It would be several hours, two at the very least, before Aetius took his leave of the dungeons below the deck of the Spector. It was tedious work to force himself to hold back, to not spill every single drop of the damned traitor's blood onto the floor of the cell he was kept in; the clockwork's gaze shifting from his now bloodied gauntlet to the cyborg spy Secundus.
"Lord Aetius."
Secundus stood and bowed, both in respect to his position and the authority that he currently held. Even with that, however, Aetius noted how the spy's gaze lingered for a brief second upon his bloodied hands. The clockwork assassin supposed that he could not blame him, after all, the cyborg spy was still mostly a human, with human emotions.
"Secundus."
The clockwork assassin made sure to wipe the blood off his hands, although the question still lingered upon his mind -
What does this accomplish?
Aetius Varius could almost not believe that it was he who had inflicted the pain, so much pain, onto the Templar Grandmaster; beating him relentlessly until blood dripped out of the corners of his mouth. This was not him, this was not a defined aspect of the original orders of the Supreme Commander. And yet he had done it, he had went beyond the orders of his creator.
All of these thoughts disappeared from his processor when Secundus' voice sounded once again.
"Lord Aetius, while I have no doubt that the Supreme Commander will be pleased that you have brought two of his greatest foes to justice, I - "Secundus paused, and Varius could see that he was carefully considering his next words by the telltale way his lips thinned and his gaze turned away.
"I cannot help but fear for his stability, I have feared ever since the Supreme Commander Kane perished. I doubt it was there to begin with, even before he enlisted to join the Armada."
Secundus wrung his hands, turning his gaze away from Varius. His lips were trembling, as though something was heavily troubling him. The son of the Supreme Commander dismissed it, however: there was no importance in this, not now, at least. Not when they had two important prisoners on the ship.
"Continue, Secundus, what is it that you wish to speak to me about?"
"Lord Aetius, with all due respect, while I do agree those fools deserve whatever is coming to them, I do not know if Lord Ulysses' mind is stable enough to issue a proper sentence."
Aetius found himself leaning against the side of the Spector, resting his weight on his elbows as his eyes found the spy's. It was impossible for him not to consider, to wonder just how accurate Secundus' words were. Was it not true that Ulysses, his own father and creator, was losing his grip? Varius now recalled all those times he spent pacing around his office, muttering about how he would unleash his vengeance upon those who had wronged him.
The Spiral threads passed by like the many ships in the skyways of Valencia, worlds spinning around in their respective spheres of light. Briefly, Aetius wondered just how similar this was to his creator's thoughts, flying around endlessly, like the worlds would about the void, barely held within range by the invisible chains of gravity.
"In regards to that…I do agree."
Varius winced, the words had felt sharp upon his lips.
"The last time I heard, Lieutenant Commander Servius Decimus tried to talk reason into him, but he did not listen."
Secundus' voice trailed off toward the end of the sentence, unable to continue any longer.
And perhaps that was for the best.
These thoughts flowed through Varius' processor as the Spector pushed through the stormgates of Valencia, into the emerald green world which was the capital of the Valencian Empire. It truly was fitting to say that this was the seat of power of the Armada, the very center of the empire controlled by the careful hands of the clockwork regime. Some part of the Assassin almost wanted to laugh at how foolish the opposers of Valencian power were.
All of this, at least hundreds of thousands of clockwork soldiers, led by a combination of mechanical men and Imperial officers appointed by Ulysses himself. The numbers were stacked against any resistance in all aspects, such that choosing to fight would be considered ridiculous.
And the image of the double doors of the fortress only served to strengthen this thought within Aetius' mind:
Squadrons of clockworks patrolled this area of the fortress, lead by elegantly armored Royal Guard clockworks. Never would they tire, never would they sleep, and always they would stand to guard this fair empire and her people even through the darkest times. It was a foolish, illogical thought to assume that the Valencians were anything but satisfied with their clockwork protectors, as evident by the respect in the eyes of the Valencians as Varius stepped from the Armada ship trailed by the Grand Marshal Rooke.
"Bring the prisoners along, the Supreme Commander will wish to see them."
Rooke's voice boomed across the crowded docking area of the Armada fortress, ringing even above the din of the capital city of Valencia; tapping the end of his halberd almost impatiently on the cobblestones while a group of marines dragged the swashbuckler Adrian Devereaux, thick chains crossing his torso and restraining his arms.
Curses were flying from the swashbuckler's mouth, although the clockwork marines escorting him paid no attention. Neither did Aetius himself, however: there was absolutely no need to, considering that these were merely the death throes of a condemned prisoner whose days were numbered.
The double doors leading into the Armada's primary base of operations swung open, held by the two Royal Guards at the gates.
"Lord Aetius, Grand Marshal."
Octavius Caesarus brought one hand up to his sculpted brow in a crisp Armada salute.
"The Supreme Commander is awaiting your presence in the throne room with the prisoners, Grand Marshal. And Lord Aetius, Lieutenant Commanders Servius Decimus and Albinus Militus would like a few private words with you if you can, in the war council chamber."
Aetius found himself simply nodding at this. Strange as it might be for the Supreme Commander to wish to see the titan General of the Armada while he was the one the Commander had appointed to lead the mission to capture them, Aetius would not question him. Perhaps it was just his ingrained sense of loyalty, to not question the Supreme Commander who was the one that had created him.
So he simply nodded, turned and begun his way down the hall to the war council chamber.
The hallways of Cadiz at this moment were rather empty, save for the occasional clockwork patrol led by the Royal Guards in their black and red armor. No one paid him any attention, something which Aetius could say he was thankful for.
He halted in front of the war chamber before pushing the doors open and stepping through, closing the double doors behind him.
"Brother."
Servius Decimus placed one hand over his chest, directly over the point where his heart would have been, had he been a human. It was almost impossible to read anything from the voids set into his mask - face. However, Aetius could pick up on a trace of what seemed to be nervousness and even sadness.
Of what? What has transpired while I was away...?!
It would be a lie to say that Aetius Varius was not alarmed by all of this. Possibilities flew through his processor at a speed even he could not comprehend, each more morbid than the rest and some even he dared not to examine -
"I regret to inform you that our sister Quintia has been deactivated... Her remains were just sent back to us after you left for the Templar base on Skull Island."
The realization struck Aetius with the impact of a two-ton boulder. It felt as though someone had suddenly yanked the ground out from underneath his feet, sending him spiraling downward with no end in sight, only to fall, fall, and fall forever and ever. And even when the sensation faded away, nothing prepared Aetius to feel the fiery hatred that had coursed through his lines and his processing.
"Atticus Mercilus."
He will pay for all of this, he will feel the pain he has caused…!
Aetius Varius found that he had to fight to control his breathing rate as his heart ached within his chest, aching as though there were knives digging into it and twisting hard.
"Creator took it even harder, brother..."
The clockwork Assassin could swear he felt his heart almost stop, and he slowly pivoted until he faced his other brother Albinus Crassus Militus.
"He was shattered, to say the very least."
Albinus' voice wavered at this, and that alone was enough to drive what felt like yet another blade into his chest. He was usually the one so calm in all situations, the one capable of analyzing even the most dire of situations.
The elite sniper drew in a trembling breath, his slender fingered hands gripping the edge of the table where the elites usually held their meetings. His entire frame was trembling, shivering in the fashion of a man caught outside in the cold, until Servius placed a hand on his shoulder.
Aetius, had he possessed the eyes of a human, was rather certain tears would have escaped him. And perhaps that would have felt better, perhaps it would have released those emotions within him which gnawed at every inch of his flesh with every passing minute.
But there were only voids in his mask - face.
Those dark voids which so many of the Resistance had called soulless depths.
Therefore those emotions could only be left to rot and fester within Aetius Varius' heart.
His heart.
How ironic.
His heart was what gave him his powers as the clockwork assassin, the one and only of his kind. His father and creator's gift to him, Aetius recalled, which perhaps served to make it only that much more ironic.
This source of his power.
This source of his pain.
It ached, it throbbed within his torso, each beat feeling as though a knife was being driven into his flesh.
And it was also in that moment Aetius found himself slumping against the wall; unable to stand any longer. He could not comprehend, it was unjust, unfair-!
What had any of them done to deserve this? What had their creator done to deserve this pain?
The thoughts and the flurry of images of what he would do to the bastard Atticus stopped just as sudden as it had appeared within his processor. -
Only to be replaced by a pain even stronger than the pain of this loss he felt, at the sight of his oldest brother Servius seated in a nearby chair, burying his face in one hand and his entire frame trembling even more so than Albinus had been before.
What greater punishment could there be to watch a sibling suffer, and yet ben unable to help?
Aetius returns for the grave news... Which will be of importance later (evil grins) and who here feels like they want to give poor Servius and Albinus a hug? Poor things after all they went through...
Reviews are appreciated! :D and now until next time!
-Hades