"So that's the Thanatonauts, the Gensym Scribes, the Binary Star Cult, the old City Factions..." Sibyl rambled. "Who am I forgetting? Oh! The Praxic Order."
"And who are they?" Merlin asked with a tone of feigned interest. Having to ask the same question a dozen times now drove him to barely listen to Sibyl at all.
"They are an organization of warlocks that was founded around the same time as The Last City," the chipper Ghost answered. "Their main purpose is to keep any Darkness related artifacts out of Guardian hands to prevent corruption. One of their core tenets is that people should not be concerned about the nature of the Darkness, and should instead focus on fighting it."
"Surely if Guardians understood the Darkness, that would make fighting it more manageable?" Merlin suggested.
"More and more are beginning to believe that," Sibyl agreed. "Those wielding the Darkness can very easily lose their way though. Which is where the Praxic Order comes in! They're tasked with finding those corrupted Guardians and offering them a chance at redemption. Some take it, others don't."
"What exactly does 'lose their way' mean?"
Before Sibyl began her answer, she floated around the ship's cockpit to face Merlin. Segments of her shell shuffled briefly, as if to settle in to a comfortable chair about to tell a story.
"Before the Guardians were Guardians, they were known as the Risen. Ghosts weren't so adept at picking their Guardian in the early days," she admitted mournfully. Merlin's faceplate shifted to raise an eyebrow as he tilted his head back slightly. "You might hear about the Iron Lords later, like Lord Saladin or Lady Efrideet, but there were other 'Lords' before them. Some of those who received the Traveller's Gift called themselves Warlords. They extorted the people who managed to establish villages, and when their payments came up short, razed them. In the end, few joined the Iron Lords, but those who didn't died with their Ghosts meeting the same fate."
"Seems a bit heavy handed, no?"
"Merlin," Sibyl sighed. "Guardians have killed alien gods and god-like beings. Rogue Lightbearers with a tendency for indiscriminate violence or drive to rule others through tyranny and bloodshed shouldn't be afforded the chance to escape custody."
"And redemption is likely when a spiteful immortal is imprisoned?" Merlin said snidely.
"No need for the attitude!" the Ghost countered defensively. "Remember; you only just woke up, you don't know how things have been for the last few centuries."
"D'you know what? Maybe your right," Merlin said. "But I don't think being locked up or executed should be the only options for Guardians who've 'lost their way'."
"You think you could do things better?" Sibyl joked.
"Sure," the Warlock answered with a deadpan look. Sibyl's shell recoiled around her core, emulating a widening eye.
"How do I join?"
"I-I've no idea. I don't even know if they'd take on a Newlight to be honest." Sibyl rotated to face the ship's front window. The base of the Traveller emerged from over the horizon. "We're almost home; excited yet?"
"I think so," Merlin answered. "A little nervous too, to be honest; not sure what to expect."
"Well, first we'll quickly visit Ikora and Zavala to get you into the Vanguard system. Then sort your weapons out with the gunsmith, Banshee-44."
"Another Exo?"
"Yup!" Sibyl said. "Had to be reset 43 times before his mind accepted the body. He used to be THE Clovis Bray!"
"That name means nothing to me," Merlin said bluntly. Sibyl floated about as a humanoid would roll their head.
"Of course not," she said. "Clovis, and the Clovis Bray corporation, are the ones who are responsible for bringing Exos to life. Along with other technological marvels."
"Sounds like a great guy!"
"Not really," Sibyl quickly corrected. "By all accounts, he was far from a kind selfless man."
"Ah."
"But, his work did bring about some magnificent things, so he couldn't be all that bad in my opinion."
"So, we find the Praxic Order after Banshee?" Merlin guessed.
"We ought to get you a sparrow from someone in the hanger and get this jumpship looked at," Sibyl suggested. "No point in asking to join any faction without the means to defend yourself and have your own fully functional transport."
"And a sparrow is...?"
"A fast, single seat land vehicle," the Ghost answered. "It won't be anything fancy, but it's a necessary part of your gear."
"Theeen we-"
"Then we go to the Praxic Order, yes," Sibyl interrupted. "You're so impatient; like an Osiris in the making."
"I just want to be informed. Was that an insult? It feels like one," Merlin said mildly confused, watching the walls of The Last City grow out from the ground.
"Sounds like something Osiris would say," she teased. "It's not an insult, don't worry. Many would consider it a compliment."
The low lying clouds dragged in the wake of the jumpship's path while descending toward the walls of The Last City. The Vector-class ship snaked through the air, decelerating as they approached the hanger bay attached to the main hub known as the Tower.
"Welcome home, Merlin," Sibyl cheerfully said. They crawled into the bustling hanger and set down within a square of white paint. Automated frames jogged over with all they needed to refuel the jumpship. A tired man followed his mechanical pit crew out to meet the Guardian. He was dressed in overalls so dirty that it would be understandable to assume he had been dipped in a vat of oil.
"Guardian!" he called out with his greasy palm held high. "Where'd you find this hunk of scrap? What's your usual ship?"
"I'll transmat us out," Sibyl announced as she dissipated.
"Could you start giving me a quick countdown or something before doing that until I get used to it?" Merlin asked as his surroundings changed entirely in a silver flash.
"'Aven't seen you her before - you a Newlight?" the man asked. The Exo grounded himself then looked to the human and nodded after a moment. "First time to the Tower? You ought t'visit the commander and Ikora, by the looks of you, if it is."
Sibyl materialised over Merlin's shoulder.
"Andrew, right?" she asked and was met with a brief wave. "That's the plan! Is Amanda on break?"
"She is," Andrew answered. "Ship's pretty beat. We'll fix her up for ye. Were you able to find 'im a sparrow too out there?" Sibyl's shell rotated around her core, giving off her best 'deflated' expression. Andrew raised his hand, signalling to ease the concern. "Not t'worry – we have a couple Wayfarer Zero's in storage. Not the flashiest or fastest, but it'll get you around."
"I appreciate that," Merlin said offering his hand. Andrew took it firmly and shook. "We should get going, eh Sibyl?" The ghost perked up and began to float toward the steps leading to the Tower courtyard. The views of the valley seen from the platform between the courtyard and hangar bay captivated Merlin. Sibyl quickly decelerated and spun to see her Guardian leaning against the rail in awe of the scene.
"You'll get used to it," she said flying closer to him. "We're going to see so many amazing places, you and I. But I suppose we have the time to admire this for a bit; though it is a little nicer further up."
Once Merlin had taken it all in several times over, he pushed away from the barrier and gestured to Sibyl that they continue. Up another series of steps and the pair came to the Tower's premier vantage point. Merlin turned about to take in the new surroundings. Sibyl was right – the view of the valley was more impressive without the high walls and ceiling to frame it.
She guided his first few paces into the space, indicating the frequent faces such as Rahool and Tess, and highlighted where Banshee-44 spends his time. Opposite the valley view lay The Last City. Sibyl did her best to push Merlin along toward the man standing by the beautifully twisted tree. Alien species, one colossal and other spider-like, were dotted about the space.
"That's him!" she said with hushed reverence, cajoling Merlin to approach a large, bald, blue Titan. Commander Zavala stood stoic, as he practically always has, overlooking the settlement below. As they grew closer, the Ghost could not help herself and blurted out, "hello Commander!" The Awoken man turned slowly to greet them; a large armoured plate on his left shoulder framing the pearlescent face.
"Ah, Sibyl," his baritone voice boomed. "I see you've found your Guardian. Splendid."
"Yes, sir! Out in some town that was built in the old Ireland jungles. We ran into what I'm guessing is a small Hive nest near where I picked him up."
"Hive?" Merlin watched as Sibyl furiously nodded to confirm. Zavala shifted his focus to the Newlight. "I'll send a few, more seasoned, Guardians out to deal with it. I'm sure you under stand. Do you have a name?"
"Merlin, sir." The Commander gave out a light, single syllable chuckle. If he hadn't smiled at the same time, most would consider it a scoff. The newly risen Warlock's faceplates shifted, expressing confusion as clearly as his human face would have in the past. "Excuse me, but what is so funny about my name, sir?"
"Ancient records of humanities heroes tell of a spellcaster who went by that name," Zavala explained. "From what I've read, his exploits were akin to some of the abilities the Traveler bestows upon us; this was centuries before it arrived though, so I believe it is more of a fairytale than anything else. I'm just amused by the coincidence."
"Now that I think about it, the name did sound a tad familiar," Sibyl added.
"And you didn't think to tell me before I embarrass myself?" Merlin said.
Zavala signalled for a demilitarized Redjack, now acting as an administrative frame. "I see you two have plenty to do with acquainting yourselves. TA-16, register one Guardian Merlin, Exo, Warlock, to one Ghost Sibyl." The robotic assistant hurried off to complete the order. "You should see Ikora, in case she has any assignments you could take. Welcome to The Last City, Guardian. You are dismissed."
Sibyl led Merlin back through the courtyard, passed Lord Shaxx and Banshee-44. Tapestries hung from walls and railings around the roofless room, from which the Tower's residential quarters branched off. A staircase descended along two walls and ended facing the hall that connected to the Bazaar where Ikora typically was.
Luis the falcon caught Merlin's eye, as he swooped in to perch next to Suraya Hawthorne. Adjacent to the ledge she relaxed from was an ornate, open top gazebo where the Warlock Vanguard member stood.
"Ikora?" Merlin asked. The (also bald) human woman turned to her focus to the newcomers.
"Hello, Guardian."
"Merlin, ma'am." Ikora smiled and bowed her head a little.
"Merlin," she repeated. "What can I do for you?"
The Exo held his open hand up to cradle his Ghost in the air, though she did not need such care.
"Sibyl here just woke me up, and helped get me back here. Zavala got my basic details already registered in whatever database you have, and suggested I come to you to see if you had anything for my first job."
"Quite the day you're having. Tell me, does any particular planet in the system appeal to you? Have you done any research as to what areas you could aide in?"
"We haven't," Sibyl answered. "But when we were flying in, I told him all about all the different factions and Vanguard branches. Seems like he's keen on joining the Praxic Order."
"The Praxic Order?" Ikora questioned with intrigue. "Not usually a Newlight's place, let alone an interest."
"Sibyl told me about how Guardians who've 'lost their way' are dealt, and I reckon there has to be better ways. Rehabilitation of some kind."
"The Order, and my Hidden, have acted as they do now for over a century; I don't see their approach changing any time soon."
"I'd still like to join. I could still bring something new to the table."
"Very well!" Ikora said, a little sceptical, but ever ready to offer someone the chance they need. "Sibyl, do you know where the Praxic Order office space is?" The Ghost nodded by bobbing in place. "Then before I will leave you to your quest to join the Order, please take these. It will help distinguish you as a Warlock to others."
A black and golden helmet, robes, and pairs of boots and gloves fizzled into reality atop Ikora's outstretched hands. Through the Light, Sibyl dressed her Guardian in the new clothes while simultaneously storing his current outfit within her incorporeal storage. Merlin bowed and thanked the woman, who wished them well before returning to her meditative studies.
As they began to make their way back to speak with Banshee-44, Merlin stopped and stepped to the side of the hall.
"Sibyl, I appreciate your enthusiasm to help, but if this," he said, gesturing to them both, "is going to work, then allow me to speak for myself."
"That's fair," the Ghost responded. "I'll try to allow you to do most of the talking where possible."
"That's not to say I don't want you to speak at all – I will look to you plenty for information and guidance," Merlin clarified stepping onto the first stair after reaching the end of the hall. "Much like now, because I haven't the faintest idea on what we will need from the gunsmith."
At the edge of the courtyard, Merlin pulled up to Banshee-44's counter with Sibyl hovering close by.
"Oh, you're back?" Banshee-44 noted.
"I passed earlier, but we haven't spoken yet," Merlin stated.
"Weren't you just here? Never mind; what do you need?"
"I found this for now," the Newlight said as he reached around to his back and grabbed the rail guard of his Khvostov and put it on the counter. "My Ghost said I should see you anyway."
"That's a pretty beat up 7G-02," the gunsmith said, inspecting the rifle. "Does it even shoot?"
"Surprisingly, it does. I doubt it's seen a drop of oil for years so I don't think it's got many more left before it falls apart." Banshee-44 took the rifle, removed the magazine and unloaded the round from the chamber. He leaned around a cabinet behind him and tossed the parts onto a pile of other guns damaged beyond repair. He opened the cabinet and pulled a clean, well kept Khvostov 7G-02 and placed it on the counter. Merlin strained a smile and asked, "do you have anything with better range?"
Banshee huffed and returned the automatic rifle to the cabinet and withdrew a compact scout rifle. "Here, a 'Trax Lysis II' – semi-automatic with solid optics. We've got tons of them, just take it."
"Thanks, Banshee!" Sibyl said. "He could do with a secondary and heavy still though; any recommendations for a Newlight?"
"Newlight? Weren't you jus-" Banshee cut himself off. "Well, you seem like the fusion rifle kind, so pick up a 'Nox Calyx II' from the armoury next to the stairs down to the hangar. Grab a 'Nasreddin' too, I think you'll like that one."
Merlin slung the scout rifle over his shoulder, hanging it over his back, and nodded to Banshee-44 in thanks, and the pair left for their ship.
About half way from the gunsmith to the hangar, Merlin whispered to her, "what's with the memory issues?"
"He's been reset 43 times, Merlin," she answered. "The mind doesn't hold up so well after a couple dozen. Thankfully most Exos only get single digit resets. It's a miracle a little short-term memory loss problem is all that happened."
"Glad I'm unlucky then," the Warlock said. He knocked on the glass window of the armoury dispensary and a frame within the room snapped to attention, looking at the Guardian. "A Nox Calyx II and a Nasreddin, please." The frame turned and walked into the storage area through the door behind it.
"You don't have to say please to a frame," Sibyl laughed. "They're just metal, plastic and wires."
"Besides the Light, that's not much different than you or I," Merlin argued. "Plus, it's a good habit to have basic manners. Although, I don't remember where I know that from."
"Probably your past life," she suggested, floating from one side to the other. "I'd guess it was so ingrained in you that it became part of who you are. It's refreshing to know a Warlock that isn't so bluntly rude."
"Ikora seemed nice."
"Ikora is the exception. It's why she's the Warlock Vanguard." The frame emerged from the doorway with the fusion rifle in one hand, and a sword in the other. They vanished from the frame's grasp in a plume of silvery vapour. Sibyl turned to Merlin and said, "I'll hold onto those until they're needed."
"A sword? I'm to fight for the Traveller with a sword?"
"Swords the Guardians wield can project a shield to defend against incoming damage, and Nasreddin's strikes in are imbued with Arc Light."
Back in the hanger, the duo arrived to see Andrew coordinating the final adjustments necessary to his ship.
"Just in time!" the man exclaimed. "These new Eliksni drones are a huge help in getting fixes in place."
"Eliksni?" Merlin repeated.
"Right – Newlight. The Eliksni are that four armed species. You might've seen some outside the Tower, but they're not nearly as friendly as our new neighbours."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks. How's the ship?"
"Fit for interplanetary travel!" Andrew said proudly. "Needed a new FTL drive, heat shields, some panelling, and a paint job but now it's as good as any other Odyssey Zero fresh off the production line."
"Did you have a surplus of white paint?" Merlin joked.
"That's just so you can paint it however ya like."
"Very thoughtful of you, Andrew. Thank you," Sibyl said.
"I'm sorry but I've no way to pay you," Merlin noticed.
"Your first loadout of gear is on the Vanguard," his Ghost said. "If you want nicer stuff later, we'll have to find it or pay with glimmer. I'll point some out when we see some."
Andrew clapped his hands and rubbed the dried grime from them. "Alright, if there's nothing else you need of me, I'll be off. Your sparrow, also white, is loaded aboard as cargo. Ghost, you should be able to see it when you transmat in."
Sibyl transmat Merlin to the pilot's seat of his refurbished jumpship and started the engines for him. "Oh yeah," Sibyl said. Merlin could hear a smile in her voice. "This feels much better than before! I'll take us across the city to the Praxic Order headquarters."