.]"

"[I am Kell. They are not.]"

"[Ah, that is why I like you, Mithrax,]" the Spider chuckled. "[You do not cling to the delusions and pointless honors you once did. Such evolution is quite...inspiring.]"

Mithrax said nothing for a moment. "[Evolution I wished not to undertake, Spider. Do not mock.]"

"[My apologies,]" the Spider flicked a wrist, sounding decidedly unapologetic. "[I suspect you will now ask their reaction to learning the truth of the Eliksni – I presume the House of Kings has yet to decide how to intervene on Earth?]"

"[No. The Kings deliberate and await more information. Share it now.]"

A command, not a request. "[I find it difficult to judge how the Vanguard will react,]" the Spider laced his fingers together as a lower hand toyed with a Ghost shell. "[Their Ghosts whisper into their ears - the murmurs of a sleeping god persist. They may deny the truth, or they may consider its validity. The Vanguard seems to wish to focus on their affairs – you and the Loyalists will be a problem they would not want to address.]"

He leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. "[However, factions that are not aligned with the Great Machine will likely be receptive. I suspect there is common ground to be had – but I have shared enough information for free, even for you, my friend. I do, however, believe that there is a strong ally that your masters could approach.]"

An unsurprising development - the Spider would only carry on a conversation for so long before requiring some kind of payment. "[You will be compensated for your services, as usual.]"

The word of the Kell of Light was iron. The Spider knew it could be relied upon, and was satisfied. "[Good, good. Now, there is another aspect to the dynamics of Earth that has received little attention. Rasputin, an artificial intelligence, called a Warmind by them. It exists independent of Great Machine and Guardians, a singular entity, a powerful one, from what I have learned.]"

"[You suggest aligning with an artificial intelligence?]" Mithrax asked, confused.

"[Ha!]" The Spider seemed amused. "[The machine is devious, and I suspect not even I could approach it unless it desired so. No, no, but there is a certain faction that is…connected to it. One which I would begin directing you towards…once I establish a relationship there, of course.]"

"[Do not delay further, Spider,]" Mithrax demanded. "[Speak what you know. What do you propose?]"

"[A quiet faction that even the Vanguard appear wary of, or the guest I had earlier implied as much,]" the Spider said with an air of drama. "[Tell me, Mithrax, what do you know of Felwinter's Empire?]"


THE TOWER | SANCTUARY CITY | EARTH

Light had faded from the Tower as evening came, and the lights inside dimmed as another day of the Tower came to an end. Another day, and another section of the long tale the Speaker was telling was ended. He'd said that was enough for the day, and he would continue tomorrow.

She had spent the few nights she'd had here in the libraries or walking through the various levels of the Tower. She didn't have to sleep, so she instead decided to become immersed in the new reality she found herself in. However, most of the time she found herself ruminating on what the Speaker had told her, how different it had all been, or at least compared to now.

She did not know how the story was going to end, but she could make some guesses. Tonight though, she wasn't alone, but accompanied by Cayde-6, the very talkative Exo from some days ago. He'd asked if she wanted to chat over dinner, and before she could tell him she didn't really eat, he'd just invited himself along.

Granted, she wasn't opposed to talking, and didn't really have the heart to tell him otherwise, so both of them walked to one of the Tower cafeterias. She wasn't sure what she and one of the five most powerful people in the Vanguard really had to talk about, but, as it turned out, she didn't really have to worry about that, as Cayde-6 had very few problems filling the silence.

He was quite talkative. Entertaining, but he certainly liked to hear his own voice.

She was more interested in his body than what he was saying. Even from cursory glances and assessments, she was seeing minute adjustments and modifications that were significantly different to standard Exo models. There was a streamlined, fluid quality to him that she didn't have. She wasn't sure if he was a military model or something else.

He moved with the dexterity of a Human, but the precision of a machine. She was very precise, and her movements largely fluid to the organic eye, but it was clear she was from an older generation. She could only guess at how much better his internal systems were. It did appear that his joints possessed the full range of motion, making it impossible to twist or snap – useful in hand-to-hand combat.

She realized he had said something. "Uh, you there?" Cayde lightly waved a hand in front of her. "My eyes are up here."

"Sorry," Patriot-3 shook her head. "I was…distracted."

"You know, I don't blame you one bit," he said lightly. "If I had your model and showed up centuries in the future, I'm sure I too would be looking at all the little tweaks and improvements here and there. The good stuff's on the inside though," he tapped his chest. "Anyway, I was going to say, what do you want?"

Ah. It seemed they were at the cafeteria, a mixture of men and women in armor, engineering garb, and civilian clothing around them. Not too many, given the hour, but a moderate amount. "I, uh," she paused, unsure how to answer. "I'm…not hungry."

"What? With all of-" Cayde's mouth clamped shut, and he closed his eyes in exasperation. "God, I really am an idiot. I forgot early models didn't have hunger simulations." He clasped his hands together. "Welp! I guess I dragged you here for nothing. Why didn't you say something-" he suddenly cut himself off, holding up a hand. "Actually, no, don't answer that. I know, I talk too much."

"It's not an issue," Patriot-3 said, amused, despite herself.

"Well, I do appreciate your understanding," Cayde said, tugging on his hood. "In any case, I'll let you decide if you want to stay and chat, otherwise I deserve to stew in embarrassment."

Patriot-3 chuckled. "It is fine. I'll find a place to sit."

"Wonderful," he gave her a thumbs-up. "I'll be back in no time."

While he was getting his food, she picked out a place that wasn't too far away, but with few people around. She didn't really want any more company, and she knew she stood out pretty clearly as an old model. A few minutes later, Cayde came back with a bowl of something. Her memory banks identified it as ramen.

"Mmm, yeah, this is the stuff," he said as he sat opposite her and began eating. Patriot-3 felt there was something extremely uncanny about a machine actually eating food. "You know that feeling when you eat something, and it's the best thing you've ever tasted?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No."

"Don't worry, you will," he promised, moving his chopsticks with uncanny precision. "Underrated perk of being an Exo – that feeling? Feels the same every time. Believe it or not, people can get tired of even food they like. Us? Tastes amazing every time."

"Is that…even desirable?" She asked slowly, trying to phrase what she was thinking. "Is hunger something anyone wants to feel?"

He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "I mean, we can shut it off. I do it whenever there's a mission. But honestly, there's something really fulfilling about eating. And drinking. I don't want to say it makes me feel more 'alive', but, well, it kind of does. You'll know what I'm talking about. It's a good kind of feeling. When you get upgraded, we're going to pick out your first food. You have to pick well, because you'll probably stick with it for the next half year at least."

She indicated the bowl. "Is that why you choose ramen tonight?"

"Yep, first meal I remember eating, best thing I ever had," he took another bite. "Still is. I do sometimes think about trying something new, because I know I'll like it – thank you adaptive programming – but there's something about your first and favorite meal that you don't want to stop. No joke, I once ate ramen for a year straight. Tasted just as good every time. Cooks thought I was nuts. Think Zavala almost banned it from the Tower because he was sick of the smell." He sniffed indignantly. "Which I took great offense to."

Patriot-3 appraised him. "Do you mind a question?"

He waved a hand. "Of course not, shoot."

"I do not want you to take this the wrong way," she said slowly. "But you seem…a bit different from the other Vanguard."

Cayde laughed at that for a good minute. "Oh, that is hilarious. True, yes. But still, hilarious." He took another bite, pausing a bit before answering. "I know, I don't exactly fit the mold of the others. Grim, serious, and with multiple layers of separation between themselves and everyone else." He shook his head. "I've never been a big believer in the concept of 'objectivity' in making decisions. Doesn't make the job easier in my experience. Then again, I suppose my peculiarities could be where I came from."

"Which was?"

"Well, from the bottom, and an Exo to boot," Cayde continued, messing with the ramen in the bowl. "The Vanguard is usually drawn from the upper ranks. Proteges, powerhouses and heroes. Ikora was Osiris' successor, the Speaker was…the Speaker, and even though Zavala doesn't remember what he was, I'd bet money he was some high-ranking Awoken official."

"Still," Patriot-3 said. "You must have earned your role somehow."

Cayde seemed about to answer, and then got a strange, humorous gleam in his eye. He leaned forward conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret. "Well, here's the thing. The way the Hunters choose their Vanguard is a bit different. See, whoever is the Hunter Vanguard at the time makes a bet with someone that, if they die, then they become the next Vanguard. So, I was friends with my predecessor, one day he dies – boom – I get the job." He leaned back, satisfied. "All about knowing the right people."

Patriot-3 stared at him in disbelief, unsure how serious he was being. Her mouth opened and shut several times, trying to form some kind of answer that wouldn't immediately offend him, before Cayde started laughing.

"Your face," he chuckled. "Worth it. No, no, don't worry, I didn't get my job by making a bet. Zavala would shoot anyone who suggested such a stupid idea."

"Oh," Patriot-3 was relieved. "Good."

"But – serious answer here, I more or less just worked my way up the ranks," he said. "Killed a few bad guys, got the attention of the right people, seemed to make a good impression. Spent a while on the Perfect Circle, became friends with my predecessor – that part was true – and when he died…" he briefly trailed off. "Well, I got nominated. A lot of responsibility, I'll grant you, but wouldn't have it any other way."

"The Perfect Circle?"

"Hunter leadership," he explained. "Named because it always expands and contracts as needed. Departments are created or shut down depending on the threat. No better shape to represent that than a circle; always fits the mission perfectly. Lots of spooks and explorers. Good people – hope you'll end up joining us when you get your new body."

He finished the last of his ramen, and met her eyes. "Look, I know I don't come off as professional as the others – trust me, I never hear the end of it. Thing is, I don't see the point of taking the higher roles if you have to change everything you are. I'm a people person, I like talking with everyone from the blue boss to the shipdock engineer. Rank is a dumb concept, and I've never been one for rules that didn't make sense." He shrugged. "Also helps me keep a bit perspective. Always was afraid of someone treating me as a number on a spreadsheet when I was at the bottom. I try to remember that now that I'm running things. Think that's what the Traveler would want. Speaker seems to agree."

One eye slightly widened, like a raised eyebrow if he was a Human. "Anyway, I've run this for a few years now and haven't burned it down, so I'd say I'm doing alright. Now, my turn for questions. What part are you at in the Speaker's tale?"

"A city was just destroyed with a nuclear weapon, and…a lot of the Traveler's chosen died," she said.

"He's taking his sweet time getting to the good part, isn't he," Cayde muttered, before clearing his throat. "Well, you've got a ride ahead of you. Won't spoil how it ends, but has any of it jogged any memories?"

She shook her head. "None."

"Shame," he said. "But not surprising, I suppose."

"Why did you ask?"

"We have a Seraph coming to visit soon, if you'd been caught up, I'd make an introduction," he said, his voice taking on an air of drama. "Agent of Rasputin. Very smug, very dangerous, very irritating on a personal level."

"And you wanted me to…meet him?"

"Her, and I thought it could be a good way to ease you into some of the things going on," he explained. "Because I'm sure the Speaker has been keeping you in the dark on the modern-day goings-on. Which I agree with, don't want to overwhelm you with stuff you have no idea about. Still, word of advice – don't talk to any Seraph alone."

"Why?"

"Seraphs are always looking for others to be assimilated – ah, sorry, join them in directly working for their benevolent overlord," Cayde explained dryly. "Thing is, they're good speakers. That is, when they're not being smug in their own inherent superiority complexes."

Patriot-3 had the impression that Cayde had once had a bad experience with one of these Seraphs – though, like he had said, she knew little of Rasputin now outside of his existence. She was also curious about the other Warminds that had been mentioned. Had they all been destroyed by the Darkness? Before then?

Or maybe they were still around?

It was difficult to say, though she knew she'd get answers shortly. "Well, think that's all for tonight," he said, standing, as Patriot-3 joined him. "Thanks for indulging me – much as it was my mistake. Glad to actually talk a bit more beyond our awkward interactions when I come and interrupt you and the Speaker."

"Thank you, I'm glad we talked," she said. "And…when I do get my body, I would like to pick out my food."

"Ha, that's a plan then," he bumped her on the shoulder. "Anyway, I've got a million or so things to review tonight – I'd invite you, but it's classified, unfortunately. Have fun wandering the Tower – if you're looking for a primer on modern Exo models, it's on Level 7. Don't want you to wander around for six hours like you did last night."

She cocked her head. "How do you know that?"

"I command the Hunters," he said simply, his face in an approximation of a smile. "There is very little that we do not know here. Don't worry – you get used to it. But don't forget – the Perfect Circle is always watching." He paused, glanced up. "That…was unnecessarily menacing. Thinking of it as more of a 'protective', or 'helpful', or…" he held up his hands. "Or, I'm just going to stop talking. Have a good night, Patriot-3."

With that, he turned and left, leaving her standing alone, thinking on the conversation.

Quite an odd person indeed.

Level 7 then. That was what she would be doing tonight. With how Cayde had talked about his body, and the senses he enjoyed, she was more looking forward to it than she had expected. She might as well know all there was to know, and then tomorrow, she would hear the next part of the Speaker's tale.

Hopefully, this time it wouldn't end in a cliffhanger.


TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER XVI | WARMIND