Ulysses could not remember how much time had passed since his last meeting with the elites to discuss the retrieval of his precious creation and lieutenant from Skull Island, and perhaps that was for the best. Considering how his nights had been plagued by the damnable nightmares and his days were riddled with the voices, Ulysses supposed he could not exactly say anything about it.
Especially not when El Dorado was so close at hand.
Laying the second to last map piece within the reinforced glass case, Ulysses closed it with a click: white smoke rising from the cracks as the case sealed itself up, even tighter by the lock Septimus added onto it.
So close, only one more piece is required for the map to be completed. Once the map is completed, El Dorado will belong to the Armada... El Dorado, the island of pure gold that should have been the property of the Armada and of the Valencian Empire long ago, the goal that my lord had worked so diligently to reach.
Ulysses traced his fingers over the outline of the case, of the map pieces laying within it.
To think he had dedicated his entire life to completing this ancient document.
His fingers curled into a fist, the rage that had been pounding through him ever since he had witnessed the death of the Supreme Commander a year ago bubbling to the surface.
Those fools had marked him as a monster simply for the fact that he was attempting to do something right. Ignorant, ungrateful fools! Without him, there would be no Valencia, there would be no freedom in the Spiral!
"Fottuto bastardi."
A rather painful jolt shot up his arm, and it was only then that Ulysses realized that his fist had slammed into the wall in the midst of his heated rage. This was not the first time this had happened, if he remembered correctly, though this certainly was a much better end than himself losing control completely (he was almost certain he had lost count of the number of times he had lost control of himself entirely).
But this is not a time for me to dwell on the rage left behind from the past, is it? I am the Supreme Commander now, I am the Lord of the Armada, their leader that they look to for direction, and the last thing the Armada needs is a unstable leader on the throne.
It had taken quite some effort to tear himself away from the display case and the chamber, closing the door behind him with a solid click.
His legs carried him down the hallways as if he was on some sort of autopilot, passing clockwork patrols of marines, musketeers and battle angels, each of them never failing to salute in acknowledgement of his position as their Supreme Commander.
Curving around the corner of one of the hallways, the corners of Ulysses' lips twitched up into a smile.
I've long lost count of how many of those Resistance fools perished believing that the Royal Guards would not react fast in time to protect me.
A sense of pride welled up within Ulysses' chest at the thought. The Royal Guards were mass produced by hand, based upon one of the first designs Ulysses had created while he served the Supreme Commander Kane as an Armada Commodore, shortly after his mansion was first razed by Adrian.
The memories turned the smile upside down into a scowl.
His memories became clearer with each second that he thought back upon them, surreal clarity of each and every sound, every sensation he had ever experienced within each of the memories. Vividly, he recalled how he had scaled the walls of Monteriggioni, nearly falling the rest of the way off of the wall halfway down: the brush of the sand against his face, the way his robes were plastered to his skin by the furious sweat as he fled from the doomed fortress -
A single Royal Guard opened the door to the war council chamber, saluting him and stepping back.
The door closed after him upon Ulysses stepping through.
All of the elites were present, each of them snapping into the Armada salute.
"Supreme Commander."
Never had Ulysses felt so tired upon seating in the throne - like seat that belonged to him, fatigue seemingly rushing up his spine and through every fibre of his being, although Ulysses still forced himself to sit up in the straight, dignified stance that one would expect of the Supreme Commander of the Armada. He was still their leader, the Emperor of the Valencian Empire, and therefore everything else could wait, even if it meant he would continue to deteriorate, rot away within his own mind.
He held out one hand, the gesture for his elites to take their seats around the table: several hologram projectors sat on the table, each marked with a separate symbol to represent a different world, on switching on after the other to show the face of respective governors of the worlds, heads of the respective Assassin branches of said worlds.
"As you all may know, there is only one last piece of the map left out of our hands."
One last piece of map, one last obstacle before the Spiral belongs to the Armada.
"I want the effort of finding this last piece increased thrice, El Dorado must not be allowed to fall into Templar hands."
Ulysses' masked gaze scanned over each one of the elites in the chamber, then the governors of the Assassin branches. There was no need for words for each and every one of the officers to acknowledge his newly issued command.
"Supreme Commander, if I may add."
Bishop's rasp of a voice scratched over the air of the council chamber, prompting every head in the room to turn toward the high mage of the Armada.
"Do we even have a lead for the recovery of the final piece of the map? And why worry about the Templar threat when their forces are already pushed into the very last corners of the Spiral by us, by you?"
Ulysses would have winced, if he had not pushed that reaction back.
"As long as they are there, there is a chance that they will strike back at us and upset the balance of the Empire."
His voice was a steady monotone when he spoke, something which Ulysses could only ever be infinitely more grateful for the mask over his face for. This mask was constricting, it kept everyone else from seeing his true face, yes, and not very many, if there were any, bothered looking beyond this mask of his to see the scars he carried with him, and the sense of guilt that was all but crushing him. Yet, at the same time it also seemed to protect him in a way, seeing how his weakness would have been exposed for the world to see without it.
"Speaking of which - "
Ulysses turned his attention to Deacon.
"Has any information been learned of the whereabouts of Captain Quintia Presidos and Sentus Optimus?"
"It does not appear that they are under Templar captivity, Supreme Commander, as none of my spies have ever found any traces of them so far."
Ulysses' heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.
"Very well, keep up the search efforts."
The Supreme Commander's gaze turned to the rest of the officers.
"Meeting adjourned."
The elites dispersed silently, leaving Ulysses once more in the chamber, alone with his thoughts.
As if on command, Ulysses gasped like he was a fish taken out of the water, his hands in a death grip around the arms of his throne. Nothing else was needed to drive Septimus into more fear and panic than the news of this: uncertainty was horrifying, completely and absolutely horrifying when it comes to not knowing what was the wereabouts of two of his treasured officers.
"Have faith in them, Creatore, even though the situation may not look optimal as of now."
It stands to reason that Servius could understand me better than most, after all, he is built based upon my emotions.
"..."
Ulysses could only bring himself to reply in silence. There were far too many thoughts surging through his mind in that moment, possibilities of what could have happened to them, what sick ways Atticus might have thought up to torment them. After all, he had all but mangled every inch of flesh on Septimus' back, leaving behind numerous gashes that still remained as scars upon Ulysses' flesh, when he was locked within the dungeons of the Templar Grandmaster.
"You speak such as though you aren't worried for them."
Servius went silent, although the Supreme Commander's eyes picked up on the subtle way the young lieutenant Commander tensed -
"Do not lie to me, Servius."
"I - "The elite sniper's pale fingers tightened around the rifle in his hands, his lower lip trembling until he finally spoke again. "I admit, I fear for them as well, Creator."
Just like you fear for me, isn't it?
"I had thought so as well."
The Triumvirate was made to never be separated, they were designed to be the three parts of a singular being...
Ulysses rose from his throne, pivoting so his back faced the elite sniper.
"If anything is to happen to them, I guarantee, it will not end well for those fools."
He spat out the last words of his sentence with a sort of hiss. Oh what pain he would bring on both Adrian Devereaux and Mercilus if they really did lay a hand on either one of them - !
"You are dismissed."
After all, he still needed to finish working on Aetius Varius, and more so than ever with the recent events transpired. And so, without even looking back, the Supreme Commander stepped out of the war council chamber, his coat sweeping against his ankle with every step and stride down the hallway of Cadiz leading to the chamber where Aetius' incomplete shape laid in wait -
The door closed behind him, clicking shut and locking.
So close to finishing him, I truly cannot afford to mess up at this point.
Ulysses quickly shed the heavily decorated uniform coat form his shoulders, draping it over the back of one of the nearby chairs; yanking off the gloves from his hands.
There were only a few crucial steps left to Aetius' construction -
Cybernetic fingers caressed the intricate little item sitting upon his workstation. To anyone else, it would not seem particularly special upon first glimpse, though upon a much closer inspection, it would be revealed that it was far more than just a bundle of gears, wires, metal, and crystal twisted together in one elegant mess (at that, Ulysses inwardly laughed, bitterly and silently: oh how fitting it was to say about himself, that he was a elegant mess at this point in time).
Flexible tubing formed the aorta, the superior vena cava, and the pulmonary artery and veins. Gears lined the surface, gears which would drive each other as the blood was pumped through the atriums and ventricles, both lined with crystal in order to ensure that the blood flowing through would have a smooth passage, and therefore rush to the limbs more quickly, giving faster reaction time with each powerful pump of the heart.
Crafting such an intricate little mechanism was by no means an easy task, especially when Ulysses was in his current state, how his fingers trembled with every little action he took: nearly causing him to drop some of his tools at times.
The heart was incomplete at this second, however, as it required careful work to ensure that every single detail of it was correct. One small mistake could very well destroy the entire project he spent so long to work on and given so much up for -
Ulysses flexed his shoulders, a long sigh escaping his lips. The kinks in his back slowly worked themselves out, slowly though surely. With the heart finished, there was only little left to do in order to conclude Aetius' construction, mostly adding the last finishing touches after the heart was installed within his chest and connected to the system of veins and bloodpaths within him.
"A sacrifice of blood, one to permanently bind us together."
Gripping onto the dagger that he usually carried with him by his left hand, Septimus brought it up and pressed the blade down on his own pale skin, slitting open his thumb and allowing several large droplets of blood to flow and drip onto the opening of the aorta tubing.
The blood disappeared into the tubing the same style as water would into sponge.
One by one, the gears clicked into action, the heart pulsating within the palm of his hand yet somehow not spilling one drop of the blood it carried (which now filled the tiny mechanism): tha-dump, tha-dump.
It was only a simple task to turn his chair around, raise, and then set the heart into the currently open chest cavity, connecting each of the tubes up with the appropriate openings until he could see the blood being pumped through Aetius' entire frame: closing the open chest cavity and sealing it with another one of the nearby machines.
Ulysses took a moment to admire his handiwork.
Laid out on the table before him, straight and silent, was the pale form of the first clockwork Assassin. Every detail of his form matched that of the Supreme Commander himself, save for the numerous scars that covered Septimus' torso, with his lithe form, made for grace and agility as well as strength.
"Maestro Assassino Aetius Varius Septimus."
Ulysses breathed the words out, tracing a single finger along the outline of Aetius' jaw. Varius was made to be in every way a perfect replica of Septimus, even in the facial appearance with his strong jawline and sharp nose, with a dark corona of black and silver around his eyes to represent his position as a prototype clockwork Assassin -
All strength suddenly was drained from Ulysses' legs, forcing the Supreme Commander down to his knees -
NO! WHY MUST THESE HALLUCINATIONS INSIST ON HAUNTING ME?!
Once more, the scene played out before his eyes, reminding him, taunting him.
Once more, he watched in horror as Kane fell before his eyes. There was nothing he could do save for stand there in mortification and watch it all unfold, just like before -
I am a failure, a failure! I could have stopped this from happening, I could have... If only I was just a little quicker! If I had taken action sooner, if I wasn't a foolish, imperfect human, perhaps Monteriggioni could have remained standing. Oh Dio, forgive me, Supreme Commander, I have failed you and the Armada... Forgive me, Ezio, forgive me I could not have saved you: you gave me time to escape in order so that I could bring aide and turn around the battle of Monteriggioni, and I only returned too late. Perhaps I could fix it all by finding and putting those bastards that had slain my Commander to death, but would that fix anything...? It would not bring him back, the same way that the deaths of those nine Templars would not bring my brother back to me -
"But you are the oh so powerful ruler of the Valencian Empire, are you not?"
The images faded out from before him, leaving Ulysses gasping softly for breath, his right hand gripping the edge of the table for dear life. No matter how many times those hallucinations came to plague him, there was no escaping the guilt, the fear that would pound through his mind, until the voices dispelled those wretched images.
"You are the lord of two crowns, the Supreme Commander of the entire Assassin Order, and the King of Valencia. Even if you may not amend for what has happened in the past with your current actions, you can still make them pay for what they have done to you, pay in the price of blood like the Nine had."
Power, yes, he had power, he had all the power a man could ever hope to possess at his disposal, all the power he could ever want to put his enemies through all the pain they deserved.
Pain to his enemies...
The thought drew a laugh from his throat - a terrifying, maniacal sound.
More Supreme Commander Ulysses. Poor thing, he's just losing his mind slowly and slowly, isn't he? And yes, Aetius Varius is about close to completion, I do assure you all, Aetius will play a much greater role in this than you can imagine, but what kind of role you will have to check back to see later. ;)
Later!
-Hades