Societal Solipsism - Chapter 8: Regional Grieving

Dragonwatch

79 Zephyr, 1330 AE

The trip through Ashford had taken much longer than expected, thanks to a breach of the ghost containment unit at the Exterminatus HQ: the road was shut down, and escaped ghosts thickened the nearby spectral hordes for days to come. The worst threats Queensdale faced were bandits and centaurs, neither of which came close to the visceral terror of centuries-dead Ascalonians intent upon disembowelling the charr invaders they still believed they were fighting.

Adding to Hisoka's culture shock was the utter lack of warning as he and Liberius crossed from the charr heartlands into the Blazeridge Steppes. The pair walked through a small arch, and suddenly the Dragonbrand was ominously close. Still a few fields away, but the purple wall in the sky had seemed so distant before. Something like that, a change so abrupt, should have been momentous. To the charr though, that sort of precaution, the establishment of a fort to ward the populace away, was frivolous. Everyone would simply learn not to cross into the more dangerous lands to the east, prove themselves there, or serve as an example to everyone else.

Hisoka drew his arms around himself to stave off a sudden chill. Being around only Liberius had dulled the fact that he was a charr, and that fact was now coming back in full force as they explored Ascalon. It wasn't helping that Liberius had been distant ever since they stepped through the asura gate to the Black Citadel. He had tried to hide it, but the lingering silences between them had lengthened the longer they spent in charr territory.

Breaking this silence, Liberius looked to Hisoka. "Ominous, huh?"

"It's so...unnatural."

"All the corruption is...but I know what you mean. There's something so... alien, about Kralkatorrik. I'd like to say that you get used to it, that people can adapt to anything, but..." Liberius trailed off. Hisoka suspected that the strange ache at the nape of his neck would never fully disappear so long as he was near the Dragonbrand.

Between them and the Dragonbrand were a couple of Iron Legion buildings overlooking the alien chasm that had been torn into the world a decade ago. "That's The Last Whiskey Bar," Liberius explained as they drew near. "Last bastion of civilization before the Brand, if it counts as civilized." He laughed a little, as if at an old joke.

"Is that where we're headed?" Hisoka asked. He knew they were in the general area they were looking for now, but the details were still somewhat foggy. Liberius was looking for information to narrow down the search.

"Nah, too social. Too chaotic. We're headed for..." He pointed into the Brand. Hisoka thought he must be missing something, so he squinted. In the perpetual night of the corrupted scar, he caught the glint of a large piece of metal. "Steeleye Span, safest way to cross the Dragonbrand. If there's anything going on here, trust someone there to know about it."

Hisoka hadn't been expecting to wade into the Brand proper. He knew it was a possibility, but it had been the sort of abstract eventuality that didn't bear thinking about and sat in the periphery of the mind collecting dust. Sensing his discomfort as they walked, Liberius slung an arm around behind him and pressed him close. "Steeleye Span's safe, I swear. Only place in the Brand I'd bring you without any sorta warning."

The assurance comforted Hisoka somewhat amidst the charr's present disposition, but it was a comfort that was increasingly hard to cling to as they approached the Dragonbrand. The worn path sloped down the hill and was taken over by black metal that seemed only to extend the cold and unnatural grip of the Dragonbrand into the untainted fields of Ascalon. Stepping onto the long path of Steeleye Span felt like signing some declaration of intent, as if any damage or death incurred beyond this point would be karmically justified.

If that felt terrible, then passing into the Brand proper was agonizing. It hit like a wall of force that passed through your stomach and took a sharp claw to your most sensitive internals. Hisoka doubled over and Liberius waited, as even the sturdiest of charr soldiers couldn't suppress the full-body shudders brought on by first contact with Kralkatorrik's corruption. Once he straightened up, the pair continued towards the ovular hub at the heart of the narrow slice of Brand. Hisoka sped up his pace to escape the fitful gusts of spontaneous wind that wracked the strip, causing Liberius to speed up further to maintain the lead.

Inside was better, though nobody could have called it comfortable. Armoured heads turned to investigate whoever had just entered the hub. As Steeleye was the only reliable way besides Ebonhawke — an option not available to the High Legions — to ferry goods between the lands of Ascalon separated by the Brand, traders came through with caravans frequently. That hadn't dulled the instincts and training of any of the charr stationed here, however. Liberius scanned the room before his eyes settled on exactly the charr he wanted to speak with.

Tribune Kyranith Steelgrip was staring out to the south, at the distant machinery standing like iron ghosts in the purple haze. Liberius drew level with her some distance to her side, and waited to be addressed.

"Do you need something?" she asked. Her voice was as gravelly as the fused sediment outside.

"I'm here on reconnaissance," Liberius lied, as he pulled out a Blood Legion medallion. "Legionnaire Liberius Faithender."

"Just you?"

"A small group attracts less attention."

"And the human?"

"Nobody suspects a single charr with a human to be operating on behalf of the Legions. You attract attention, but it's not the kind that matters. A few strange stares here and there, but nobody putting any pieces together."

Kyranith nodded. When she spoke, a touch of surprise coloured her deep voice. "Blood Legion recon, eh? And a legionnaire at that? You're not generally the stealthiest bunch."

"Imperator Ruinbringer thinks it best that we diversify our talents. Wouldn't do to become too narrowly-defined, we'd risk an over-reliance on the other Legions. No offense." Liberius was trying to establish a presence for himself, and it seemed to be working.

"And yet, you find yourself sheltered by Iron Legion engineering."

"Over-reliance, not a healthy climate of mutual cooperation. The Legions should be able to stand on their own and come together to form an even-sturdier whole. The 'tripod' approach will only dissolve the strength within each Legion."

The two locked eyes. She was his superior, but he hadn't offered any formal slight. Kyranith didn't back down, but she nodded. "Just so long as you remember where you're standing. What brings you here, soldier?"

"We have reason to suspect Inquest activity in the region. Have you noticed anything unusual? Specifically to the west?"

Kyranith considered, but ultimately shook her head. "Related to the Inquest? No."

"Anything else, even unrelated?"

The firm set to her muzzle said she wasn't taking kindly to the interrogation, so Liberius tried another tactic. "The safety of Steeleye Span is of the utmost importance to the deployment of resources within Ascalon, and support for charr on the far side of the Dragonbrand. You would know that better than anyone."

Kyranith had ordered the construction of Steeleye Span after providing the late Legionnaire stationed here with an impromptu lobotomy. She stood up straighter. "We had tremors a while back, and launched an investigation into destroyer activity. Didn't turn up any corrupted magma, or Inquest for that matter."

Liberius hummed. Tremors were definitely strange, but nothing definitive. "Any new groups crossing the Span?"

The Tribune tried to recall, but it was one of the Legionnaires who spoke up first. "There's a group of asura, now that you mention it. They go east, though, not west."

Kyranith nodded at Caym Steelheart, retroactively approving of his input.

"East, huh? Are they heading south?" Liberius asked.

"No," Caym said, "they're investigating the Searing Crystal: they head east and then up north each morning. It's the largest one still around, the crater's pretty impressive."

Hisoka felt that his Ascalonian neighbours would have disagreed with the specific word choice, but he brushed off the secondhand sentiment.

"And that's the only one that'll do?"

"Apparently so."

"Do they cross back across the Span at night?"

"Like clockwork. I know they don't head north after, since the folks up at The Last Whiskey Bar only rarely see them." Caym's speech slowed, realizing where Liberius was going with this. "You think the entire affair with the crystal is a ruse to keep us from looking into them? But then why cross the Brand at all, we're not exactly cozy here."

Liberius didn't answer, and Caym didn't push: if Kyranith wanted answers, she would get them.

As it so happened, she didn't care to press. "If Bangar is curious about our station, I invite him to open up a more direct correspondence." Her voice was artificial, though not angry, as Liberius was just the messenger.

"Noted. I think we have all we need." The charr nodded at one another, and Liberius returned in the direction he came from, Hisoka in tow. The two barely spoke until they left the Dragonbrand, each lost in their respective heads. Stepping back onto green grass though, they found their minds — and tongues — freed.

"They may very well need that crystal. They're Inquest, Inquest like crystals. But it's like that old parable about a charr merchant smuggling devourers by loading them with baskets. People checked the baskets, but it was the devourers themselves that were being stolen. People think to ask them about where they're going, not where they're coming fr—"

"You didn't tell me you were a Legionnaire."

"What? Oh, you never asked. I guess I just sort of assumed you knew." Free of the militaristic composure that he had adopted while in the Brand, Liberius stood to his full height and puffed up his chest. "You didn't think I was just some common soldier, did you?" For a moment, the weight of being back in Ascalon seemed to leave him.

Hisoka shook his head. It wasn't that he disagreed, but more that Liberius wasn't following his thought process. "It's just strange to learn something like that about you out of nowhere. Feels like something I should...know."

Liberius shrugged. "I figured you'd ask questions in your own time. You don't like me prying about—"

"I know, and I'm sorry about that. I think I'm almost ready, it's just hard."

This was met with a hum that Hisoka had trouble interpreting, so he chose to ask about their mission instead. "So what are you thinking? They're west, but we already knew that."

"Getting another source never hurts. Come on, let's look around."

Hisoka followed, not hugely inspired by the seemingly aimless path Liberius was taking.

They walked along the border between Ashford and the Blazeridge Steppes, heading south. If the Inquest weren't heading north after leaving Steeleye Span, they had to be heading south: to attempt a path straight west would be to unnecessarily scale a cliff face, when easy passage could be found to the north. A few minutes south of Steeleye Span, a small cave twisted north, deep into the cliff. Liberius turned back to Hisoka with an grin upon his face, and ventured down it. Hisoka followed him over awkwardly placed boulders and through hanging walls of vines, chasing what seemed to be illumination at the end of the tunnel. The path was tricky for the human, and would have been trickier for the charr were it not for his superior climbing prowess, but they made it through.

The sun was setting, speckling orange glints of light across the nearly-solid light of the Dragonbrand's border. To the west, in the grotto that Hisoka and Liberius found themselves in, sunlight snuck through the dense tree cover above, dappling the ground in the long, angular, streaks of light typical of this time of the day. To the north, the crumbling remnants of ancient Ascalonian buildings stood vigil over the overgrown pond at the far end of the hollow, appearing firm and resolute despite their evident age.

Something at the back of Hisoka's mind twitched. The secret garden — if the overgrown ruins could really be deemed a garden — felt familiar, despite how new Ascalon was to him. As Liberius roamed the area, eyes darting every which way, Hisoka stood in the rough middle of the grotto and tried to remember. It was one of those thoughts that seemed to disappear the more he grasped at it, so he let his mind wander as he took in the scenery.

"I will never forget..."

Thread found, Hisoka made sure not to tug it too hard lest it snap. Moments later, his subconscious dredged up more.

"...we returned to that secret place of mine, where the stones themselves whispered stories of ancient Ascalon, and the world felt uniquely embracing..."

And there it was: enough of a lead to keep following.

"To my last day, I will wish I had brought her there. I hesitate to call such a place my own, for it feels far too possessed of its own humanity to truly be owned by any man. In the years since the last day dawned on the Kingdom of Ascalon, I have dreamed of days that never were, keeping that land alive in my mind. In that imagined realm, Mary and I have spent many a day watching fallen leaves drift across the slow-moving waters, content that Ascalon should never end. How I have come to long for the peaceful dilapidation in this ruined world."

Hisoka all but gasped. The passages came naturally to him, as he had pored over the aged pages he had found them on night after night. His mother had kept the book around for the author's commentary on Canthan culture circa two and a half centuries ago, but the complete edition contained equal parts discussion of Elona and Tyria, as well as personal thoughts. It had originated as the diary of Nicholas Sandford, after all: There with Yakkington: A Traveler's Tale.

"I won't say the crystals fell, for they were thrown with such force as to scar the world. I fled to the orchard to find Mary, but it was too late. In the chaos of that worst-of-all-days, I returned to the garden to find it ruined. With no home, and no one to share one with, Yakkington and I left Ascalon behind."

But it shouldn't have existed, not anymore.

The serene feeling that had come over Hisoka since entering the grotto vanished far quicker than it had come. He opened his mouth to call Liberius over, before the charr preemptively quieted him. He was about to ask why, when the answer came to him in the form of a high asuran voice from the tunnel.

"...may be acceptable for the lower ranks, but I'm not going to risk an eternity in an abstract wasteland, all because I craved the convenience of an asura gate."