The journey to Trostland had taken longer than expected. Not because their new acquaintance was having trouble keeping up, but because he seemed to not understand the concept of subtlety or that he could let Fallen patrols go by without immediately ambushing them afterward. They had gotten tangled up in several fights where reinforcements had shown up and dragged things on even longer, and by this point every living thing in the EDZ probably knew where they were.

But they were getting close, as was evident by the fact they could see the near-constant coming and going of Cabal dropships from the Red Legion remnants' base in the area. Luckily they were approching from such a direction that they wouldn't have to go past it – the armoured stranger, whose name was apparently "Iathiel" would surely try to pick a fight there, and the remnants in that base were a lot less forgiving than the Fallen. Althen had a personal theory that whatever ship they had up in orbit actively aimed for Guardians when launching drop pods, and she knew she wasn't alone in this. Guardians, however, at least could get up from being made one with the ground like that, after a fashion.

Iathiel had also noticed the dropships, it seemed, but an anecdote from Tirren about running into three or so Harvester gunships near that base and being stuck inside one of the bunkers with no rocket launcher ammo until a passing fireteam drew them away dampened his enthusiasm to go and, in his words, "clear the filth out of their warren" significantly. They might have a chance to reach Trostland without him getting himself killed after all.

Devrim Kay's day had not been particularly eventful, all things considered, so he was reasonably pleased to receive a call from Tirren's ghost telling him the patrol fireteam he had been expecting for a little while now was on the final stretch before Trostland, and that they'd found something strange, but not a bad strange. This could be quite interesting, he thought to himself.

He turned at a noise behind him, down on the ground floor of the church. A Hunter in very scrappy gear had slipped on one of the makeshift platforms that led up to his perch in the tower and fallen down to the ground. She had been around earlier, evidently newly resurrected and still getting the hang of Guardian things, so Devrim had been trying to offer whatever aid he could. Which largely boiled down to being someone other than a ghost to talk to, breaking open one of his remaining weapons caches, and directing her to another cache which hadn't rusted as badly when he last saw it, which the Fallen who kept turning up in the tunnels below the church had stolen a week or so before. It made him miss the times when the town of Trostland had been swarming with Guardians during the Red War, keeping the streets clear, finding ever more ridiculous places to dance and sharing news with him. Of course, there were still Guardians around here, mostly the newly revived who seemed drawn to the town for some reason but also the occasional veterans who stuck around for a while to help the newly revived find their footing, providing guidance on how they could use their Light, but it wasn't really the same. Since Cayde-6's death the latter had dried up – from what one veteran Guardian had told him, the Awoken out in the Reef had had their homeland overtaken by undead Fallen and the Taken, and needed every little bit of help they could get.

Which meant that the fireteam approaching Trostland now was this new Hunter's best bet for getting some useful guidance on the things he couldn't help with. He shifted over to the balcony and called down. "Ah, Guardian! How did it go?" The Hunter said nothing, but waved a camouflage-painted auto rifle over her head triumphantly. She seemed to have picked up a cape that provided better protection from the elements down there as well – most likely another thing the Fallen down there had stolen a while back. "The Fallen didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

This time her ghost replied. "Wellll... they didn't make it easy, but we managed pretty well I'd say."

He nodded. "That's good to hear. I've got some good news for you as well, there's a couple of more experienced Guardians ending a long-haul patrol here that should be arriving at some point today. They should be able to at least help give some guidance on using your Light, and give you a lift back to the City." He checked his watch. "And it looks like we've got a minute and a half before the Cabal launch their attempt to take the town for the day. You might be interested in getting involved, but the Fallen usually respond quickly, so if you do, watch for crossfire."

Sure enough, a minute and a half later the first drop pods slammed into the ground near the cliff. They were punctual, he would give them that, even if their attempts rarely achieved much. He joked about being able to set his watch by them, but given that he had done that several times in the past...

It was late in the afternoon and raining heavily by the time the Guardians and Iathiel reached the church and made their way inside. They found Devrim and the newly-revived Hunter sat around a portable heating element on which a kettle was boiling water. He waved them over once he saw them coming into sight, removing some odds and ends from the overturned piece of furniture that might once have been a cabinet next to him to make room.

"Had a pleasant journey, I hope? You've missed the first round of tea, I'm afraid, but the next one shouldn't be too long." His gaze drifted over to Iathiel, whose presence was hard to ignore. "I'll admit, when you said you'd found something strange, I wasn't expecting it to be a knight in shining armour. They're not a Guardian are they?"

Althen shrugged. "Not unless he's somehow lost the entirety of his Light and memory. He says he's an agent of... what was it?" She turned to Tirren, who took over.

"The Secreta Secretorum, whatever that is. Or an organisation under their command called E.Y.E. Or a group within that group called the Culter Dei. We still haven't gotten a coherent explanation, partly because I think he's not supposed to be sharing that information." He glanced over his shoulder to check if Iathiel had reacted to that – he hadn't, even if he had heard it, instead opting to scrape something out of a joint in his armour. "What we do know for certain is that he hadn't the faintest idea what Light, the Fallen... most things, really, are before meeting us. If what he says is true, he woke up in the warehouse where we found him not too long before we passed by. The warehouse was full of Fallen, so not much idea how he ended up there without something like transmat."

Devrim stroked his chin. "That is strange. I've not seen armour like that anywhere, and that's saying something with how many Guardians I've seen come through these parts in the past."

"It gets weirder." Althen continued. "He used some sort of... 'PSI-force', he called it, to cause some of the Fallen to turn on each other, and from the sounds of it has enough cybernetics in him that you could probably stick fridge magnets to him. Honestly I'm surprised he didn't just leap up here from the ground floor in a single bound, it's... a bit ridiculous, even by Guardian standards."

They were interrupted by Iathiel coughing quietly. "That banner down there, it's similar to the ones the Fallen had elsewhere. Any particular reason it's still there?"

"Ah, it's been there since I set up shop here." Devrim replied. "Didn't seem worth taking it down, it makes the place look a little less plain. Besides, the Fallen in the tunnels below seem intent on it staying there, the few times Guardians tried taking it down they just replaced it a while later."

"Tunnels below this place? How extensive?"

"Not very extensive to my knowledge. My friend here-" he gestured to the Hunter, who was staring at the newcomers in fascination, "went down and cleared them out earlier today in... I'd say no more than a quarter of an hour. The Fallen have probably found their way back in there by now, nothing really seems to stick when it comes to dislodging them from there."

"That hatch over there, it lead to those tunnels?" Iathiel pointed. Devrim had barely started to answer in the affirmative before he was cut off. "Nnnice. Well, I'll just pop down there and give the scum the kicking in the teeth they need. Won't take a moment. Keep an eye on my Scrab." Unholstering his twin pistols, he jumped nonchalantly down from the church tower and disappeared down through the hatch.

"What a strange person." Devrim was evidently a bit nonplussed. "I get the very distinct feeling he's going to be trouble."

"Probably." Althen sighed heavily. "I got the impression that he was seriously considering that this could all be a dream. What was it he said again?"

"'It's not like this'd be the first time someone got stuck in some bizarre world deep within their psyche'. Not his exact words, his were a little more... colourful." Tirren coughed, and tried to change the subject. "So who's this? Looks like a newly minted Hunter, has she gotten past the 'has her ghost do the talking for her' phase?"

The Hunter seemed to shrink a little now that attention had shifted to her. Her ghost piped up. "Yes, we've been exploring Trostland and learning the ropes! Partly by trial and error. Devrim was hoping you'd be willing to give us a lift back to the City, since it's been a while since any other Guardians were around and they're out of spare jumpships at the Farm. Maybe you could help us with some of the finer details of using the Light as well...?"

Althen chuckled. "If there's one thing I learned pretty quickly, it's that Hunter and Titan techniques are surprisingly different, despite how similar some aspects look on the surface. I can help with grenades and punching things, but really you'd be better off with someone who knows the mindset. Really, I wouldn't fret too much about it. From what I've heard other Hunters say, it's one of those things you figure out in your own time, but having some guidance from someone who knows the ropes doesn't hurt. Might take a bit of doing to find a Hunter who's sticking around in the City – most of the time they just stop by to drop off their loot into their vault, grab some bounties and then disappear off again – but again, you'll figure it out one way or another."

"You might even be better off without a mentor." Tirren added. "Hunters can be a bit... obtuse with regards to that sort of thing, and by that I mean it's not uncommon for them to drop a newbie in at the deep end and rescue them if it looks like they're sinking instead of swimming. Hell, one story I hea- ow! What was that for?"

"It might not be the greatest idea to tell her all your horror stories about Hunter teaching methods, especially given you heard them from the Hunters being taught, yeah? Especially given how they like to embellish stories."

They were interrupted by the kettle starting to whistle.

"Ah, there we go." Devrim said with satisfaction. "I hope you don't mind your tea without milk – I haven't been able to get hold of much this week, and ran out a couple of days ago." He set about pouring several cups of tea, producing some battered enameled metal cups and a few teabags. "I do appreciate your helping her. As much as I would like to help further, there is only so much I can do. Besides, it's rather lonely out here, and though I know Hunters have a reputation for being loners I can't help but feel having some more socialisation will do her good." He paused. "Do you think our heavily-armoured friend will want any tea?" Seeing both Guardians shrug, he continued. "Well, I'll pour him one anyway. If he doesn't want it, well... all the more for me, I suppose." He grinned.

The Hunter's ghost winked into existence again. "I'm sure we'll enjoy going to the City! I've heard so much about it from Guardians in the field while I was searching for my Guardian. Like how there's an entire street that's nothing but ramen shops, all run by frames, and how there's actually a secret Golden Age armoury hidden behind Banshee-44's stockroom, and how the sweeping frames in the Tower are secretly planning a coup, and how the cryptarch is a stingy... uhhh." The little light's thoughts had evidently just caught up with its motor mouth, prompting some laughter.

"Oh yeah, Master Rahool." Tirren chuckled. "Yeah, there's a saying among Guardians that he can extract anything – absolutely anything – from an engram... except anything you actually want or need." This prompted some more snickering from Althen, and Tirren made an exagerrated shrugging gesture. "I haven't seen much proof against it being true, more's the pity!"

Althen straightened up a bit. "Heh heh... ah, joking aside, that one about there being an entire street of ramen shops, that one's actually true. Nobody knows why it's like that, not even the frames running the shops, and it's apparently been that way for a long, long time. Just goes to show, I guess... sometimes truth is as strange as tall tales."

A number of heavy footfalls heralded Iathiel's return, followed by his sudden appearance jumping up from the ground to Devrim's lookout spot. ("Knew he'd do that sooner or later," Althen muttered, before being shushed by Tirren) He was carrying an engram somewhat roughly under one arm, glowing green. There was a brief, awkward pause.

Eventually he broke the silence with a fleeting air of frustration. "I've cleared out the basement of the Fallen infesting it. Despite running out of bullets halfway through the job. Don't get how you people never seem to run out. Space magic cover that too?" There was another pause, during which an eye roll was almost audible within his helmet, then he lifted the engram. "Anyway, I found this thing. No idea what it is, doesn't look like any material I've seen before... except maybe hardlight, but that requires a power source. Didn't seem to react to being knocked against a wall either."

"Oh, that's an engram." Tirren spoke up, ever eager to explain things. "As I understand it, it's a kind of compressed data lattice, a fourth or fifth state of matter..." He trailed off, sensing somehow that this was not the kind of explanation that was wanted. "It's basically a container that stores stuff as data. Usually loot of some kind. They have to be decrypted before you can get at the stuff inside, but most of the time a ghost can do that... whiiich would explain why you weren't able to get it open. On a sidenote, ammo boxes work kind of the same, except with pretty much no encryption, so you don't need a ghost to get the bullets out of it."

"Ah-h-h. So it has to be hacked open?" Iathiel turned the engram over in his hands. "Weird fucking way to store things, what kind of...?" He stopped short. "Waaaait a moment. Wait just a moment. Ammo boxes that work similarly to this? Would they happen to be small, box-like, glowing white and occasionally green?" Tirren started to nod, but barely got to open his mouth before being interrupted. "Why the fuck was I not made aware of this sooner? Would it have killed you to fucking tell me somewhere along the way from those shitty little warehouses to this dump?"

The Warlock brought his hands up in a placatory gesture. "I... kinda assumed you already knew, seeing as you didn't seem to be having ammo problems at any point along the way."

There was a loud metallic thud as Iathiel's free hand and helmet collided violently. "Ffffucking... alright, look, this may be the most obvious thing to most but every single storage slot I had was either taken up by the pistols, my medkit, or all the spare magazines for the pistols that I had on me. Enough bullets to clear the entirety of New Eden of streumonic bullshit, and then some." He made a motion that would have been pinching the bridge of his nose if his helmet hadn't been in the way. "OK, fine. Not like lack of bullets was too much of an inconvenience, it's fortunate I've always got a sword on me, but... fegh. Next time, I'd like to know about shit like this before it bites me in the arse. Anyway. This engram thing, get it open for me. I don't have the patience to hack even the most poorly-secured of doors right now."

Tirren caught the thrown engram, turned it over delicately, then summoned his ghost, which flickered rays of light over the polyhedral storage device. It seemed to melt away and reshape itself, coming to rest a moment later in the shape of a bullpup rifle with a suppressor mounted on the muzzle – a pulse rifle. He paused, looking it over, before getting up and handing it over to the waiting armoured figure. "Well, that brings back memories. Didn't think Cassoid still made the old Psi Ferox series. Unless that thing's somehow managed to stay hidden down there through Traveller knows how many Guardians searching for loot..."

Catching the weapon roughly, Iathiel gave it a quick once over, tested its weight, and pointed it at the window experimentally. Then he checked the magazine, prompting a silent groan from Devrim. Sure, Guardians not understanding basic gun safety was nothing new, but that didn't make it any less disappointing whenever things like this happened. Fortunately the magazine was empty, but this didn't make it any better.

The Guardians and Iathiel stuck around for a couple of hours, the Guardians and Devrim sharing news and stories, the E.Y.E. agent tinkering with his Scrabouillor away from the rest of the group. At last they said their goodbyes and set about preparing for the trip back to the City – sleeping on actual beds was not something they wanted to delay for any longer than necessary. Althen, unfortunately, drew the short straw when deciding who would take who in their jumpship, and ended up having to put up with Iathiel's grumbling about ammo boxes for the entirety of the mercifully short journey.