0345 AM.
This was a time at which humans were usually fast asleep in their beds, curled up under the warmth and security of their covers.
But not Ulysses, or more precisely, the Supreme Commander Kane II.
The Supreme Commander of the Armada was still seated upon his throne, even after most of Valencia had dropped into a deep slumber and the clockworks he commanded had gone off to do their assigned duties at night.
His masked gaze turned from Deacon to Rooke and his mentor Cristobal Auditore.
"It's been far too long."
Both of his hands tightened around the armrests of his golden throne, each of the elites acknowledging his words in respectful silence. No more words were needed for them to know the severity of the situation.
More than a week has passed since Quintia and Sentus Optimus were sent off to capture Atticus Mercilus and Adrian Devereaux.
They should have returned approximately three days ago.
And knowing what the Templars were capable of doing to their prisoners, it was impossible for Ulysses to find a reason to not panic.
"Are you suggesting that we send out a force to find them, Commander?"
It was Deacon who had spoken, shifting his grip on his walking stick as he cast the other elites a sideways look: the spymaster had always been the first one to come to a conclusion.
Ulysses nodded once.
"There is no certainty as to what those Templars will do to them, if given too much time."
"But if I may, Commander."
Cristobal pursed his lips, still twirling the drafting compass between his fingers as he seemed to consider what he had to say next.
"Let's say that they really are under the imprisonment of the Templar Grand Master Mercilus - if we are to act up too hastily, we could very well seal their doom."
At the final word of his mentor, the Supreme Commander could not help it, his hands tightened dangerously around the armrests of his throne, almost to a point of denting the metal, for it was quite possible that his precious creation had fallen into the hands of his greatest enemy.
His enemy who was not above tearing everyone apart,if he thought any of their deaths would hurt Ulysses in anyway.
This situation is just hanging on the edge of a cliff, is it not?
One wrong step, and everything would fall apart immediately.
"Then we shall wait no more than one more week."
Those words passing through his lips felt more like knives than anything, cutting his flesh and prodding at what remained of his heart, even after nearly an entire year of recuperating from the wounds. Nothing struck him harder than having to hold back, when his children could possibly be hurt, or even terminated.
"After one more week, if there is still no news from them, General Rooke, I want you to take a team of our elite soldiers and storm the ruins."
Ulysses' gaze scanned over his elites once more.
"Meeting adjourned."
As the elites retreated from the chamber, the Supreme Commander rose from his golden throne:
It certainly did not take anything more than being reminded of the fact that he was powerless before so many things, before this situation and of what battles that currently raged on within his mind, to drag the Supreme Commander's mind back onto the still incomplete form of the first clockwork Assassin.
He needed to complete him as soon as possible, for -
I dread to think of what would happen if my family is left without a leader.
Just that thought alone sent a shiver down the Supreme Commander's back, as he traversed his way down the darkened hallways by pure memory alone. Every kingdom, every military needed a leader.
Turn left, second door on the right.
The chamber was no more than a few feet away from his office and bedchamber; and he silently closed the door behind him as he entered.
For some unknown reason, the Supreme Commander found himself nearly sprinting over to the cloth covered shape on the table, even though the door had always been kept locked, and the key in no one else's hand but his own; releasing a relieved sigh when he noticed that the nearly complete form of the clockwork Assassin was just as how he left him.
"You will rise soon enough, Aetius, as the greatest, the strongest of my creations."
I must be losing it, talking to a clockwork that is not even complete.
Some part of Ulysses was tempted to laugh at this, at how far his own mind seemed to have fallen as he returned to working on the clockwork Assassin: reinforcing some of his skeletal structure, adding a few extra gears here and there to give him more agility and strength.
It was truly ironic, in a way, that he had fallen so far, yet this was also the time when he would bring in his strongest creation yet, while the time when he was halfway sane, he nearly messed up in creating Servius.
Irony at its finest, isn't this?
If it was not for that Septimus was currently in the middle of adding the final touches onto Aetius' right hand wrist, he would have allowed himself an airy laugh.
Like how he had so many times before when he was secluded and alone in his own chambers -
The pain shot through Ulysses' skull, its intensity strong enough to be compared to the sensation of someone driving a flaming spear into his flesh.
NO! Not at this of all times!
Another one of those damned hallucinations!
The Supreme Commander's right hand tightened around the edge of the table to the point where his knuckles turned white from the strength he was using.
It was almost impossible to tell the difference between reality and hallucination, as the details of the image became more and more vivid before his eyes. By whatever god there is, he could see the image of his master and king dead in front of him, every drop of blood, every detail of the enormous wound torn through his chest.
Stop it.
The image just seemed to be even more vivid, with each of Ulysses' mental pleas for it to stop and for it to leave him be.
STOP.
"It's in your hands now, Supreme Commander..."
The former Supreme Commander's last words echoed again, and again through Ulysses' mind. Just as much as those accursed voices did, haunting his every second -
Are these nightmares not enough already?!
Nightmares by the evening, voices and hallucinations by the morning, was there no end to all of this torment?!
Cease this torment! Has I not suffered enough already?
Ulysses gasped the way a fish out of water would, one hand brought up against his throat as though some invisible force was attempting to choke him. This was not exactly far from the truth: ever since the death of Kane, it was as though a metaphorical boulder had been dropped onto his chest. It crushed his ribcage, flattened his lungs to a point where Ulysses could only gasp and choke for air.
Thankfully, however, the images relented soon after, dropping him back into reality.
Septimus allowed his eyes to close for a second, as he tried to regain control over his gasping breaths.
Damned hallucinations, damned voices! Make all of this stop!
He turned his gaze to the skeleton form on the table. Yes, he needed to finish Aetius, he needed to finish the prototype: if this continued on, there would be no telling of how much longer what little bit of sanity and logic he still had could last.
Forcing himself back up, back into his work, his art, Ulysses only stopped when a thin, pale hand shot out, grasping his wrist.
"Commander..."
Crimson eyes met void - like ones. Damn it, had he really gotten that loud?
"What is it, Servius?"
Ulysses jerked his wrist back from the musketeer officer's thin fingered hands, only sparing him one more glance from the side of his vision.
"Commander... I truly worry about you."
The Supreme Commander inwardly cursed, nearly dropping the gear that he was about to insert into the shoulder joint of the incomplete clockwork Assassin -
"I am perfectly stable."
Finish this, finish this, finish this...
Some part of Ulysses nagged at him. This was suspiciously like history repeating itself, for had not this very same thing happened when he was in the middle of creating Quintia? Ulysses was almost certain of this.
"Commander, please, cease tormenting yourself with all of this."
Tormenting myself? How funny-! What makes you think so, Servius? The fact I am wearing a mask and no one but a few seem to be able to look under it? Such is needed, for I am nothing short of a failure and an imperfect fool, when compared to the god Supreme Commander Kane was...
"Servius, I command you to drop this matter, there are much greater things to worry about than me!"
Ulysses had only registered that he snapped at him after several seconds.
"I am your Creator and your Commander, do not speak to me of this matter any more!"
Things aren't looking good, are they? Poor poor Servius having to watch his worst fear unfold before his eyes, as the Supreme Commander of the Armada spirals downward even more. At least it does look like Aetius is near completion, or does it? Check back next chapter to see ;) you won't want to miss this next update.
Reviews are much appreciated! :D Until next time!
-Hades