Chapter Ten
Nova Babylon, Lucifaad Territory
Debriefings are one of the few instances where Cyrus enjoyed peace.
The tedious nature of military briefings was a welcome change of pace from the oddities that plagued his new life. He found solace inside any war room, and his gaze constantly wandered over meticulous battle lines and Legion figurines that separated Loyalist and Renegade forces.
When a dialogue began, the Tribunes and attending Legates were never saddled with useless talk of glories or other miscellaneous subjects that didn't need to see the light of day.
They were always short and to the point, relaying vital information without issues or fanfare.
However, Cyrus could have gone without the constant praises for Viktor Nebiros's death and the subsequent dismantling of his network.
The atmosphere in the war room was…suffocating by his assessments.
He desperately searched for an opening to dismiss himself before he lost his damn mind. It certainly didn't help that his right hand had burned something fierce since Viktor's death.
Cyrus tried to ignore the fiery sensations, but his patience began to whither as time passed. He undid the straps keeping his gauntlet in place and peeked at the back of his hand.
Crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion at the tattoo marring his pale pigmentation.
The marking was barely the size of his forehand, and he didn't recognize the letters or symbols etched into his skin.
But he had a sneaking suspicion his newest guest would.
Cyrus ignored Ghislaine's pointed look and deftly slid the gauntlet back into place just in time to receive a beaming smile from his father.
"Congratulations, my boy." Cedric's tone was spoken with such admiration that it caused Cyrus to shuffle awkwardly in place.
"I only performed my duty." Venelana rolled her eyes in amusement.
"Come now, child." The Gremory Matriarch began. "Your actions have ensured that the Loyalists have lost their ability to sabotage our holdings in the Lucifaad territory. Our Garrisons and Legions already report a complete breakdown of militant activity in their respective holdings."
Venelana grasped his shoulder tightly. "This is a victory worth celebrating long into the night."
That was not Cyrus's prerogative.
The Kimaris Heir was ready to take his Cohort and return to the frontline as soon as possible. He passionately despised downtime, preferring to keep himself and his men battle-ready at all possible moments.
Cyrus was moments away from protesting any festivities, but Ghislaine intervened, wrapping a hand around his mouth and muffling his words.
"The 10th Cohort will be more than willing to partake in this celebration."
Ghislaine had committed the ultimate betrayal.
Cyrus would have to kill her to save himself any future embarrassment she was no doubt planning during this 'celebration.'
Arkias and the other Centurions remained silent, unwilling to intervene on their Lord's behalf. Those Legionnaires from Venelana's Cohorts exchanged uncertain looks before opting to maintain their neutrality.
Cyrus jabbed his elbow into Ghislaine's tit, eliciting a yelp of pain and a glare that promised retribution at an unspecified time. He matched her withering stare before turning towards an openly amused Cedric.
"Primarch, my men and I have been away from the Legion long enough. We do not require a trivial celebration when we could be ending this conflict." He ignored the yelp of offense from Venelana at his demeaning statement about her parties.
"Your protests have been taken into account." For the barest moments, Cyrus could imagine a cessation of this ridiculous gathering. "And promptly ignored…."
Truly his family was filled with nothing but traitors to the cause.
"You and your Cohort are to remain in Nova Babylon until further notice," Cedric emphasized this directive with a stern gaze. "Tomorrow, you will receive guests. Their safety is your priority."
From counter-insurgency operations to a bloody babysitting duty, this briefing was becoming more and more irritating with each passing second.
"And who," Cyrus began with a clipped tone. "Are we protecting?"
Cyrus was ill-prepared for his father's following statement.
"Your sisters."
"All of them?"
Cedric's grin widened at his reluctance.
"All of them."
His stomach clenched with anticipation.
Cyrus had not seen Ashara or the twins in years.
They may have kept a correspondence every now and then, but the relationship was somewhat strained since Ghislaine acted as a proxy between them.
Ashara, in particular, hadn't gotten over Cyrus shredding a chunk of skin from Arwen's leg all those years ago, and there was little doubt in his mind that his sibling would seek retribution.
"I will prepare our arrangements," Ghislaine snatched his Primus Legionnaire by the shoulder. "Come along, Arkias, I'm conscripting your cohort!"
Centurion Zorizar watched his commander be unceremoniously dragged away before turning to Cyrus for permission. The Spartan reluctantly dismissed his subordinates to fulfill his sister's instructions.
Regarding Ghislaine's antics, the 10th had an unofficial rule: find Cyrus before executing her directives.
It would save him and his Legionnaires any future headaches.
With his Centurion's departure, the only remaining occupants of the war council were Cyrus and Lady Gremory's delegation.
The debriefing continued on like usual, situation reports were given to Cedric, and in return, he provided an update on the Siege of Lucifaad.
Which was going exceedingly poor.
Cedric ordered his Legions to breach the walls of Lucifaad a week earlier, and it would have led to a breakthrough were it not for the timely intervention of Grayfia Lucifuge.
Her presence alone countermanded Sirzech's raw power and turned a potential conquest into a bloody stalemate.
Already she was responsible for several loyalists' victories, and even when a triumph was out of reach, she made their forces pay in blood.
Sooner or later, someone would be to remove the Lucifuge from the board.
Permanently.
And Cyrus was more than happy to oblige.
"Anything else?" Cedric received only silence from Cyrus and the other Primus Legionnaires. "Then this council is dismissed. Lady Venelana, I bid you farewell."
"A moment of your time, Primarch." Cyrus interrupted Cedric's dismissal, freezing the other Centurions and Lady Venelana in place. "In private."
The Gremory Matriarch exchanged furtive glances with Cedric before quietly exiting the room alongside her subordinates. Once the doors closed behind them, Cedric allowed the stern expression to ebb away.
"What is it, my child?"
"You played the Fallen situation close to your chest." Cyrus thought about getting straight to the point but opted to take his time bringing up the Lucifuge.
The Primarch replied with a stern countenance. "Do you disapprove?"
"No," Cyrus admitted with a shrug. "I'm all for operational security, but that problem nearly blew up in our faces."
"Hadriel is lucky you pulled him out before Viktor went to work on him."
"We were lucky," Cyrus corrected his father's words with finality. "Working with the Fallen didn't do anything for us then and even more so now. We should cut ties before they get any ideas."
"I already have. Azazel was less than pleased with my decision." Cedric confessed but refused to comment at the levels of anger the Governor-General laid onto him. "He hoped this cooperative would enable him to establish a liaison between our peoples, but I denied it much to Penemune's chagrin….You made quite the impression on her."
"Don't tell Ghislaine that." Cyrus scowled at the mere mention of Penemune and the inability to go more than a day without hearing her name again, but fate continued to play with him. "She's a ticking bomb whenever that Crow is around her."
"She's a ticking time bomb around most Fallen, Cyrus." Cedric's attention was drawn towards Eleamus, who whispered into his ear. "Is there anything else? The other Praetors will be arriving soon."
Cyrus straightened his back and allowed a steady exhale to flow through his lungs before dropping a metaphorical nuke onto his father.
"I request that my next assignment be the capture or death of Grayfia Lucifuge." There was a long silent pause as Cedric's eyes narrowed. Cyrus remained steadfast under his father's intense gaze, matching it with an unbowed visage.
"Do you know what you're asking?"
"Yes."
"Then you must also know it's suicide," Cedric stated with certainty. "Grayfia shelters inside the Eternal palace, and she leads Bashalums Infernal Guard. That alone is a drastic endeavor, and I'm not even accounting for the half a million Loyalists inside Lucifaad."
"This prolonged siege is doing nothing more than dragging this war out, and it cannot continue at its current trajectory."
"I agree, Cyrus." Cedric countered with a heavy sigh. "But we have no assets inside the city to rally these dissidents to our cause. Let alone a means of supplying them with arms and intelligence to act upon. I have agents assigned to finding a path into the city, but-"
"Then cut me loose." Cyrus leaned forward and interrupted his father.
Cedric's brows furrowed incredulously, "What could you accomplish where a thousand of my field agents have already failed."
"Your operatives are amateurs who spent the last two years chasing Viktor's shadow." Cyrus's low opinion of the Renegade intelligence network was a well-known fact, and Cedric actively fought to keep Ajuka's field agents out of his son's way. "I killed Viktor, and the Vastayan we captured was a part of his inner circle. If anyone in the territories knows a way in, it's her."
"And if the girl doesn't know."
"Then we spend the next hundred years smashing into these walls, praying that the Loyalists break first." Cyrus met Cedric's steely gaze. "If we don't break this siege, Heaven and the Grigori will smell blood in the water."
"Azazel and Micheal would never allow their soldiers to intervene in our affairs without their permission. They want peace more than anyone of us."
Cyrus almost growled at his father's stubbornness.
Cedric didn't trust either of the Angels, but he did trust that neither could commit to another great war without guaranteeing their own extinction.
Too bad there were idiots no matter what faction you were a part of.
"Tell that to Metatron and Kokabiel." Cyrus pressed onto the Primarch's argument. "Either of them would gladly kill their boss to start another Great War."
"Bloodthirsty heathens." Cedric snarled under his breath. "Their influence grows by the day, and both are eager to avenge God's death, but that does not motivate me enough to send you into the viper's nest."
"What other choice do we have? With Viktor's death, my talents are wasted commanding Legionnaires. I belong in the field, not sitting behind battle lines watching soldiers tear each other apart."
During his deployments with the 10th Cohort, one of Cyrus's biggest gripes was the constant need to observe his forces from the rear in its earliest days.
Legionnaires were prone to falling back to their former tactics, and to avoid any institutional issues, the Spartan was forced to scale back his efforts to accommodate his men's lack of experience operating in fluid squads.
It was both frustrating and eye-opening for Cyrus to truly experience what it was like to lead and organize a proper fighting force.
Still, his Legionnaires were not yet accustomed to his style of warfare, and he wanted to bring a swift end to this Civil War before Heaven or the Grigori got involved.
Should such a thing come to pass, the carnage wouldn't be limited to just the three biblical factions.
Humanity was a chew toy manipulated by Devil and Angel alike during the Great War.
The Bubonic plague that ravaged an entire continent and killed over 200 million people was a massive conspiracy to keep humanity unaware that their species had been utterly devastated by the Great War when the fighting inevitably spilled onto the plains of Earth.
In reality, the casualties nearly eclipsed half of the human race, and it was only by the sudden termination of hostilities that humanity didn't cease to exist during the middle ages. It vexed Cyrus that the three factions sprinkled some magic onto the entire conflict and quickly forgot about the slaughter they inflicted.
They didn't care about the mountains of bodies they had stacked upon the altar of their misbegotten war, and Cyrus swore to himself that such a thing would never happen again.
He would never sacrifice human lives for the pride of any Angel or Devil.
Cyrus watched the emotion on Cedric's countenance as he silently contemplated his options. He could not come to a resolution because of an internal struggle between Primarch and Father.
But like all things in war, passion must be dismissed.
Cyrus was counting on that.
"Talk to the Vastayan." Cedric let out a resigns dechale. "If she has a way in, then we'll pull a few Centurias to follow you-"
"No." Cyrus interrupted. He could not trust this operation's authenticity while restricted to a command position. "We do this my way, alone and without a Night Warden or Ghislaine looking over my shoulder."
"Your mother would never allow that."
"Then don't tell her." Cyrus fought against looking over his shoulder. Mothers have a sixth sense when it comes to deception from their children. "I'll perform my duty and ensure your family is safe inside Nova Babylon."
"Our family, Cyrus." Cedric reminded with a severe tone. "Don't forget that."
"As you say," The Spartan acquiesced, but Cedric's gaze remained unphased. "Do we have an accord?"
"I'll greenlight the initiative." Crimson orbs bore into Cyrus with an authority that befits Cedric's station. "But only if the Vastayan has a way inside. Even then, I want a detailed report on how you intend to operate inside the city. If your grand strategy is to wing it, you can consider my answer a no."
"You'll have it all by tonight."
"Don't make me regret this," Cedric warned, already preparing for the massive shitstorm Elerin would throw his way.
"You won't." Cedric's spectral form winked out of existence, leaving Cyrus silently glancing over the war table.
Dozens of distinct symbols matching the banners of each Legion and its subsequent allegiance were laid out before him.
Eventually, his gaze turned to the Eternal Palace, where a white figurine represented Grayfia Lucifuge.
A black tendril severed the finely crafted sculpture's head.
l==l
Cyrus avoided being pulled by Ghislaine to discuss the…celebration and all its insignificant details.
He returned to the barracks to inform his Centurions that the Cohort was being placed on a 48-hour furlough. All Legionnaires were free to explore the commercial district and spend their time however they saw fit.
It didn't take long for the barracks to empty out as 3,000 Legionnaires took to the streets to either get hammered or blow their money on the salacious workers native to the red-light district.
Either way, his path toward the infirmary was sparse of any Legionnaires, baring the select few who chose to visit their fellows still recovering from the raid of Viktor's GHQ.
The casualties suffered by the 10th Cohort came out to around thirty wounded, with no fatalities amongst any of the centurias.
The raid was a complete success on those terms, but unfortunately for the wounded, they would spend the next 24 hours confined to their beds. He made a mental note to give these poor souls an extra two days of furlough for their troubles.
Cyrus personally visited each of his wounded Legionnaires, noting how the light in their eyes brightened when they saw him.
His reputation inside the Cohort started off on a sour note, but time and actions had a way of altering people's perceptions of one another.
Fast forward more than a year and nearly six deployments, and you couldn't find a member of the 10th Cohort who didn't idolize their commander.
Cyrus did not let the adulation go to his or their heads; there was a fine line between devotion and fanaticism, and he frequently discovered that fanatical followers made mistakes.
By the time he was finished, he'd finally made his way to a cell under guard by four of his men.
"My Lord." Legionary Ornal of the 1st Centuria snapped a salute alongside the other veterans.
"Problems?" The Devil shook his head in negatory.
"None whatsoever, my Lord." The Devil shook his head in negatory. "She's been as quiet as a mouse since waking up."
Cyrus peered past the steel bars and found a pair of amber orbs. All traces of amusement vanished from Ahri's gaze, replaced by a cautious undertone.
Her clothes had been confiscated by Lady Gremory's personal tailors, leaving the Nekoshu in loose rags that barely maintained her modesty.
A perturbed expression ate at Ahri's visage because she had rightly expected to die in that courtyard, but Cyrus had other plans for the Vastayan.
And he wanted a private conversation.
"You're dismissed, Guardsman." Cyrus locked eyes with the Veteran. "Enjoy your furlough."
Ornal hesitated, and the surrounding Legionnaires likewise shuffled awkwardly in place, Cyrus's brows furrowed in momentary confusion at the sudden lack of obedience.
"Problem?" He inquired with an edge to his voice.
"No, my Lord." Legionary Tycus, another Veteran, spoke up for Ornal. "We just don't trust her, is all."
Cyrus could understand their hesitancy.
The Vastayan were considered cutthroats and renegades amongst Devils because of their long history, but Cyrus didn't need protection from the Nekoshu.
He needed answers.
"Then trust me, Guardsmen." Ornal shared a glance with Tycus, and reluctantly, the Legionnaires were convinced that discretion was the better part of valor.
The Veterans bid their lord farewell and returned to their barracks, each sparing a withering stare of contempt toward Ahri before falling from view.
The Legionnaires believed that would be the last time they ever saw the Vastayan alive, and all thoughts regarding their prisoner were lost in the amenities of Nova Babylon.
How wrong they were.
l==l
Locks came undone, and metal screeched against metal, but the shrieking sounds never tore Ahri's gaze away from her captor.
Viktor's death was neither tragic nor noteworthy in the Nekoshu's mind. Their relationship was strictly professional on her part, and she barely tolerated the Nebiros and his arrogant demeanor. She performed her duty, just as her ancestors had done for the other House Nebiros heirs, warming Viktor's bed and slaying his foes when required.
Ahri settled for a doomed existence, but fate had other plans.
She failed to protect her recently deceased Master, and now this…oddity was the next pillar of her long life.
The Vastayan are, in the most basic terms, bodyguards, and their allegiances are connected to those who bear their mark, so it would be far more accurate to call Cyrus her new Master.
By killing Viktor, the Kimaris unwittingly tied their fates together, and now here they stood, bodyguard and Master.
She wondered if he hadn't noticed the archaic marking etched into the back of his hand. The displeased expression and his constant need to flex his fingers was an answer enough.
Cyrus stalked towards her bound form, undoing the gauntlet safeguarding his right hand and presenting the unmistakable mark of Halahbran etched into his skin.
"What is this?" Cyrus inquired with a low voice that Ahri's ears barely picked up.
"The mark of Halahbran." The Nekoshu hummed with delight at his confused expression, standing to her feet and pulling on the steel bindings keeping her in place. "Viktor had one, and now so do you."
"What does it do?"
"It binds us." Cyrus's gaze turned pensive, forcing Ahri to explain further. "A Vastayan is an extension of her Master's will, and we are bound to a soul for every moment of our existence. When you killed Viktor, you became the bearer of my mark…and now we are bonded in mind and body, so to speak."
"How do I get rid of it?" Ahri's head turned in momentary uncertainty before an amused grin graced her lips.
"You could try killing yourself…." His head snapped towards her with a narrowed gaze that dried her lips. "…Or me if you are so inclined."
Cyrus briefly stood there with an unreadable appearance that revealed nothing regarding his current sentiments.
Ahri anxiously pulled on her restraints, awaiting his final damning verdict.
If Cyrus chose to end her life and spare him the thought of being bound to her, she could do nothing to stop him. His marker prevents her from committing an act against him, even to defend herself.
It turned the Vastayan into a tool to be exploited by their Master, and for this reason, the Devils slaughtered her order so thoroughly. A fallen angel took one of their maidens in, and while performing her duties, she slew a Devil Noble close to Lucifer.
But that was a story for a different time.
Ahri felt naked under his impenetrable gaze, unable to verify his thoughts on their current predicament.
Cyrus didn't trust her, and she didn't need to be a psychic to know that, but he also saved her life which further perplexed the Nekoshu's opinion of him.
A clack of metal pulled Ahri from her internal thoughts, and she felt the weights on her bindings loosen before falling to the ground in a heap.
Cyrus gave her a final narrowed gaze before turning on his heel and issuing a single command.
"Follow." Ahri did as instructed, ignoring the dirt and loose rocks digging into the souls of her feet as she kept pace with her Lord.
The unlikely pair emerged from the detention center to various glances. The few Legionnaires in the 10th Cohort barracks stared at the Nekoshu with blatant suspicion.
While among the Devils, her kind were called every foul epithet under the sun, which Ahri did not find surprising given her order's mercenary-like stance and the history between their people.
As they ascended a lengthy set of pearly white stairs toward the Governor's palace, Ahri came face-to-face with a silver-haired Nekoshu glaring visceral daggers into her soul.
"What's she doing here?" Cyrus gave the irate woman an even glance.
"There's been a new…." He struggled to find the correct words that wouldn't upset his elder sister. "…Development."
"What does she give good head?" Her scathing remark brought an equally aggressive response from Ahri.
"She…." The Vastayan advanced on her fellow Nekoshu with fury leaking into her tone. "….Is standing right here, and if you wanna go a few rounds, I'm more than happy to oblige."
"You wouldn't last five minutes with me, girl!" Both Nekoshu were nose to nose now, and Cyrus noted the underlying tension between the two as they stared daggers at one another.
He wouldn't be surprised if they ended up sleeping together by the end of the week.
However, his attention was diverted towards Ghislaine when a violent concentration of infernal energy pulled into her hands.
Ahri was likewise preparing for an all-out brawl with his elder sister regardless of how much she was out of her depth.
Ghislaine flashed her internal energy, seeking to rip this…interloper's head clean off.
Cyrus intervened before they could come to blows, pulling Ahri into his chest and putting himself between her and Ghislaine.
Without hesitation, he drew the Vastayan into the clutches of a Caiseag Sgàil.
Both he and Ahri phased out of sight, missing the bewildered expression plastered onto Ghislaine's visage and the subsequent loss of grace as she tumbled down the stairs.
Crimson orbs scrunched up as their owner smashed into the concrete before coming to an unceremonious halt at the feet of an overtly amused Lady Gremory and her entourage.
"Fuck you, Cyrus!" Venelana's grin widened as she grasped her former ward by her shoulders.
It was never a dull moment when House Kimaris was nearby.
l==l
Darkness momentarily consumed Ahri's vision as her golden eyes adjusted to her new…environment.
There was no path, no distinct landmarks, no buildings, and no people for what seemed like miles.
Only an empty, darkened space brimming with poisonous arcana that licked at Ahri's freezing limbs. Her body instinctively sought out the closest blanket of warmth, and she desperately pressed herself against Cyrus.
His arms kept Ahri in a cocoon, protecting her from the vicious tendrils that recognized this new visitor. A burst of infernal energy sent these siphons retreating into the darkness allowing the Nekoshu to feel life return to her limbs.
This place wasn't meant for life to survive.
"Where are we?" Ahri failed to keep the trepidation from her voice.
"The Shadow Realm."
This plane of reality can only be traversed by members of House Kimaris.
There is a history to this dimension that has been lost to antiquity, but dragons and beings of incredible power once called this place home.
Now it is tended to by the members of House Kimaris, but make no mistake, they are little more than caretakers.
Cyrus can feel the malevolence crawling up his skin, and every fiber of his being demanded an immediate exfil.
But, this was the best place to verify Ahri's usefulness.
The Vastayan felt his hands brace against her shoulders, and the warmth she took shelter in disappeared in a chilling fog.
"Take a seat." Cyrus produced a pair of darkened thrones for both Spartan and Vastayan to sit upon.
Ahri eyed the ornate chair with suspicion, her hand traveling up one of its blocky arms before finally settling herself into its oddly comfortable cushion.
"Why are we here?" The Nekoshu questioned, crossing her leg over the other and wrapping her arms around her torso.
"Privacy," Cyrus informed. "I hoped to have this conversation in the government quarter, but my sister is unhelpful. I need you to prove that you can be an asset, not a burden."
"How?"
"You spent your whole life by Viktor's side, and he operated out of the capital before being sent to Nova Babylon. Tell me about Lucifaad."
"It's a cesspool, plain and simple." An uncharacteristic sneer marred Ahri's seductive visage. "The social hierarchy is a joke, and the Nobles spend most of their time shitting down the throats of their constituents for their own amusement. The Nobles of Nova Babylon are tame in comparison to Lucifaads. Inquisitors patrol the Underhive, throwing their weight around like the pretentious pricks they are, and when things get out of hand, Bashalum sends in teams of Putrid Sons to cleanse the population of its…deviancy."
Cyrus could picture the brutality inflicted upon the Underhive population. While Nova Babylon was a powder keg ready to explode because of their local government's inadequacy, Lucifaad was far worse.
Bashalum had little respect for the lower classes and regulated them to either cannon fodder for his armies or labor for his factories.
Cyrus banished the thoughts of Devils and their plights to the back of his mind. "How did Viktor get out of the city? Earlier reports placed him inside the Eternal Palace after our Legions laid siege."
"There's a passage to the Underhive twenty leagues north of the walls. It's not the most stable corridor, but it's adequate."
That placed its location just a few miles north of Sirzechs siege camp and likely just out of range of their lookout patrols.
"Do the Loyalists know about it?" Cyrus inquired, leaning into his throne and ignoring the tendrils of darkness creeping down the lip of his chair.
"Only Viktor retained knowledge of its locations." Ahri curled in on herself as a wisp brushed past her leg. "Something about not trusting his subordinates not to abuse it for their own reasons."
"Can you lead me to it?" Ahri nodded, her eyes trailing off towards a hissing tendril before a flick of her wrist sent a stream of aura bullets crashing into its spine.
Cyrus snorted with amusement at the shadow creature's shriek of pain and idly noted the deep growls emitting from the other Dubhra Garrach.
These organisms populate the shadow realm and seek to kill any who tread upon their land. They manifest in different forms but almost exclusively appear as sharp tendrils that bask in the shadows.
A wave of his hand kept the Dubhra Garrach from slicing Ahri into a dozen fleshy bits, and with a curl of Cyrus's hand, they were sent back to the shadows. The Nekoshu gave him an unamused sneer at the subtle tries at intimidation.
"Yes…" She began with a deep exhale, shivering at the mere thought of the passageway's tight corridors and weak support beams. "…But it's not stable enough to fit an entire army if that's your end goal."
"What about two?" The simplicity of his statements through Ahri off-balance, and she leaned into her chair in disbelief.
In all her time amongst Devil Nobles, not once did they willingly put themselves at risk unless they were confident of success. Nobles are conceited bastards who only focus on themselves at every waking moment.
"Are you not bringing some of your Centurions?" Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way in hell Cyrus was about to walk into Lucifaad with just her by his side.
"Not immediately," Cyrus replied. "I trained them to be a surgical hammer designed to ground our enemies into dust wherever they may hide, but they aren't intended to thread a needle this precarious. When the time comes, I'll bring them to me."
"So you're just going to leave them behind?" Ahri's lips turned into a frown as she felt the emotion coursing through her veins.
With the mark of Halahbran connecting them on an emotional level, Ahri was permitted to feel her new Master's sentiments or, in this case, lack thereof.
Cyrus exemplified an emptiness that completely contrasted a Devil's overtly emotional creatures.
Throughout their conversation, his thoughts of Ahri were bordered on indifference.
There was a small inkling of skepticism, but otherwise, his thoughts were blank to her senses.
But as their conversation shifted toward his Cohort, his sentiments changed into mixed emotions.
There was an affection for his soldiers that didn't surprise Ahri. It wasn't uncommon even for Devils to eventually care for those who fought under their command but linked to that emotion was an oddity that Ahri couldn't quite place.
To the Vastayan, it felt like shame, which baffled Ahri to no end because she couldn't understand why such a paradox brewed inside him.
"They'll be fine without me," Cyrus supplied, pulling Ahri from her confusing search. "I didn't spend the last year fighting alongside them just to watch them be slaughtered on a hopeless assault upon the walls of Lucifaad."
Again, he surprised Ahri in ways that she didn't think possible.
Cyrus didn't hesitate, and that shame was slowly ebbing away until it was gone or locked away behind his current overwhelming thoughts.
His eyes brimmed with a decency, no a sincerity, that went against everything Ahri knew about Nobles.
Cyrus was meant to be arrogant, he was supposed to be unconcerned for the lives of his underlings, and he was expected to look upon them with disdain or indifference as he did her.
But he didn't do any of that.
His dialogue with the Legionary's standing guard over her made much more sense now.
They protected Cyrus, and even if he were the most powerful being in the universe, those Devils would still put themselves between their Lord and whatever fool or god came after him.
The Kimaris Heir treated them with a morality, with a care that justified his Legionnaire's undying loyalty and their need to safeguard him under any circumstance.
Cyrus is a Devil with a heart and integrity not born of accident or station but of pure desire to be genuine amongst those considered inferior to his will.
He is an enigma so complex that were it not for Ahri's mark; she would never know what he was truly like.
With a deep exhale, the Vastayan perished any thoughts about his motivations and set her sights upon his intentions towards Lucifaad.
"What exactly are you looking to do inside the city?" It wouldn't do Ahri any good if her new Master went off and got himself killed.
"The same thing Viktor did in Nova Babylon."
"An insurgency? You'll need friends inside the city to pull that off."
"Not just an insurgency," Cyrus replied. "An insurgency takes time and planning, all of which are not a luxury for me. I need names, supply depots, rally points, barracks, everything, and anything that keeps an army fighting."
"That kind of information is locked within the Inquisitorial Spire, and getting inside is damn near impossible, let alone suicidal." Ahri's gaze shifted with interest. "But I think I might know someone who can help."
"Who?"
"Vander of House Nebiros," Cyrus's mind worked overtime to recall the dossier he had written up. "He was the polar opposite of his brother, and his family disowned him when they discovered he'd been smuggling rations for the poor sods living in their squalor. He had extensive knowledge of the Inquisitorial Spire before his death."
"If he's dead, how does that help me?"
"Because everything he knows was passed onto his daughter, and she's been killing Inquisitors for the last three decades before an Inquisitorial Strike Team finally captured her. Rumors suggest she's working for a group of dissidents called the Firelights. Viktor was set to interrogate her, but after you destroyed one of his cells at Tophet, he diverted his attention towards Nova Babylon. If you're lucky, she's still alive and might be willing to help if we break her out."
"How long ago was this?" With Viktor dead, Vander's daughter was sitting on a ticking time bomb.
The Inquisitors might kill her once word got around that Viktor was dead.
"About a week, give or take."
"Then we don't have much time." Cyrus stood to his feet, grasping the Vastayan by her arms, and pulled her towards him.
With a burst of infernal energy, he manifested a portal back to the underworld underneath their feet.
Ahri landed face-first into a pristine marble floor while Cyrus made a more subtle and less painful descent upon the soles of his feet.
"You really know how to treat a woman." The Nekoshu rolled onto her back, shooting him a vicious stare that promised a slow and painful death if he embarrassed her like that again.
"Karal." Cyrus ignored Ahri's scathing glances and seemingly called out a name into the void.
Her heart froze when a figure clad in finely crafted armor appeared from Cyrus's shadow.
"Yes, my lord?" The Night Warden fell to a knee and momentarily eyed the Nekoshu.
"Get her clothes and whatever supplies she needs. I need her ready for departure by tonight."
"Your father won't be pleased if you leave Nova Babylon early, my lord," Karal warned as he ascended to his feet.
"You leave him to me, Warden," Cyrus replied. "I'm assigning you to safeguard Lady Arwen and her children until my return."
"As you command." Karal would do as he was instructed despite his reservations. His attention fell towards their….guest with a sharp gaze. "Come along, Vastayan, and mind your tongue."
Ahri returned his suspicious stare with a smile bristling with sarcasm and annoyance. If she were stuck with this stick in the mud, she would have fun with it.
"Ooohh, a field trip. I can't wait." The Nekoshu shot to her feet and skipped after the irritated Night Warden.
Cyrus envied Karal's babysitting duties for once.
At least he didn't have to deal with a family reunion.
l==l
The artificial sun showered Nova Babylon in glorious light, even as the echo of trumpets announced a new guest.
On either end of the main avenue leading towards the Governor's palace were scores of Legionnaires from the 56th and 66th Legions.
It was an honor guard that would welcome the remaining members of House Kimaris to the city of Nova Babylon. The Nobles around Cyrus were anxious as they gazed upon the large procession of Night Wardens and Legionnaires from the 8th Cohort.
Moments like this made Cyrus cherish his family's ability to utilize their Caiseag Sgàil. The ability to travel vast distances at a moment's notice was a boon not to be wasted, but Cedric cautioned delving into the Shadow Realm for menial purposes.
There were entities in that plane of reality that the Primarch didn't want to risk awakening.
Cyrus explained that avoiding a massive procession was a priority, but Cedric denied his wishes. But for this case, employing such a technique was worthless. Arwen and Elerin could not utilize their family's shadowcraft since they were of Valefor blood.
The twins were adept users but were still novices regarding their family's Caiseag Sgàil. Ashara was likewise inexperienced because her teachers were deployed to the frontlines while she was stuck at home.
Arwen's children had their training neglected, yet another point of contention between Cryus and Ashara.
She was seven years his senior, but somehow he'd surpassed her martial prowess in a few short years.
It no doubt stung her Devil pride, but Cyrus was hoping that Ashara's maturity would win out after two years apart.
Fat chance of that happening after he stabbed her mother in the thigh.
The twins didn't begrudge their little brother because they didn't take to their lessons as Ashara did, but Rose and Sapphire always proved to be the more amiable of his siblings. Cyrus could do no wrong in the twins' eyes, and whoever stated otherwise suffered a grievous injury or an annoying prank.
And as Cyrus pondered these thoughts, his gaze centered upon the banners of the 66th Legion's 8th Cohort.
He recognized the standout hair color of his sister Sapphire and Rose's mop of silver hair with red tips. Both possessed an endearing smile and expressive eyes that threatened to tear up.
However, this raw emotion was superseded by gunmetal grey orbs that did not stray from his gaze.
Ashara was coming for blood, and nothing Ghislaine or Jade said would convince him otherwise.
Cyrus exhaled a deep sigh of acceptance.
Now he had two sisters pissed off at him for differing reasons.
Cyrus stood off to the Gremory Matriarch's left, placing her in prime position to block Ghislaine's venomous glare.
The trio lingered at the summit of a lengthy set of marble stairs in uncomfortable silence.
A half dozen luminaries from Nova Babylon's Noble houses and several high-ranking officers from both garrisoned Legions stood respectfully behind them, placing precious space between themselves and the simmering Nekoshu exuding violence.
They were here for the ceremony and would no doubt depart for their homes and stations once they'd paid the proper respect to their Primarchs family.
Venelana's gaze never strayed from their oncoming guests, but she would be remiss not to address the elephant in the room between the two Kimaris.
"Ok, I'll bite." Venelana's exasperated sigh was enough to draw Ghislaine's attention. "What's the problem?"
"Aside from letting me fall face-first into these goddamn stairs." The Gremory inched away from Ghislaine's venomous tone on instinct. "Nothing at all."
"And here I thought you lost your balance." Cyrus's snort of amusement at her reply earned him another silent promise of retribution.
Venelana glanced at him from the corner of her eye, demanding an explanation for this sudden tension between the siblings.
"She was trying to kill an…asset." His placating explanation did nothing for his sister's mood.
"Asset my ass!" Ghislaine retorted with a snarl. "Where's the Vastayan bitch at so I can claw that pretty face off."
"Her location is not your concern." His defiance only stocked the flames of fury rolling off the Nekoshu.
"But it is mine, Cyrus." Venelana interceded before Ghislaine could reach around and smother her vexing sibling. "I trust you know what you're doing, but having an unsupervised Vastayan is not advisable."
"Karal is monitoring Ahri," Cyrus informed without delay. "If she gets out of line, he will handle her."
Venelana would have left the conversation at that, but her gaze was drawn towards his right hand, tightly clutching his thigh armor.
Cyrus refused to meet her eyes as she grasped his forearm and removed the gauntlet covering a marking that the Matriarch easily identified.
"Did she bond with you?" A Vastayan bonding with their Master was assumed to be an old myth amongst the younger members of their race, but Venelana had been around long enough to know fact from fiction.
"Yes." Cyrus did not attempt subterfuge, but that was because he saw no need to conceal such knowledge.
Venelana's grip was swiftly replaced by Ghislaine's, and all of her fury was disregarded by an overwhelming sense of maternal instinct.
"She marked you?" The Nekoshu murmured with impotent rage and inspected the marking with a critical eye before glancing toward Venelana. "Is this thing dangerous?
"Not to him." The Noble advised with a placating tone. "The Vastayan is bound to him and is obligated, if not downright forced to follow his commands. Whatever they may entail."
"Mom's going to be pissed when she finds out you got tatted up."
"Then we don't tell her anything about it." Cyrus snapped back, missing the amused glance from Venelana and the nocturne energy collecting in his blind spot.
"Yeahhhh," Ghislaine drew out with a shit-eating grin as a familiar visage entered Cyrus's shadow. "Good luck with that."
"What do you me-" A lithe hand snaked around his shoulders before cupping his right cheek and turning Cyrus towards its owner. A pair of azure blue orbs bore into his soul, sapping away any resistance that manifested in a single stroke.
"Tell me what?" Elerin Kimaris, in all her glory, roughly pinched her son's cheek.
"Mother," Cyrus bit out with scrunched brows. "I thought-"
" I would stay in the siege encampment while my entire family visited Nova Babylon." The Kimaris Matriarch pulled on his cheek once more. "You must be mad, child, if you think Cedric could keep me from this occasion. Speaking of…."
Cedric lingered in the shadow, allowing his nocturne energy to consume his surroundings and forcing all to bow before his presence.
The 10th Cohort's centurions and legionnaires recognized their Master's essence and kneeled with their heads bowed and their spears clutched a little tighter.
"My Lord!" Arnath Sachia immediately left the gathering of Nobles and approached the Primarch with haste. "Welcome to Nova Babylon. Its citizens and amenities are yours to command."
Cedric eyed the Noble with momentary amusement, taking great pleasure in watching the vain Devil squirm in his breeches amongst one of the original Pillars.
"Thank you, Marquis," Cedric allowed his demonic presence to ebb away. "But my time here is temporary, and I prefer to spend it with my family."
His momentary concession drew the other Nobles to Cedric like moths to a flame, and Elerin watched her husband bat away their exaggerated greetings with all the grace of a career politician.
The Matriarch clutched Cyrus's shoulder a little tighter, delivering a silent message of patience to her son before striding off to help Cedric fight off the Nobles.
A mop of raven hair obscured Cyrus's vision, and two lithe arms locked around his midsection before a familiar fragrance flooded his senses.
"Hello, brother."
"Jade." He slowly returned the familial embrace and felt his eldest sister's tense frame loosen up. "I didn't know you were coming."
"You didn't know 'we' were coming, did you?" Jade whispered, unhooking her arms and grasping both shoulders tightly. "I suppose it'd be too much to ask what day it is?"
"Not particularly." There was an amusement in her emerald gaze that Cyrus couldn't quite place. "You gonna tell me?"
"No," Jade replied, exchanging an anonymous glance with Ghislaine as she closed the distance between them. "It's a surprise mostly because you're an idiot."
Cyrus frowned in response, but his attention was drawn away to the fast-approaching procession that had seemingly crossed the two-mile distance at an expedited pace. Arwen was the first to come into view, ignoring all others to embrace Cedric and her sister.
"Cyrus!"
Sapphire's sparkling smile followed after her mother, grabbing Rose by the arm before racing after their brother. Cyrus was taken aback by their sheer delight, and his guard slipped for the briefest moment.
What should have transpired next was a reunion that mended the wounds plaguing the Kimaris family.
But there are some wounds that even time cannot heal.
A curled fist flashed across Cyrus's vision, and instinct alone saved him from a crushing blow to the skull.
A voice somewhere in the mass of noise demanded he restrain himself.
But that voice went ignored as instinct superseded all other thoughts, wrapping his arm around the offending limb before flipping its owner over his shoulder and onto their back.
Cyrus ignored the feminine roar and curled his free hand into a fist that smashed against his attacker's face. He couldn't finish his initial counter because he could feel hands clawing at his arm, keeping them in place.
His eyes centered upon an exposed throat, and without hesitation, he pulled back his arm again to deliver a retaliatory strike aimed at her pharynx.
Devil anatomy was more robust than a human's, but the Spartan knew that a ruptured esophagus was a slow and agonizing way to die.
"Enough!" Several voices rang out in unison, and Cyrus deftly recognized them as his siblings when several arms pulled him away from his attacker.
The fury instantly dissipated from Cyrus, and his blinding instincts cooled until he finally recognized the gunmetal orbs staring back at him with silent rage.
At his mercy lay Ashara.
She was no longer the teenager on the edge of maturity but a grown woman. Her silver hair was barely long enough to reach her chin, blood dripped from her lips, and her chest rose and fell with heaving pants.
In her right hand was a familiar dagger with blood dripping from its edges.
His blood.
Cyrus reached to his side and felt the red liquid slowly drip from a deep laceration that managed to pierce his ribs.
"I told you I'd get you back." Ashara was hauled to her feet by an irate Cedric, followed by an unreadable Arwen.
Elerin fussed over his wound even as Ghislaine and Jade tried to put themselves in the line of fire should another melee break out.
Sapphire and Rose remained by his side, stuck between worry and fear for what would come next.
Cyrus could only stare at the sister he'd fully intended to kill with a narrowed gaze.
Every muscle and fiber of his being shuddered with frustration as the adrenaline finally wore off.
The sheer audacity Ashara showed by spilling blood gnawed into his Spartan pride, and this unstable emotion was only multiplied by the volatile emotions Devil's were susceptible to.
This animosity needed to end.
Before he killed Ashara.