Chapter 15

EVENING IN CENTRALIS

ARIEI

“Ariei?”

I turn quickly, tucking the book behind me. Bryatt has moved up the stairs with quiet precision. He pulls the door open cautiously.

“There you are. Everyone’s counted. We’ve stuffed as many extras as we can, and Sekra’s tied down and ready to move.”

His expression shifts slightly. I have no idea what the panic on my face must look like. I must appear ghastly.

“What’s wrong?”

I try to think through the ramifications of sharing the item. No. I need to. I pull it from behind my back and hold it out to him. He takes it with a teasingly suspicious smirk before his eyes go wide. He opens it, flipping through the thin fabric. His eyes search the maze of symbols and, when he’s just as unable to identify any of it as me, passes it back.

“Strange.”

I give pause.

“Strange? That’s it?!”

He shrugs.

“Strange.”

I leaf through it again. I’d originally thought that it would be the Cistrian language, but no. They speak the common tongue, fluently, with only very minor differences in accent. Unless this is a cypher, there’s something else here. Something Braham never told us.

He knew far more about other civilizations than he’d ever told us.

Not only did he know of Cistria, but there must be others. More civilizations, perhaps far more remote than them. Others with their own language, their own ideals, their own materials if these strange pages are any indication. This isn’t it- not by a long shot.

Not only did he know, he had materials from them.

“Ariei? What’s wrong?”

I toss the item back to him.

“Do you think it’s Cistrian?”

He shakes his head.

“They speak our language. It could be- maybe their written commontongue is different?”

He’s right. I can’t jump to conclusions. I take it from him.

“I also have a few other things of Braham’s. There was a coin with similar text. I originally thought it was artistry, symbolic ornamentation around the edge of it. But they match, Bryatt. He didn’t mention this in his letter to me or Liet. I wasn’t supposed to find this.”

His eyes go wide.

“What?”

He smirks.

“Maybe there’s another letter out there. Perhaps somebody else was supposed to.”

CEREN

I open the doors to the Hall of Valiance, allowing the eye-stinging sun to leak through. With enough effort the internal gears begin to turn, opening the lengthy center hall to its luminescence. I am soon greeted by the vast sky, this afternoon’s a mismatched swirl of bright blues and purples, the Hiari flowing idly through it as the vast white clouds swallow each other. The temperature is warm, but not too much that it becomes uncomfortable in my uniform. I do tug the top button loose, causing my collar to droop slightly- not out of worry for the heat, more to remind myself less of what I have been thrust into. A minor respite.

Milhiein, our gleaming capital city, stretches before me, its multi-storied buildings stretching into the eternal blue skies above. These buildings vary in age from hundreds of years old to fairly recent, but they remain impeccably maintained all the same. Rows of dark-wooded trees stretch outwards from the Hall in an organized manner, stretching out in a vast courtyard around a massive fountain. Seven figures- one for each of the current Archions of Cistria- stand tall and proud, their nexumon posed alongside them. Each fountain for each Hall in each pillar needs to be corrected for every new Archion. It’s a traditional process- at least it’s what my father says.

The evening suns have brought the populace out. Families and friends move alongside each other in massive groups, chatting merrily amongst each other. It’s common for this courtyard to be a center of entertainment. After all, this is the haven of our achievements as a people, what better place to host such merriment? A group of children are gathered around an automatonic. He moves and playfully dances about in a hulking mechanical construction, his mechanical limb mechanisms lifting groups of ten of them in one hand as they whoop and cheer. He poses as miniature fireworks shoot out of the back of the suit. The Chamber of Relics is particularly busy this day. Though it serves primarily as a collection of historical documents and artifacts from Centralis’s history, there are often special presentations and theatrics that change in and out over time. I jump as a transport car unexpectedly flies past, the vehicle hanging from one of the hundreds of rails that curve and tangle themselves around Centralis like the spiraling vines of a carios plant.

I move towards the fountain. A few people notice me, but refrain from saying anything. My father is the only one here without a nexmon to pose alongside. He, instead, stands solitary, the stone face grim, determined, his posture standing tall whilst leaning on his blade. He’s clad in thick armor, a cape curved around the front.

“What’s wrong, Ceren? Jealous of your old man?”

I rapidly turn, half in surprise, half in annoyance, to find Feia. Her hair is done back in a messy bun, dark with streaks of amber. She’s wearing her academy uniform, a high-collared jacket overtop a white undershirt and dark pants. Her academy emblem- Visiora, one of Centralis’s most prestigious- is emblazoned on the right chest. She locks eyes with me, curious.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t forget, right?”

“Forget…?”

She sighs, giving me a playful shove.

“You wanted to meet. Go drinking, remember?”

Damned be it. Of course. Tonight of all days.

“Y- yeah. That’s right.”

She crosses her arms, now genuinely concerned.

“Ceren. Are you all right? What happened in the settlement?”

I look around, panicked.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Oh, please-”

“Sometimes you can forget who you’re friends with.”

Her brow furrows before she turns and starts walking in the opposite direction. If the populace didn’t notice us before, they certainly are now.

“Feia, wait-”

She slows down slightly, giving me a chance to catch up. As I walk I very nearly collide with a small family, the young daughter clearly excited to come close to me. Within a few strides I manage to catch up to her.

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Ceren, but I need honesty. I can tell something severely wrong has happened. You barely spoke a word to me when you arrived, and you haven’t spoken to Holia or Natio yet at all. We were worried about you. You understand that, right?”

I nod.

“Ceren, speak. Please.”

I decide to wait. Eventually we make our way to the outer rim of the courtyard, taking us to one of the hundreds of streets that mark Milhiein. We wait patiently as a stowcrawler carries several passengers by on its dozens of short mechanical legs, slotting them into minute divots that have been carefully cut into the streets, before walking along it ourselves. We pass the populace, hundreds of men and women making idle chat as they move through the busy shopping district. Eventually we find a back alley that stretches through a dwelling street, the stacks of small homes towering above us like a towering collection of crates.

Feia looks down the lane and turns back around.

“There. Private. Now will you talk?”

I’m sweating already- not from the heat. I’m terrified of speaking of it at all. The secrets of an archion are precious, sacred. I’m putting her in danger just by speaking them. But Feia’s not like the others- I know that.

“The settlement. We found- we found people there. They weren’t from the Pillars, Feia.”

She seems surprisingly nonplussed by the concept.

“How did they survive?”

“They built a miniature city underground. And I'm not talking about tiny caves, or houses, or- or even a generalized living space. They had an entire shopping district. They had underground gardens- they’d found ways to harvest fruit from vines growing on the walls, and medicine. There were specialized buildings, and a grand coliseum, and-”

Feia holds her hand up. An older man slowly paces his way through the alley, turning and smiling when he spots me. He keeps moving. We hold off on continuing until he’s gone.

“Do you think he heard us?”

She looks back once more.

“I don’t think so. At least, not enough to know the context.”

She turns back.

“Shit. So were they travelers from one of the Pillars?”

“No. That’s the thing. My father ordered Destine Commander Gierant to drill below- he intentionally obscured the truth, told him it was to set up a camp underground amidst the Highcloud. But my father knew, Feia. He knew the entire time.”

She looks down. I hate doing this to her. I hate delivering terrible news like this.

“Did he give a reason?”

I shake my head.

“No. And that’s the worst part. They spoke our language, but they had their own culture. They had no idea the Pillars even existed- they’d never been able to travel that far out.”

“They didn’t have any way to travel above the Highcloud?”

“My father was telling me everything he knew on our voyage back. They’d only ever traveled a miniscule distance from their home. But- but I could tell, even with the short time I was there. They were close. They’d developed an electricity system out of damned esperstone, Feia.”

“That’s impossible. How did they know to use esperstone without knowing our technology? That’s ten steps removed from what you were speaking about.”

I get closer to her, choosing to whisper.

“Their weapons, Feia. Some were basic. But there were a few of them- clad in dark green cloaks. Called themselves Emberstrand. Those weapons were based on Cistrian technology- I’m sure of it.”

Her eyes go wide.

“How do you know?”

“Because their rifles use the exact same mechanisms of ours.”

ARIEI

Bryatt and I descend the stairway to find the rest of the group. I’ve handed the object to Bryatt, who’s tucked it carefully into a spare pillow he’s carrying down. Emetia smirks.

“There you are. Took you two long enough. Are you ready to move? Dawn’s about to break, and we want to make it as far out as we can before night strikes.”

I look around the dining area. Everyone’s packed their bags. Sekra’s tied down to a spare gurney. He’s still unconscious, but he looks better- it’s visible despite only being a day’s time. I go to my bag, triple checking that everything’s there. I pull it over my shoulders, placing it over my rifle sling. I tighten my side holster and slide a blade into it. Aaro helps the children put theirs on, trying to adjust the straps to fit them properly. I move closer to help her fit Wyen. She turns her head and whispers.

“I don’t feel comfortable giving them weapons, Ariei.”

“I know. But we have to. It’s for their safety.”

She doesn’t respond, instead holding a strap as I slide the clip up. Wyen turns.

“It’s heavy.”

Aaro places her hand on Wyen’s shoulder and gives her a soft smile.

“You’ll get used to it, trust me. If you get too tired just let us know and one of us will carry it for a while.”

Luciaphon stumbles through the armory door and sets himself down. I grab a few extra straps and move close.

“Remind me once more why I am being deemed a beast of burden?”

“You weren’t in Centralis?”

“Of course not. I was born for battle, not to carry supplies.”

“Well, given the odds, I’m sure you’ll do plenty of both.”

“Hmm.”

I pick up a few extra bags and run them through the straps, creating an even blanket of packages. I pull them over Luciaphon’s back and fasten them tightly.

“There. Too heavy?”

“...No. I’ll accept this amount.”

I finish adjusting them.

“Luciaphon. How far is it to the nearest Pillar?”

“The nearest Pillar is Yiiran, the Pillar of Knowledge. It’d be about a two weeks on foot, should we move at least twelve hours per day.”

I grow cold.

“TWO WEEKS?”

He turns his head to me, his large eyes uncaring.

“Two weeks is nothing, girl. We’ll have to be prepared, alert, and intelligent if we want to survive. That means rationing your mask use and letting some of us give in to the Highcloud, keeping a wary mind on eidelion attacks, and eating anything we can find.”

I consider telling the group, but at this point, it would only serve to panic them. I move to the storeroom and grab a few more filters and bags of food. I start to attach them to Luciaphon’s makeshift carrying harness. He doesn’t object. I stand back up after preparing him.

Gaevan passes. I speak while I throw a fresh Emberstrand’s cloak over my shoulders. We've managed to find one for everybody.

“I’m assuming you guys have a finalized plan?”

He shrugs.

“Well, nothing’s final until it happens, is it?”

“You know what I mean.”

He grins.

“We’re climbing up the residential area. The scaffolding goes all the way up towards the ceiling. There’s a hole large enough to fit any of us. At that point, all it takes is a spare ladder and then-” he claps his hands- “freed.”

I’m genuinely surprised.

“That’s brilliant. One question, though.”

“Yes?”

“Is the scaffolding stable enough after everything?”

He looks around awkwardly before opening his mouth again.

“Should be.”

“SHOULD BE?!”

“...Should be.”

I haven’t realized it, but everybody has turned to face him, all with similarly slack jawed reactions.