Chapter Sixteen
Fort Azalan, Lucifaad Territory
You wouldn't understand.
Those words haunted Ashara more than the memories of that terrible night.
She wanted…no…needed to understand what made Cyrus different from the rest of them.
What made him a beacon of rage and tranquility in the same breath?
Ashara resigned herself to never knowing the answer to that question until her father unveiled her brother's darkest secrets.
It was a…jarring experience.
Cedric didn't realize the unrelenting emotions shrouding each memory perverted by their presence.
All of them lived out flashes of Cyrus's memories through his eyes.
Jade confronted each recollection with an expression made of steel.
Ghislaine welcomed them with open arms as if they were an old friend.
The Twins embraced them with curious eyes, eager to unravel the mystery that was their favorite brother.
And Ashara suffered them just like he did.
She could feel the anger, the hatred coursing through his veins every time he caught sight of the…Covenant. The beasts hunted humanity across the heavens for reasons Cyrus would never know.
She felt every raw emotion he experienced, from the moment his parents died in the orbit of Actium to the exotic installation where his final HUMAN breath was taken.
Ashara didn't share the repugnant dispositions for the lesser race or care about any of them. It would be similar to a human acknowledging an ant or any other insignificant bug that crossed their path.
But when she walked through Cyrus's memories, two prevailing sentiments eclipsed every traumatic experience he endured.
Duty to the Human race.
And Loyalty to his sisters in all but blood.
But it wasn't given to Jade or Ghislaine.
It wasn't offered to the Twins and wasn't presented to Ashara.
That Loyalty belonged to those who fought by his side, and two names rang out in the deepest parts of his mind.
Eliza and Casey.
His Spartan siblings.
Jealousy crept into Ashara at the mere thought that these fallen warriors held more of a candle in Cyrus's heart than anything she could muster.
And just as quickly, it faded into sorrow.
She wanted what they, as Spartans possessed.
A bond that ran deeper than lovers, more in tune than even the most stalwart of comrades, and could not be quantified in words but by standing in each other's company.
By fighting and dying, if necessary, for one another.
Side.
By.
Side.
Without hesitation.
But Ashara didn't have that right.
She didn't earn it.
Not a single member of the Kimaris household did.
The 10th, however, is the exception to the rule.
It's why Ashara entered the Cohort's encampment mere hours after a timeless walk through Cyrus's memories. Rose and Sapphire followed in her wake while their Night Wardens shadowed them with a suspicious eye for everything that moved.
Primus Arkias chose to pitch his men on the edge of a small ravine making up Fort Azalan's eastern perimeter. The reasons proposed to Cedric were lost to Ashara, but she was inclined to guess it was due to the recent issues between the 10th and the other Cohorts.
"My Lady." A Centurion greeted them warmly, more out of custom than an absolute joy. "What brings you to the 10th?
Ashara reached into her chest pocket and produced a parchment bearing the rebellion's sigil. The Centurion looked over the manuscript with interest, but the message wasn't meant for him.
He gave off a façade of understanding and immediately called for an escort detail, but there was a shift in the camp's disposition.
Everyone from Legionary to Centurion, down to the Cohort attendants mulling around the camp, stared at the royal entourage. Their gazes were impassive to the naked eye, but Ashara noted a familiar edge.
Each gaze held no reverence or hatred for the Nobles but a calm, collected temperament that observed Ashara and her sisters with neither emotion nor assumption.
It was eerily similar to Cyrus.
"Is it just me, or is this reception a little…frosty?" Sapphire's observation was far from an understatement in Ashara's mind, but what could be expected from a Cohort with Cyrus as its commander.
"They have no respect for their betters." Sapphire's Night Warden, Vaggos muttered under his breath. An assertation quietly supported by his fellow bodyguards as they scowled at the surrounding Legionnaires.
"They have respect, Warden." The Centurion leading their procession spoke up, drawing the eye of all within earshot. "But Lord Cyrus taught us many lessons in the Blighted Marshlands, but one stuck with us more than the rest."
"And what would that be, Zorizar?" Rose inquired with a cocked eye matched by the Legion Officer.
"Trust but verify." Leave it to Cyrus to carve a bunch of green-nosed Guardsmen into apprehensive beacons that gave everything a second glance.
"What's your name, Centurion?" Ashara inquired with an intrigued eye.
"Zorizar, my lady." The Officer gave a small, telling smile before his gaze dipped toward the parchment in her right hand.
"You've seen this document before, haven't you?"
"I have," Zorizar confirmed. "It's a command order from the Primarch himself, but it's sealed with the Renegade sigil. One was handed to Commander Arkias a few hours after Lord Cyrus chose us over the other Cohorts."
"Does that frighten you?"
"No, my Lady."
Ashara believed Zorizar, but she pressed him nonetheless. "Why?"
"Because we only have one Lord." The Centurion approached the Cohort's command tent, where she saw Primus Arkias preparing a proper greeting for Ashara and her sisters. "We will fall to command like the rest of our Legion, but our loyalty in Lord Cyrus is without question."
Zorizar lifted the tent's protective veil, and again the Kimaris Nobles could feel the weight of the encampment on their shoulders. The Centurion stared at the sisters with a glimpse of cautious hope that they could uphold the same values their Lord lives by.
"Welcome to the 10th."
l==l
Arkias was nervous.
It wasn't a foreign sentiment for any Legionary to experience whenever a member of a Noble house made their presence known. Lord Cedric was an enigmatic figure that every member of the 10th Cohort strived to emulate at one point in time.
That was until Lord Cyrus, the future Shadowlord of House Kimaris, elevated the Forsaken as his personal Cohort. Since then, Arkias and his Legionairys have endeavored to uphold his testament in all things.
But this…predicament was entirely outside his comfort zone.
He was in the midst of debriefing his senior officers when Centurion Zorizar arrived at his command tent with several high-profile guests.
To have three daughters of House Kimaris deign the 10th Cohort with their presence alone should have been a great honor for Arkias and his men, but that was far from the first thing that came to his mind.
Cynical distrust ran rampant through the Cohort's ranks after their Lord's subsequent departure for a mission without their immediate support did not ingratiate the 10th to their masters.
They kept sporadic contact with Cyrus, but all memos were short and lacked finite detail.
The only constant was a final dialogue whispered into Arkias's ear from the land of shadows.
Be ready.
And so the Primus kept his men sharp and distant from the rest of the 66th for as long as possible.
The constant clash of ideologies between the 10th and their sister cohorts made this endeavor effortless. The meticulously crafted combat doctrine Lord Cyrus instilled in each of his Guardsmen, and these contrasting styles have led to resounding friction.
His Centurions were doing their best to maintain the 10th's discipline but keeping their men in line was far more complex than imagined.
It's half the reason Arkias made camp on the eastern perimeter of Fort Azalan. The last thing he wanted was to have one of his men kill or get killed by a Guardsmen from the other Cohorts on the eve of Lord Cyrus's next operation.
He was preparing for an inquiry from Lord Cedric anytime now, but he didn't expect his daughters to show up with a command seal at his doorstep in hand.
It was hard to keep the surprise off his face, but quite frankly, the last two years have been nothing short of…unique.
"Is there a problem?" Lady Rose spoke up from the seat across from Arkias.
"No." That was a lie, but no one called him out for it.
The terms in the Primarchs command seal were brief and lacking in detail.
As Arkias could see, neither Noblewoman was to function in a leadership role within the Cohort but instead act as an…attaché.
A cursory glance towards the Highborn Devils revealed a trio of gazes staring holes into the side of his head.
"I will be frank with you, my Lady." Arkias began, sliding the parchment to the side and trying his damndest to keep his voice from cracking. "Your presence here is not…appreciated."
A flash of Griycium steel shimmered in the darkness behind Lady Ashara, and Arkias bristled with concern.
It was an abysmal choice of words.
"Stay your blade, Warden." Centurion Zorizar bared his teeth, blading his body and stepping closer to Arkias' flank. A dozen Legionairys attached to guard the Primus gripped their Lances while warily eyeing the Night Wardens.
"You know better, Centurion." Even by Devil standards, Ashara's Night Warden was a grim man. Bruker took his oath of protection so severely that his fellow Wardens often mocked him for standing so close to her side in even the most mundane circumstances.
It was a commitment that she appreciated time and again.
The Night Warden dipped his Griycium Lance towards Zorizar. "To disrespect, a member of House Kimaris is to court death."
But now wasn't the time for Bruker's aggressive temperament.
"Get out." Ashara's voice was a whisper, but it served to freeze both Warden and Centurion alike, cooling their confrontation before it could turn violent. Her pale grey orbs swept the command tent and found all but Arkias failing to meet her gaze. "All of you."
The pair exchanged gazes of pure vitriol before conceding to the Noble's command. Arkias watched his Guardsmen linger in place, but a subtle dose of infernal energy leaned from Ashara's entire being.
"Now." The Night Warden was the first to evacuate the command tent, followed closely by a dozen Legionnaires and a visibly cowed Zorizar. Rose and Sapphire quietly dismissed their bodyguards, who accepted the command without complaint.
Arkias kept his composure even as the total weight of Ashara's infernal energy weighed upon his shoulders.
The Kimaris patiently waited for the tent's flap to close before diminishing her mana.
"Catch your breath, Arkias." Ashara shifted her weight and leaned against the cushion of her leather seat while allowing him a moment of restitution. "And allow me to explain why we are here."
She exhaled a deep breath, the back of her cranium pushing into the headrest with silent gratification. Her pale eyes glimpsed over Arkias's frame once his breathing steadied.
"My brother and I had a…disagreement." Arkias didn't miss how Sapphire flinched at the reminder and tightly grasped her twin's hand. "It led to a series of events that have left me angry, confused, and…heartbroken."
A multitude of subdued emotions rolled off the Kimaris daughters, all directed at themselves and the world beyond. Arkias didn't trust himself to speak, so he kept his mouth sewn shut and allowed Ashara to continue.
"Cyrus is out of our reach for now, and I have no desire to continue watching him disappear from our lives." Her fingers dug into the armrests of her seat with a wavering voice. "My family has been out of touch with our brother since our House joined the Renegades, and I want to…."
"…No…." Ashara paused. Her once trembling tone disappeared and was replaced with a voice of pure steel. "…I need to understand Cyrus, and there is no better expert on this matter than your Guardsmen Arkias, but I will not force you to accept our presence."
If there was one well-known matter amongst the 66th Legion, it was the 10th Cohort being almost unnaturally loyal to Cyrus.
Ashara could not achieve her goal without the trust of Arkias and his Guardsmen. It was something that even her father understood as he wrote out the decree.
They were depending on Arkias to unlock the secrets of their enigmatic brother.
But he didn't have what they were looking for.
"I cannot help you." Arkias felt their sorrow even if they failed to outwardly express their disappointment. "My men and I have spent nearly two years at his command, but he remains as much of an anomaly to us as he is to you. Our first few weeks in the Blighted Marshlands were meant to break us, anoint us if you will, and he made it a point to stamp out all resistance to his authority…."
Ashara's resigned exhale echoed within the tent. Fate was working against everything she wanted once more.
"…But." The dismay crawling up her throat fell, and her downcast eyes rose to find salvation. "If you are to truly understand his oddities, then you must live as he did."
"And how did he live?" It was Sapphire that asked the question, her voice yearning for answers to a question that haunted her dreams. Rose leaned forward with a demanding aura leaking from her hazel-blue eyes.
"Like a soldier."
l==l
Lucifaad, Lucifaad Territory
"Hey, little man."
Ekko would have torn Vi's head off for that irritating nickname at any other time, but he was distracted by one of her patented bear hugs. She murmured something into his ears that seemingly settled the young Devil's posture.
Their reunion was worth every pain Vi had endured over the last few weeks.
At least, that's what Cyrus assumed from his vantage point.
Ahri and Caitlyn followed Vi into the viper's nest of Lucifaads most prominent insurgent group while he lingered in the shadows. He had little reason to trust the veracity of these militants, no matter how many times Vi tried to assure him otherwise.
Cyrus was expecting a pseudo-military encampment, not a safe haven anchored around a massive tree that resembled Onyx's dense forestry. By his estimations, there had to be a few thousand people living down here, with all their basic necessities met.
The Firelights possessed a surplus of essential products and could sustain their fighters while providing these essentials to a vast community. Insurgent groups rarely supplied civilian communities because direct interaction with the local populace could compromise their operations.
The risk of exposure to a counterinsurgency force significantly increased when civilians were thrown into the mix, often because they weren't obligated to the militant's ideals.
These Firelights were playing with fire by actively using this safe haven as their base of operations. There were too many variables for accidental or deliberate exposure to the inquisitorious should they venture this far into the Underhive.
"How does it look up there, master?" Ahri's alluring voice ghosted over his ears. "I can't be the only one captivated by the majesty of this sanctuary?"
"There are about a hundred eyes on you and Caitlyn," Cyrus relayed. "So I recommend observing your surroundings and not admiring the local wildlife."
"It's called multi-tasking, Master." Ahri let out a bored sigh as she glanced at an equally weary Caitlyn. "And it's not like we have anything else to do. Vi and Ekko have been catching up this whole time, and I haven't gotten a word in. I mean fucking hell, it's like this guy doesn't know we're here."
"Ekko knows, Ahri." Cyrus tempered the Vastayan's irritated mood. "He's just unwilling to conversate with you out in the open."
It wasn't just Firelights keeping an eye on his delegation but also hundreds of civilians who stared at the pair of outsiders with uncertainty. They knew Vi exceedingly well and trusted her judgment in allowing these interlopers into their home, but that didn't mean they would welcome them with open arms.
"Well, they could at least expedite this process," Ahri growled in frustration. "We've been traveling at a snail's pace the entire time, and I am slowly losing my patience."
"Keep your composure." The Vastayans expression turned sour, but she kept her opinion to herself. "You'll be inside the command building soon, and until then, make sure Caitlyn doesn't do anything rash. Her flight or fight instincts will kick in soon if you don't calm her down."
Caitlyn had every reason to fear being recognized by one of these insurgents. During her time as an Inquisitor, the Lucifuge brought in her fair share of Firelights, and if one of them recognized her voice, she would be in for a world of hurt. Cyrus wanted to keep her in the shadows with him, but their relationship was still tenuous.
It didn't speak well when Caitlyn would instead take her chances with the Firelights than be anywhere near Cyrus, and he would have forced her into the shadows had Ahri not convinced him otherwise.
"Caitlyn will be fine, Master. I'd be more worried about the Firelight behind me losing his eyes if he keeps staring at my ass." The Spartan snorted in amusement when he confirmed the sight of Ahri's voyeur inclining his head at a certain angle to appreciate her bodily features.
"If you cared that much about his…appreciation. Then you would wear something that doesn't show as much skin." In some instances, this comment would earn Cyrus a whithering glare of damnation, but since Ahri couldn't exact revenge on her Master.
An unnoticed gravity rune was erected on a staircase she had just stepped over, and the subtle glance Vi shot her way indicated she and the other Firelights had noticed the magical disturbance. Her voyeur, however, was utterly unaware since he was busy trying to catch an eyeful.
A subtle burst of kinetic energy erupted beneath the perverted onlooker mid-step, throwing him off his feet and sending him tumbling down the stairs.
Every meaty crunch produced a hint of delight upon Ahri's lips, but she played the part of concerned bystander well, even if the other Firelights weren't shooting her subtle looks of indignation.
The Firelight Commander rolled his eyes in irritation as Ekko and Vi exchanged a silent but familiar glance. Ekko suddenly raised his right hand in a fist, halting the procession halfway up the stairs, and glowered at the Ahri's voyeur with minor hints of utter annoyance.
"Mallack." The voyeur sobered up, abruptly recognizing that everyone's eyes were fixed upon him. "Pick yourself up and tell Fang to meet me in the mezzanine. The Inquisitorious is going to be out in force tonight."
"Yes, commander." Ahri didn't bother to hide the smug look plastered on her face, and Ekko set her a withering glare before starting back up the staircase.
Maybe sending her as his first point of contact was a poor decision, but at least they wouldn't try to kill her on instinct. Nobles possessed an exceedingly low survival rate down here unless they had a direct lineage to the main Devil houses.
"Satisfied," Cyrus murmured with an annoyed huff.
"Oh, you have no idea." Ahri glanced at an increasingly tense Caitlyn, whose attention remained fixed upon the structure looming over them.
"Good. Now stay focused. I'm displacing to a better vantage point, so don't do anything stupid."
"I aim to please, love." Cyrus didn't respond verbally and slid down the face of a colorful four-story building. He phased with the lingering shadows, keeping himself obscured from sight and leaving the hundreds of roaming Firelights and civilians none the wiser.
Ahri and Caitlyn awkwardly trailed behind Vi while she continued to speak animatedly with Ekko. She threw her arm over his shoulder and subtly led their unlikely party towards a collection of balconies mixed in with the enormous tree.
The multitude of hanging terraces afforded the Firelights a dominating view of the valley below, and it most likely operated as their main command building.
It was the most impregnable structure in the Firelights sanctuary, and as Cyrus glided towards its lower balcony, his eyes were taken by a mural sitting at the base of the evergreen tree. Dozens of distinct faces were meticulously sketched and cared for by a caterer applying a new visage to the massive painting. Below the mural sat dozens of lit candles and other miscellaneous objects that acted as beacons for their loved ones.
Cyrus had seen plenty of monuments to the dead, but this was the first intact memorial he had ever seen. As a Headhunter, he was frequently dispatched to locations the Covenant had thoroughly glassed, leaving nothing but ash and shattered cities in their wake.
The veneration with which these Firelights honored their fallen was hauntingly similar to humanity's tribute to any war or catastrophe in its long history.
And you still think they're different from us.
"They are different from us," Cyrus growled to the Devil portion of his consciousness that continued to espouse these treacherous thoughts. They had only increased in frequency since departing the refugee camp, and he yearned for the malevolent entity's return just so this demonic voice would fall silent.
Whenever the malevolent entity blessed Cyrus with its presence, his devil side scurried for safety.
Thankfully, the Spartan's sanity was saved by Ahri's blessed voice calling out to him.
"We're entering the…Uh…." The Vastayan struggled to define the Firelight strongpoint and settled on the most relevant option. "…Treehouse, I think? Whatever, you know what the hell we're walking into. I'll see you inside."
"I certainly hope not."
If everything went to plan, then Cyrus would have no reason to involve himself in the process. Vi described Ekko as an infallible commander who would easily see the potential to work alongside the Kimaris via an ancient proverb that would remain relevant as long as civilizations warred against one another.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
IF ONLY MY CREATORS AGREED WITH YOU, RECLAIMER.
A black orb emerged from the shadows and hovered precariously over Cyrus's right shoulder. By now, he'd gotten used to the phenomenon's existence and offered no outward reaction to its lingering presence.
"Then you're creators were idiots."
A booming chuckle caused a rippling effect through the darkness, but Cyrus was the only one to notice its consequences. Evidently, the malevolent spirit found his scathing remarks amusing.
THEIR TRANSGRESSION EVENTUALLY LED TO THEIR DAMNATION.
It spoke in a forlorn tone, but there was an underlying contempt for those that created this abdominal creature. The entity rarely spoke in anything but riddles or scorn making this the first genuine conversation between Spartan and Shadow.
Cyrus was openly curious about the creature's origins, and there was no greater inquiry gnawing at his psyche than the fate of those who produced such a maddening abomination.
YOU HAVE NOTHING TO CONCERN YOURSELF WITH, RECLAIMER. MY CREATORS ARE NO MORE A THREAT THAN YOU COVENANT.
The Spartan's gait froze, and his eyes glossed over as a torrent of memories assailed his vision.
This creature should have no knowledge of the Covenant or the atrocities he endured in the name of mankind. Cyrus should have ended the discussion there, but his inquisitive inclinations got the better of him once more.
He glimpsed towards the phantom sphere and found three amber orbs looming in the darkness. "How do you know about the Covenant?"
I KNOW EVERYTHING, RECLAIMER. YOUR PAST. YOUR FUTURE. YOU ARE THE SIRE OF MY MAKERS AND INHERITOR OF ALL THEY LEFT BEHIND. MY CREATORS WERE SILENCED BY A WEAPON OF THEIR OWN DESIGN.
"This…weapon." Cyrus tentatively replied. "Is it a concern?"
An inhuman chuckle greeted his ears.
NOT IN THIS REALITY, RECLAIMER.
Cyrus huffed in relieved amusement. "Guess there are small mercies in this world."
"Master," Ahri's voice interrupted their stifling conversation. "We're inside the mezzanine, and you may want to get inside soon."
"For what reason?" Cyrus wanted to avoid an early face-to-face with Ekko until he could verify a collaboration was practical.
"Well…Caitlyn just took a hostage." He blinked in pure disbelief, even as another round of booming laughter echoed in the deep.
Nothing ever really goes to plan.
l==l
"What possessed you to bring an Inquisitor down here?!"
In hindsight, Vi probably should have realized that it was only a matter of time before one of the Firelights figured out Caitlyn was an Inquisitor.
Everything was going well in the beginning.
Ahri managed to establish a typical dialogue, and Ekko was receptive to at least the makings of a joint venture. This initial contact served as an introductory icebreaker to gauge reactions and complaints before an official meeting occurred.
Cyrus didn't want to immediately expose himself to the Firelights or any other dissident organizations in the Underhive.
Patience was integral to his overall plans, and using an emissary was a textbook political maneuver intended to avoid any official links to a single group.
Ekko understood this concept better than Ahri had initially thought possible.
The boy held a keen mindset unmarred by the waves of fury that continued to pulse from every pore in his skin.
Fang, one of Ekko's chief lieutenants, was increasingly suspicious of the innocuous women trying to hide underneath the shadow of a drawn cloak. Ahri tried to play it off as Caitlyn being unconscionably shy, but that distraction barely held its own foundation.
And once the hood came loose and Fang was allowed to stare into that magnificent shade of purple, his temper boiled like a volcano.
Caitlyn barely managed to avoid the stab at her jugular from an adjacent Firelight before wrapping an arm around her would-be killer's neck and pressing an icy finger to his temple.
Now a tense stalemate broke out with Ahri and Caitlyn back to back, surrounded by a dozen Firelights armed with a mixture of Griycium Lancers and swords. Vi stood in front of Caitlyn with her arms spread wide in a bid to prevent more violence.
It wasn't very effective.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time." The Brawler retorted with a stern tone. "I mean, look at her. She's harmless!"
Fang immediately took issue with Vi's statement and aimed a Griycium lance toward the Lucifuge.
"That 'harmless' bitch!" Caitlyn twisted her hostage towards the Firelight Lieutenant as he stepped towards her. "Threw Kornavs crew in the Pit two weeks ago, and we haven't seen them since."
That shot down any hope of painting Caitlyn in a favorable light and had the intended effect of riling up the other Firelights.
"Give me the word, boss, and we can put her down."
"F-Fucking shoot her already." Caitlyn's hostage sputtered out in between gasps of air.
"Woah, now! Everybody calm down and take a deep breath."
"You take a deep breath, Vi!" Fang retorted sharply. "Because bringing an Inquisitor here is the dumbest fucking thing you've ever done."
"We should kill them both." That comment earned a Firelight Ahri's full attention, brandishing a pair of ki daggers to skewer anyone who dared take a step.
"Just try it, pumpkin." That Vastayan spoke with a coolness that set the other Firelights on edge. "Because I can guarantee it won't end well for you."
"Vi, get control of the Inquisitor!" Ekko demanded from his seated position as his fingers wrapped around the glowing sword strapped to his waist. Vi immediately shifted to the right and placed herself directly between Caitlyn and Ekko.
Of all the Firelights Vi was worried about, Ekko was at the top of the list.
With Caitlyn taking one of his men hostage, the Firelight Commander would be very uncooperative, which would only irritate Cyrus more.
Vi hoped the Kimaris didn't come in here swinging because she'd seen the violence he could inflict, and the Firelights would be hard-pressed to take him down.
"I'm not an inquisitor anymore!" Caitlyn's declaration earned her a snort of baseless humor from Ekko, and his fingers began to slide into the hook of his glowing sword.
"Only an idiot would take that at face value." Violence was inevitable, and Vi was hopelessly caught in an unwinnable struggle.
That was until Cyrus finally arrived.
His influence beckoned a wave of uncertainty that seeped into the skin of every Devil.
Heartbeats raced, and fear coursed through their veins as an undeniable presence strode into the room.
A humanoid figure shrouded in a black shadow approached the stalemate without hesitation, disregarding the Griycium lances that threatened to pierce its ethereal form.
Many Devils flinched on instinct when the darkness ebbed away and revealed a Devil wrapped in clothing more befitting the dredges of the Underhive than a Noble.
But there was no mistaking his power, his influence.
This Devil was a member of the 72 Pillars, and even the most stubborn Firelight was compelled to kneel in his presence.
The Devils of Lucifaads Underhive were unclaimed, making them easily beholden to the wills of the Ars Goetia Nobility.
However, the four great Satans could not expend the time or effort in subduing the Underhive during the Civil War, and their Extra Demon servants lacked the influence and charisma to subjugate the masses.
It's why the Inquisitorious constantly orchestrated purges inside the Warrens and Underhive.
Fear was their tool of the trade, and it has worked to perfection for decades.
In that moment of uncertainty, Ekko feared that this Noble would forcibly conscript the Firelights into his services, and his hand tightly grasped his blade.
However, before he could strike, the Nobles' influence faded into obscurity, leaving the Devils in a sound state of mind.
This sudden dissipation of power only served to confuse thoroughly confuse the Firelights. The figure pulled the brim of his hood back, revealing a daunting pair of crimson orbs and a youthful visage barely a few years older than Ekko.
"The girl is no more an Inquisitor than I am a Loyalist." The Noble spoke in a neutral yet intimidating voice that demanded respect, and Ekko reluctantly gave it.
"Are you Ahri's master, my Lord?" Ekko gestured his subordinates to lower the weapons, and they gradually followed his command, even if a few would prefer a different set of orders.
"Yes, and I would prefer if the…former Inquisitor remained unharmed."
Ekko's eyes squinted with uncertainty. "For what reason?"
"Caitlyn is the white sheep of her family," Cyrus explained. "Hopelessly naïve and born with a heart that cares for the unfortunate few. She possesses all of their raw power and none of their ruthless nature, but that does not mean she is helpless."
The hostage held in the crook of her arm proved that fact, but Ekko also noted the wary glances she shot her supposed savior's way.
"She's as scared of you as my men are." The Firelight commented and turned back towards Cyrus. "Why is that?"
"I frighten many who stand in my presence for reasons that would drive most Devils mad." It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that Cyrus's mind was the definition of insanity, with two distinct voices that constantly waylaid him at random intervals.
"What Noble clan are you from?" Ekko questioned. "And why have you graced Lucifaad with your presence?"
"My name is Cyrus of House Kimaris, and I am here to enact a radical destabilization of the Loyalist government by eliminating their deadliest asset. One that you have a vested interest in seeing gone."
Ekko dwelt on the Noble's words, and his mind immediately shot to a single name that struck fear into the hearts of every Devil in the Underhive.
"Grayfia Lucifuge?" Ekko inquired in disbelief that Fang and the other Firelights mirrored. His subordinates would have spoken their misgivings if they weren't afraid of drawing the Noble's attention.
"Correct." The impossibility of his statement was lost on Cryus. "Her position inside Lucifaad is as much an issue for you as it is for the Legions laying siege outside these walls."
Ekko had to continually tell himself that a civil war was underway, but the sheer size of Lucifaad made any siege practically impossible to carry out effectively. The city was a self-sufficient metropolis that didn't depend on outside resources to meet the basic needs of its inhabitants.
This…meeting with the Kimaris Lord finally brought the war to his immediate attention, but not for the reasons he had wanted.
"And you want to use the Firelights to take her down?" Ekko scoffed in disinterest. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're not exactly packing the raw firepower to take her in a straight fight, and that's not including the fact she never leaves the Eternal Palace."
"You don't need to worry about the Lucifuge. She's my problem to handle." Again his words utterly confounded the surrounding Firelights. "All I require is the manpower to keep the Inquisitorious and garrisoned Legions occupied while I draw her out."
"And how exactly are you going to do that?"
"I can tell you, but only in private."
A tense silence settled into the mezzanine as Ekko glared into Cyrus's unphased expression. The confidence he was exhuming was damn near impressive after his complete disregard for the scariest woman in Lucifaad.
Fang and the other Firelights stood in rapt attention while Ahri and Caitlyn kept their weapons trained upon the insurgents. Vi came to Cyrus's side, her eyes shifting between the Noble and the Firelight Commander.
She would have said something had Ekko not spoken up, a declaration that stunned his followers.
"Clear the room." Fang was the first to recover, dropping his lance and stepping toward his chosen leader.
"Commander, I strongly oppose this-" Ekko shot a scathing glance towards his second in command that rooted him in place.
"Now, Fang." His tone brokered no argument, and the Firelight wisely followed his leader's command.
"As you wish." Fang motioned for his men to move out, and the Firelights grudgingly exited the mezzanine. Caitlyn let her hostage fall to the ground, enabling the insurgent to depart while giving a withering stare towards his captor.
"Vi." The Brawler turned towards her adopted brother. "Keep your friends company. The Noble and I have business to discuss."
"You got it." Vi knew when to make a hasty exit, so she waved for Ahri and Caitlyn to follow. "Let's do some exploring, ladies."
"Anything to get out of this stuffy room." The Vastayan commented, the ki daggers in her hand dissipating into thin air. "I'm sure cupcake could use a drink or two right about now."
"Fuck you, Ahri." Caitlyn replied with some level of exasperation that earned a hearty laugh from Vi.
"I love you guys."
The slamming doors muffled whatever else was spoken between the trio leaving Cyrus and Ekko in subdued silence.
The Firelight Commander turned on his heel, sat at the head of a long table, and motioned for Cyrus to join him.
The Kimaris slid into the cushioned seat while Ekko grilled him for a miscellaneous question. "I can presume that none of my men outside these were hurt?"
"The only thing in pain is their pride." The Firelight hummed in thought but didn't speak for a few tense seconds.
The incredulous nature of this conversation wasn't lost on either Devil. By sharing a table with Ekko, Cyrus had willingly placed them both on even ground in this discussion, something a Noble would never do.
This was…odd, and Ekko sought to break the ice in dialogue by bringing up a well-known topic.
"When I heard House Kimaris had declared for the Renegades, I assumed this war would reach a rapid conclusion." The war should have ended a year ago, but circumstances outside his understanding prevented such a thing, and now it was entering its fourth decade."
"You were not the only one with those expectations, but reality is often disappointing."
"So is fantasy." Ekko retorted. "Nonetheless, I don't have any reason to assume the Renegades can offer a better tomorrow than the Loyalists. What guarantees do I have that I am not trading four tyrants for a hundred more?"
Anyone else would have lied out of their teeth or manipulated Ekko into joining their side, but Cyrus was different.
Why risk a lie that could easily be discerned when the truth is far easier to utilize.
"I can't guarantee that things will change if the Renegades take the city, but I can assure you a seat at the drawing table when this civil war is over." The Firelight Commander's eyes brightened with interest. "My father is an honorable man; if you contribute to my cause, you will have a place to make your demands public."
"And why would they listen?" It was the ultimate setback for Cyrus' validation, but he understood how to assuage Ekko's concerns.
"They won't have any other choice. Devils have never known peace because the civil war began not scant days after our war with Heaven and the Fallen. The people yearn for an ending to the conflicts that continue to soak the countryside in the blood of their sons and daughters. If the Underhive were to revolt after the Renegades took Lucifaad, then Devil society would collapse."
"What makes you think I have the power to lead a revolt?" This time Cyrus's eyes blazed with amusement that set Ekko on edge.
"Because you have the ear of every insurgent group in Lucifaad, and the Inquisitorious has a bounty on you that eclipses anyone else in the city. You don't get that high of a price unless you've been making waves around town…." The Kimaris rose to his feet, seemingly satisfied with this dialogue and content to offer Ekko parting words.
"…Let me be clear. I am not forcing you into a partnership. I am simply making it known that you are my first choice."
"That's it?" The Firelight replied in genuine surprise. "No threats, no false promises to convince me to throw my men under your banner?"
"No." Cyrus proclaimed. "I'm looking for volunteers. Not slaves. If I wanted that, I would have joined the Loyalists."
The Firelight let out a disbelieving hum and gave the Kimaris a leveled gaze. "You truly are an anomaly, Lord Cyrus."
"So everyone keeps telling me."
"I'm sure they do…." Ekko leaned into his chair. "I'll consider a partnership under one condition."
"Name it." There was a change in Cyrus's posture that turned away from the poised stance of a political officer towards a more…violent disposition.
"There is a parasite that has challenged every effort to unite the gangs and insurgent groups under my leadership, and I need him dead."
"What's the target?"
"The same place you're walking into," Ekko remarked. "The Inquisitorious Spire has stood as the prime symbol of oppression for the Underhive. You bring down that Spire, and you'll have more than just my men at your beck and call."
Cyrus didn't hesitate to answer the call to arms.
"Consider it done." The ease with which he accepted the task left Ekko with another bout of genuine confusion.
"Are you…sure you don't want to make a counteroffer?"
Ekko didn't mean to be condescending, but Cyrus was banking on his integrity. Something a Devil should never rely upon, but the Kiamris quickly reminded the Firelight of who he was dealing with.
A hand reached out and grasped Ekko's shoulder, and his gaze trailed away from Cyrus towards a blackened humanoid figure with claws as sharp as any Griycium lance. A predatory smile showed off rows of razor-sharp teeth, and only then did he realize that the Kimaris held all the cards.
Cyrus only allowed him to think he was in charge of the dialogue.
"Do not take my acceptance for weakness, Ekko." The Spartan warning was furthered by the shadowy creature tightening grip. "I simply don't have time to debate the politics of this war, but rest assured, if I find you lacking in spirit or integrity, you will be the first to know. Are we clear?"
Ekko swallowed hard and gave Cyrus a slow nod. "Crystal."
"Excellent." The dark humanoid was sent back to the depths it came from, and the weighted pressure disappeared along with it. The Firelight took a moment to himself and watched the Kimaris make for the exit, but just as Cyrus reached the door, Ekko called out to him.
"I do have a question before you go." The Spartan inclined his head, permitting him to continue on. "Who's the girl? Is she someone important to the Loyalists?
"Caitlyn is the tool that will bring Grayfia Lucifuge out of hiding."
"Why's that?"
"They're sisters." Ekko did a spit take, and his brows widened in complete shock.
"Are you telling me Vi brought an Inquisitor and a Lucifuge into my home?"
"Among a collection of other lost souls," Cyrus glanced at Ekko from the corner of his eyes. "Yes, but Caitlyn has as much invested in a Renegade victory as you do. Her time in the Inquisitorious disillusioned her of the supposed honor her house once stood for, and now she will take up the sword against her own family to save as many lives as possible."
"A Noble with a heart." An incredulous thought for one born in Lucifaad. "I was wondering why Vi, of all people, would come to her defense. "
"Is that all?"
"Just one more." This question had been gnawing at Ekko for a while, and there was no better time to seek an answer. "Why come to us for help?"
"The Firelights are the most prominent group in the Underhive." Cyrus turned towards Ekko, his crimson orbs delving into the Firelight. "Wouldn't you seek the best fighters Lucifaad has to offer?"
"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you." Ekko replied as he stood to his feet. "You are a Noble who willingly traveled to the ass end of Lucifaad to meet with 'terrorists.' You're kind, Loyalist, and Renegade would rather die than come here asking for help."
"I am an outlier to the equation known as Nobles. My very being contrasts the indulging values my peers express for all to see…." There was a hidden emotion to Cyrus's tone that Ekko found increasingly, and it only added to the Kimaris' enigmatic disposition.
"…I am, and always will be, an anomaly."
Cyrus stepped out of the mezzanine, leaving Ekko with a single thought that would define just how different the Kimaris was.
"I wish we had more anomalies."
l==l
Cyrus went to work almost as soon as they left the Firelight stronghold.
Idle hands are useless hands, and he wasn't inclined to sit around while time was of the essence.
Vi, in particular, was eager to march on the Inquisitorious Spire.
There was a deep hatred blazing within her eyes.
The kind of hatred that dampened pain and extinguished all forms of regret.
Vi wanted Spire destroyed more than any Inquisitor she'd come across, and that was a circumstance expressing how much loathing flowed through her veins.
It reminded Cyrus of his own internal contempt for the Covenant; in that way, he could emphasize Vi's blight.
But that didn't mean he would let her feelings interfere with his prerogatives.
Before they marched, Cyrus wanted as much information about the Inquisitorious Spire as possible.
Vi understood the Spire's internal workings, but there was more to infiltration than a simple floor layout. They needed outlines on barracks, patrol routes, mustering stations, exit points.
Anything and everything was on the table for this op.
Including his Cohort.
He summoned them one and all to the darkest reaches of the Shadow Realm, far from his family's notice.
And they answered the call without hesitation.
"This is a bold move, my lord." Arkias, his ever-trustworthy right hand, was accustomed to Cyrus's seemingly erratic and aggressive nature.
But this plan to tear down the Inquisitorious Spire was unlike anything he'd seen before.
The strategy was still missing more than a few key points, but the fact remained that Cyrus wanted to utilize all 3,000 Legionnaires of the 10th Cohort on a lightning raid against one of Lucifaad's most impregnable strongholds.
"I have to agree." Centurion Zorizar, commander of the 1st Centuria, interjected. "Our recent campaigns have not prepared us for an operation of this scale behind enemy lines."
"Tophet and Nova Babylon alone were difficult undertakings, but we had local support. This one will be conducted solely by our Cohort, and I'm not sure we'll come out of this unscathed."
"We won't," Cyrus affirmed their growing suspicions before mere skepticism could turn into doubt. "I know the sheer undertaking we are about to wade into, but we don't have a choice. The Siege of Lucifaad has already lasted far too long, and every day we fight this civil war is another day for Heaven or the Grigori's intervention. We need to end this war, and destroying this Spire will bring us one step closer."
"What of our Primarch?" Centurion Silgimez spoke up. "We received orders to reinforce our defensive line at Antora in two days. We'll be charged with treason if we abandon our posts."
"You let me worry about that. Until then, I want everyone combat-ready. As soon as I receive the intel I'm looking for, we'll be boots on the ground. Any questions?"
For a long moment, no one dissented, and Cyrus was seconds away from dismissing them back to camp when Arkias spoke up.
"I have something." There was a weariness to his voice that piqued Cyrus's interest.
"What is it, Arkias?"
"Our Cohort received a few…attaches in your absence."
Cyrus looked Arkias up and down, only to find him pointedly looking elsewhere. When he looked at his Centurions, they were mindlessly occupying themselves, exploring the vast darkness of the Shadow Realm.
That was…concerning.
"What kind of attache?" Cyrus ventured, but Arkias was not the one to answer.
"The family kind." A shade of silver hair broke through the darkness, and once again, Cyrus was face to face with someone he'd hoped to avoid for a bit longer. Ashara shared a long look with her estranged brother before glancing toward their captive audience. "You can leave."
Despite every fiber of their being demanding an immediate evacuation, Arkias and his men didn't move an inch until Cyrus dismissed them with a wordless nod.
They wisely fell to command, leaving their Lord to handle the most persistent problem in his existence.
Siblings.
"Why are you here?" Ashara's eyes briefly flashed with hurt but hardened just as quickly. When she failed to answer promptly, Cyrus released a dismissive snort and marched off, but she wouldn't let him go so soon.
"I want to talk."
"Because that has gone so swimmingly for both of us."
"I'm trying to be nice." Ashara bit down the indignation before it could fester. It wouldn't do her any good here. "I could have brought the twins, but I didn't want to ambush you."
A piece of Cyrus thanked her for not taking that route. The twins were endearing, and while he never had a problem with them, they mimicked their sister's blunt approach with overzealous affection.
And he wasn't in the mood to deal with them anytime soon.
"You didn't answer my question." Cyrus deflected.
"I know everything."
That confession threw him for a momentary spell, and he would have dismissed her entirely were it not for her eyes.
They told a story unto themselves.
"And what exactly do you know." Cyrus would have her say it out loud.
"I know about the Covenant." The words were voiced with the same distaste and revulsion he felt every time he spoke of them.
Cyrus had a feeling Cedric wouldn't be able to keep his past under wraps for long, not since his untimely departure.
Still, that knowledge should have stayed buried.
Cyrus let her words linger for a few seconds before replying. "Knowing and understanding are two different things, and you are incapable of the latter."
"Why?" Ashara uncomfortably shuffled near him yet continued to try and display some form of confidence in her words.
It failed.
"You're a Devil, Ashara. You weren't made to understand. You were crafted in the image of a man who sought to strike out against the heavens."
"So were you."
Cyrus said nothing.
She found a chink in his armor, a similarity between his existence and theirs that, while it didn't match in design, it most certainly corresponded.
Spartans were created to fight the Covenant.
Devils were designed to combat Heaven.
And wasn't that just a novel parallel.
Cyrus kept to himself, but his calm disposition did nothing to hide the broiling thoughts behind the façade.
Ashara knew she could hurl every argument possible at her brother, but he was as tenacious as the rest of their family. She came here to find common ground or, at the very least, insert the idea into Cyrus's stubborn mind.
Mending their broken relationship would take time, and Devils often had plenty to spare.
"I didn't come here argue or even convince you that I understand every wrong inflicted upon you." She let out a hollow chuckle. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to either, but I can tell you this…."
A swirl of black tendrils beckoned toward Ashara, and Cyrus watched blankly as the darkness clung to her form like a second layer of skin.
"…No matter what happens. This family will always love you, Cyrus…."
Ashara slowly returned to reality, but a final note echoed in the vast spaces of the Shadow Realm.
"…Never forget that."
l==l
Vi led the unlikely trio of Vastayan, Kimaris, and Lucifuge into the one place in the Underhive where secrets were hard to keep.
A nightclub called the Velvet Room.
Its proprietor Madame Trixana was a former Legionnaire of the 8th Incaris Legion under House Belphedor. Her tenure in the personal armies of House Beelzebub came to a disgraceful end when she was guilty of treason after providing safe passage to civilians in lieu of executing a full-frontal assault upon the gates of Asatarus in the early years of the Civil War.
Trixana fled to the Underhive, where she would quickly instill herself as one of its more prominent figures. Most believe her club's primary source of income was the exquisite dancers or seductive succubi, who plied their customers for all their worth, but in reality, her primary trade is knowledge.
The Velvet Room is a hotbed of loose lips and short-lived secrets willingly spilled by devils from all walks of life. Inquisitors make up only a fraction of its customers, but those fools often bellyache their problems in the secluded sections of the club.
Vi trusted her word above all else, and if anyone in the city knew where Silco was hiding, it was Trixana. She stopped her companions short of a steel doorway tucked away in the dark corner of an alleyway adjacent to the club's main entrance.
A select few could utilize this route to bypass the club's consistently crowded entryway, and Vi qualified as one of those fortunate due to Trixana's prior relationship with Vander. The former Legionnaire was a confidant to the exiled Noble of House Nebiros, and his death affected her as much as his daughters.
Vi and Trixana found solace in one another's anguish, and the latter consistently allowed the former to stay at her nightclub whenever she wished.
Vi, however, had to adhere to specific guidelines, which needed to be extensively communicated to her...friends? It was hard to figure out where this odd mixture of capable devils was to one another. Ahri and Caitlyn had their own peculiarities that Vi found endearing, but Cyrus was a whole other batch of crazy that kept her from classifying him as anything but an acquaintance at best.
It wasn't easy to make friends with someone who could snap your neck at a moment's notice.
The pink-haired woman splayed her hand against the steel doorway and glanced curiously at her lingering companions.
Ahri leaned her weight on one leg, highlighting her inherent elegance even as she smiled. It was a natural posture, but Vi saw it as a predator quietly awaiting its prey to fall for its snare.
Caitlyn was far more reserved. Her left hand gently touched the hilt of her lance while her anxious gaze glanced up and down the deserted alleyway before eventually settling on the stalwart Noble, who mystified every Devil he encountered.
Cyrus basked in the shadows like a child who welcomed the tender embrace of his mother, and the subtle tendrils that constantly licked at his frames were more than a little disconcerting. He ignored Caitlyn's frightful eyes to give Vi his full undivided attention, and those crimson orbs were as terrifying as they were captivating.
It made her following question that much more embarrassing.
"Have either of you been to a nightclub before?" Vi ignored the disbelieving huff of amusement from Ahri and focused on the more…socially inept members.
"No," Caitlyn quietly answered, earning a confident nod of reassurance from Vi and Ahri for reasons lost to all parties involved.
"Yes," Cyrus spoke up, causing Vi's expression to falter and her eyes to immediately scan for deception in those blazing orbs.
She found none.
"Really?" Caitlyn questioned before Vi could attempt a subtle examination. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes." Ahir nodded at her subtle glance of confirmation. Clearly, the Vastayan held Cyrus's confidence in some form or, at the very least, knew what made her Master tick better than most he interacted with.
"Alright then," Vi relented with a shrug. "I wouldn't peg you as someone who indulged in his lust very often."
"Trust me, Vi." The Vastayan intervened. "Desire is the last thing that's on Cyrus's mind."
"And how would you know that?"
"Trade secret." The beautifying smile playing on Ahri's lips clawed at Vi's innate curiosity, but she knew better than to delve into the rabbit hole.
"I bet it is." The Brawler acquiesced to the silent demand for a change in subject and returned to her first order of business. "This nightclub has its own rules, and we will follow them to the letter. Keep your weapons sheathed, and magic snuffed out. Trixana has wards all over the place to detect all types of arcana, and if she finds us tampering, then it's my ass on the line, not yours. Understand?"
"Yes." Caitlyn and Ahri's verbal guarantees should have calmed her misgivings, but Cyrus's lack of agreement added to her fears.
He just stared at her with an unreadable gaze that unsettled any who caught his notice, but eventually, there was a silent and nearly unnoticeable nod that finally settled Vi's misgivings.
"Stay close." Vi smashed her hand against the steel doorway, and its single-eye shutter slid open at its attendant's leisure. The Brawler leaned close enough to occupy most of the bouncer's vision, but she left enough space for him to glance over her companions.
No words were spoken between the two, but a momentary battle of wills broke out in their narrow gazes. Kelarn was the only bouncer Trixana entrusted with monitoring the VIP access without being tarnished by greed or desire.
After all, Kelarn's obsessions centered around his less-than-reputable thoughts of his boss and what he wished he could do to Trixana. But these dreams would forever be locked into his mind and never grace reality.
Kelarn reluctantly allowed Vi's company to pass through. His heavy grunts of irritation were the only signs of opposition, but his gaze soon turned immodest as the Vastayan's fragrance settled into his senses.
His attention was drawn to Ahri's magnificence and Caitlyn's reserved beauty, and as they walked by, his broad frame tracked their every stride until he was obstructing the entranceway.
A circumstance that Cyrus was less than pleased to experience.
"Move." One word and a single hand sent Kelarn sprawled against the wall with an emphasizing thud. All manner of fury crept into the bouncer's bones with full intent on retaliation, but a single glance of his adversary's crimson orbs silenced all resistance.
As Kelarn struggled against the overwhelming mass bearing down on his shoulders, his heart froze, and his lungs exhaled like a broken machine, spewing out incohesive breaths.
"Come now, love." Ahri's desirable voice ghosted over Cyrus's ear as she draped an arm over his shoulder. "He's not worth it."
Kelarn's pride took a cutting blow at the mere thought of mercy due to irrelevance, but Ahri's words stemmed the Noble's ire. Cyrus slowly lowered the bouncer until his feet touched the carpet, and Kelarn was unceremoniously dropped.
The Kimaris turned on his heel and walked away without a glance backward, earning an exasperated look from Vi and an unreadable glance from Caitlyn. Ahri spared the bouncer a salacious wink and sauntered off hot on her Master's trail with a pleased grin.
"What did I say about fighting?" Vi's admonishments were met with a simple shrug from Cyrus.
"It takes two to fight." Cyrus retorted. "And I can assure you he didn't put up much of one."
"Whatever." Vi dragged a hand down her face in frustration, but she quickly regathered her composure and ushered her companions along. "Keep your hands to yourself unless someone swings at you. Ahri, you're on babysitting duty."
"With pleasure." The Vastayan looped an arm through her Master's even as he growled in displeasure. "Now, let's move before Cyrus ends up killing some poor sod for looking at the goods."
"He was in my way." Cyrus denied taking action in their so-called defense, but Ahri wasn't willing to let his words influence her.
"Oh, I'm sure." Caitlyn and Vi traded knowing glances, but neither commented on the pair's byplay. The Brawler led her companions into the illustrious nightclub. The finely carpeted floors muffled their footsteps as they bypassed private rooms on either side of the corridor. Only a thin drape provided some form of privacy for these secluded compartments.
Caitlyn's eye was drawn to more than a few…performances behind these curtains, but Cyrus's muffled pace kept her from indulging in her curiosity. Ahri, however, had little problem sating her interests, and she subtly pulled back the drapes to spy on the private encounters like the annoying voyeur Vi pegged her to be.
"What exactly are we looking for in this…." Caitlyn hesitated to call this club for what it was out of respect for Vi's friend. "…fine establishment."
"Information," Vi replied, drawing back a seclusion drape and stepping into an expansive room with her arms spread wide. "Welcome to the Velvet Room."
Cyrus glanced over the lightly colored tapestries with a clinical eye. The Velvet room was like any other nightclub he'd been to, containing an expansive bar with no less than half a dozen attendants catering to nearly a hundred guests. Tables and booths were intricately placed in such a way as to maximize space while also keeping parties separated enough for everyone to avoid feeling claustrophobic.
The carpet floors gave way to a marble surface that gave off a resounding clack upon every step. Cyrus would have found that particular noise annoying were it not for the blaring music from an elevated dance floor at the club's center. Intricate orbs of red danced upon the rooftop, showering those below in a beautifying ray of crimson that lit up every inch of space.
It was a colorful and eye-catching spectacle that should have left every patron buzzing with interest and awe.
Cyrus was not interested in these theatrics, and his gaze scanned the dense crowds for resounding issues. Several bouncers in the bar peered at him suspiciously, indicating that their colleague had alerted them of his conduct.
They made no attempt to intercept their group, either out of fear or in obedience to an instruction from above. Ahri incited a reaction by waving at the bouncers, and he would have halted her antics if he wasn't busy scanning the crowd for any significant threats.
"Trixana will be in her office," Vi leaned against an open bar section and gestured to an overhanging room with glass windows. "And I'd rather go with just one of you to keep her from asking too many questions."
"Sounds good to me," Ahri spoke up. "While you play diplomat, I'll look around and see what kind of intel I can ply out of the local inquisitors."
"Who's going with you?" Caitlyn asked, her eyes staring back at Vi with a silent desire to accompany her to see Trixana. The pair had struck up a cordial friendship despite their contrasting backgrounds. Ahri remained Caitlyn's closest confidant, but her constant proximity next to Cyrus kept her away from the Vastayan.
Until now.
"I am." Cyrus proclaimed without hesitation. "Ahri, take Caitlyn and see if you can find anyone stationed at the tower. Once you do, give them a marker."
The word piqued Caitlyn's interest.
"A marker?" She inquired with a furrowed brow.
"Something for later use." Cyrus didn't elaborate, and a sharp nod toward Ahri had her grabbing the Inquisitor by the arm.
"As you command." She wasted no time in dragging Caitlyn off to another section of the bar under the slightest bit of protest.
He watched the pair prey on a group of Inquisitors teetering on the edge of drunkenness while failing at sweet-talking Ahri. Caitlyn took a position close enough to the Vastayan to direct her efforts while watching her six.
"When do we meet her?" Cyrus inquired as he kept his back to the wall next to Vi.
"She'll come to us when she's ready. Your spat with the bouncer drew some attention, but his buddies aren't stupid enough to come after you."
"Hey, bartender!" Vi called out to a bespectacled man cleaning off a pair of glasses. "What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
"Vi?" The bartender blinked once, then twice, before his features took on a disbelieving yet incredibly relieved look. He hastily strode towards the counter, grasping Vi's outstretched hand and pulling her close enough to give her a firm hug.
She returned the embrace by tightening her arms around his torso and allowing him to exhale a deep sigh of relief. Cyrus stepped away from the bartop and allowed Vi a moment of reprieve while he returned to his favorite pastime.
People watching.
Interactions between people can often be amusing, but sometimes there is knowledge in the most superficial conversation. A lack of materials for one business may drive groups to seek out black-market suppliers in another district.
A man bellyaching to his coworkers about problems with his borough's water supply may lead to a local gang's tampering with the reservoirs.
Each and every speck of otherwise useless knowledge was obtained and categorized while Vi struck up a conversation with her compatriot. Most who caught Cyrus's scrutinizing gaze immediately looked elsewhere, leaving him to his internal machinations.
Minutes passed before he opted to return to Vi's side, and once he closed the distance, he felt a pair of eyes boring into his skull. Cyrus traced the firm gaze towards the overhanging room belonging to the club's proprietor.
He could feel the hairs on his skin stand to attention even as the rumbling beat of music and bellicose conversation fell into a muffled silence.
"Welcome to the Velvet Room, my Lord." Trixana's voice echoed from nearly every direction, and Cyrus sent out a subtle pulse of arcana to dissipate the barrier surrounding him. His surroundings returned to life in a mere instance, but his attention never left the Devil who dared to infiltrate his mind.
With her connection broken, Trixana opted to wave Cyrus towards her office with an enticing wave of her fingers. The Spartan's eyes narrowed upon the woman's shadow, and within a blink he stood a mere foot away from the woman's eerily calm form.
Trixana's lips curled into a seductive smile, and her emerald orb gleamed as she stared defiantly into Cyrus's crimson orbs.
"It's been a long time since one of your kind has been in the Underhive." Her voice was a sensual melody playing on a Devil's lust with practical ease.
Trixana threaded her syllables and let her tone dictate her intentions, stringing them along and playing with others like a child would a toy.
Cyrus could feel her aroma settling into his senses, and if he were a lesser man, then Trixana could have had him wrapped around her fingers. His mind cleared out of all thoughts, leaving behind an empty husk that threw the woman for a startling loop.
And yet she laughed all the same when she realized just how determined Cyrus was to avoid her temptations. Trixana twirled away, the slit of her velvet red gown flowing alongside her seductive form directly as she sat upon her desk. Her figure-hugging dress flowed to her ankles, but a slit on either side revealed delectable thighs.
Trixana was the pure definition of a femme fatale, as deadly as she was elegant.
"When Nobles come down here, it's usually at the head of an army." Trixana began with a smile. "But here you stand with little more than a single bodyguard. I don't know if that makes you brave or stupid, but I can say with certainty that you have drawn the interest of everyone in the Underhive. I hope that was your intention."
"It was." Cyrus acquiesced, closing the gap between them with two long strides while the shadows licked at his frame. "But I'm not here for a popularity contest."
"Than what are you here for, my lord." It was clear by Trixana's constant reference to his standing that she knew little of his background and only retained the knowledge that Cyrus held a direct lineage to one of the 72 Pillars. "I doubt you came here to tour our humble home, especially not with Vi, of all people, as a guide."
"I disagree. Vi knows the Underhive like the back of her hand, and if anyone can lead me towards my ultimate goal, it's her." She frowned at his response but kept from exploring the subject further.
"Maybe." Trixana acquiesced with a lengthy sigh. "But you'll forgive me for worrying about my little spitfire being around a Noble who desires to take on the entirety of Lucifaad. Your little spat with Silco has a helluva power vacuum, and everyone from gangster to Inquisitor seeks to fill that vacuum."
"Does that include you?"
"To a certain degree." The Devil reached for a pair of wine glasses filled with red wine. She extended one to Cyrus, and he tentatively accepted the silent gesture of goodwill. "Power is often misleading and dangerous, especially to those who viciously seek it."
He shrugged his shoulders but neglected to say anything in response. They exchanged a silent toast and drank the liquid wine in unison. Trixana finished her drink seconds before he did, taking both glasses in hand and sliding them across her desk to be dealt with later.
She crossed her arms underneath her sizeable chest and leaned further against the desk with a stern expression. Evidently, their tense exchange of small talk was now over, and all that was left between them was business.
"What brings you to my humble home?"
"Inquisitors." Trixana gave Cyrus an appraising look.
Only the brave or the stupid would dare ask about the Underhive's hated boogeymen. They were practically untouchable in her eyes because every attempt at bringing them down a peg was met with violent reprisal. The Inquisitorious and the Firelights have been killing each other for decades, but all it did was add to the body count.
She didn't have the best opinion of the local militia, but they were leagues better than dealing with Silco's goons. For the past decade, the routine has been a weekly Firelight raid followed by a section of Inquisitorious soldiers crackdown on a random borough.
It was a vexing scenario that often cost Trixana time and money, but there was little she could do but ignore the random bursts in lost revenue. People aren't inclined to throw their money away when ionized plasma and skin-flaying magic are thrown around willy-nilly.
"And what would you like to know?" Trixana's eyes roved up and down his obscured form. All the while, black tendrils stared back at her as if she were a piece of meat.
There really was a Kimaris stalking the shadows of Lucifaad.
"Everything."
And unfortunately for the Inquisitorious, this predator's gaze was firmly fixed upon them.
Trixana did not envy the crime lord's position.
"Is that why you came to Lucifaad." She scoffed in amused disbelief. "To kill poor old Inquisitors?"
"Of course not." Cyrus retorted, the black tendrils bristling at the mere thought of sinking their teeth into flesh once more. "Their demise is a means to an end. The Firelights want them dead, and I need their support if I'm going to make the House of Lucifer bleed."
"What you want is harder to get than you realize." Trixana began. "The Inquisitorious has a tight grip on the Underhive, ranging from fortresses to outposts stationed on every street corner. Even if I were to give every detail, it wouldn't mean much unless you have a full Legion at your disposal."
"I'm only interested in the Spire."
"The Spire?" She repeated in genuine disbelief before letting out a skeptical breath. "You must be insane."
"More than you know," Cyrus remarked. "And I'm also running out of time, so do you have the information I need, or should I look somewhere else."
"Hmm..." The nightclub owner reached for a stack of folders and tossed a wrapped dossier into his chest. An archaic means of documentation in a time of magic, but sometimes even the oldest methods still work.
Cyrus unveiled the contents to find several photographs linked to detailed markings of guard posts, patrol routes, and command rooms belonging to several Inquisitorious Seekers made up the Spire's detailed internal floor plan. There were still images of manned security gates lining its perimeter and a list of known Inquisitorious Sections permanently listed as the local garrison.
"How long have you had this?" There was no way this information was corroborated over the course of a few days.
No, this intel was packaged for someone else.
"Have you ever hated something so much that you devoted everything to see it put to the torch?"
"Yes." It was the first emotion he ever experienced as a child, and it has stuck with him through the years. He thumbed through page after page, soaking in the veritable goldmine of intel before closing the folder and returning his attention to Trixana. "Name the price?"
"The price?" The corner of her lips tugged upwards into a mirthless smile. "Just one…"
The smile turned predatory.
"…Kill'em all."
He could do that.