Grisha stared at the small flickering screen, a deep bitter sadness welled inside of her as she reread the same words over and over again. TRANSMISSION DENIED- ALLOCATED BANDWIDTH EXCEEDED. TRY AGAIN LATER. She clicked her tongue in anger as she leaned her head back. The room she was in was dark and cramped, which she was learning was the common motif for anything inside the Keel. Personal alcoves were set aside, each with their own terminal and screen. From here one could access the whole of the Keel’s database, or if one had the patience, the old network that spanned the Empire.
The problem with the old network was an age old issue, supply and demand. There just weren’t enough surviving satellites in orbit to allow everyone to use the network frivolously, so the Court had imposed limits to its usage. For regular citizens this amounted to a few letters a month, for Court officials, the cap was proportional to their standing within the hierarchy of the Court. Grisha had used her bi-monthly cap in just a week.
It probably didn’t help that Ida had sent a picture of Izzy, which had cost a huge chunk of bandwidth, though the cost had seemed worth it at the time, Grisha was regretting it now. Without the old network they would have to send letters physically, that's if she could find someone to deliver it to Fulcrest for her.
With a groan she stood from the chair as she made her way outside for some fresh air. The walk through the Keel’s halls always made her tense after her first night, but so far nothing like that night had happened again. The lights behaved themselves, the halls didn’t twist and turn on their own, and most importantly she hadn’t wound up on another floor mysteriously again.
A few minutes later Grisha walked down the main ramp of the Keel into the upper plaza. The morning sun was bright over the horizon, casting a pink hue over the rooftops and masts of the city. It was still an odd sight to see ships and boats used as homes and businesses, but to the Twin’s it was their heritage, a point of pride. The scene was beautiful, aside from one particular eyesore.
Floating over the shallow sea was the Grace of the Gods, the white dwarf class ship that had brought Grisha to the Coast. It hung in the air at the same rough height as the Keel. When she had first arrived the sight of that gleaming ship had been a source of comfort and pride. Now she saw the symbolism as a bit heavy handed to say the least. “The Gods are watching over you all.” As if they needed another reminder of that.
Everything Grisha had seen over her week in Navalia had shown her that the Twin’s of the Coast were loyal to the All Mother without question. Everyday they woke and worked the fields to help feed the Empire, everynight they prayed and offered their gratitude to the All Mother for granting them life. Sure, sometimes they mentioned the Old Gods with a level of comfort that seemed horrific, but only the Nightfather. Which could have been worse, at least they weren’t Faceless offering sacrifices of blood and bone to the primordial Chaos.
She stopped herself from this line of thinking, she was letting her frustration in regards to not being able to message her wife cloud her thoughts. With a sigh she made her way across the plaza, walking towards one of the smaller roads. This particular one wasn’t as steep as the main street, a series of switchbacks allowed for carriages to travel up or down the hill as needed.
Half way down the hill and through a side road Grisha found what she had been looking for. The smell of fresh bread filled the alley as she turned the corner to find a small bakery nestled in a cramped dead end corner of the city. Grisha wiped a bit of moisture from her lips as she walked closer to the source of the heavenly aroma.
A woman in her mid forties was busy kneading balls of dough, her apron covered in flour as she looked up to see Grisha, a wide smile crossed her face. “Mrs. Salt, a fine morning to you! What can I get you today?” The woman spoke with a warm maternal tone that reminded Grisha of her own mother.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hugh. I was hoping to grab some of those treats I got last time, the cheesy ones.” Grisha smiled as she walked over to the set of stools that were in front of the bakery's large window, grabbing a seat as she waited.
“Coming right up, should be ready in a few minutes.”
The door in the side of the bakery flew open with a mighty thump as two small children stormed out of the door and rushed at Grisha with open arms. “Blue lady! Blue lady!” They screamed as they wrapped around Grisha without hesitation.
Mrs. Hugh threw down her rag as she huffed. “Hey! What did I tell you both about harassing our guests! I am so sorry Mrs. Salt, they are at that age.”
With a laugh Grisha picked the young Twin’s up in either arm. “It’s alright, just means I get some practice before my own daughter gets to be this big. Though I’m glad I only have the one!” She said as she spun the children slightly.
“Well, feel free to take one of mine if you like! It’s tough when they outnumber you!” Mrs Hugh laughed as she got back to work.
The girl in her lap looked up at Grisha. “Pretty blue lady! Can you turn into an ocean?” She squealed with delight.
The boy shook his head. “No no, can you make it rain?” He said with wonder.
Grisha put the children down. “No, but I can do this!” She reverted to a pool of water, splashing to the ground as she moved over and reformed on the next stool over. “Ta da!” She cried out.
The children screamed in excitement as they started to pantomime turning into water and rolling across the ground until they stood back up with a triumphant cry. Mrs. Hugh shook her head. “See, now that is a gift that has some actual use. I’m lucky if I can use mine twice a year. Not much use for rotting things when you bake fresh bread!” She laughed as she threw some mystery treats into the oven. Turning back to Grisha she asked. “So, any luck getting that picture of Izzy? I know you were raving about it.”
The mention of her daughter reminded Grisha how terrible her mood was as she sank in her seat, leaning on the sill of the window. “Yeah, it cost me two months of my network usage though. Now I can’t even send a message to my family.”
“I am sorry to hear that, my husband, Nightfather watch over his soul, was a traveler when we were younger. I remember waiting night and day for news from him, I tell you, when I would receive word from the Hall of Whispers-” She froze as her face shifted to shock. Quickly turning around and busying herself with something mundane.
Grisha sat up, a gnawing feeling biting at the back of her neck. “The Hall of Whispers? What’s that?” She asked nervously.
Mrs. Hugh shook her head. “Oh Mrs. Salt, please pretend you didn’t hear that! I was just muttering nothings to myself.” There was a slight panic to her voice as her hands shook slightly.
Narrowing her eyes Grisha continued slowly. “Mrs. Hugh, we both know I can’t do that. I don’t wanna cause you trouble, but I have a responsibility to the Empire.” She reached a hand down and rested it on her lap.
The children ran up and grabbed Grisha, causing her to flinch. The pair spoke as one. “That’s the place that lets you see suuuuper far away!” They cried out.
Mrs. Hugh turned to scold the children, shooing them away before placing a large bag of freshly baked goods on the counter for Grisha. “It isn’t what you think Mrs. Salt, the Hall isn’t some secret cult or nothing. I can’t tell you more, but you might be able to find out more for yourself.” She said as she pushed the goods towards Grisha.
Grisha wanted to probe more, but figured it was best to come back later, perhaps with Losol. “How much do I owe you for the bread?” She asked.
“Well, normally the rate is cleaning out my oven. Or fixing whatever is broken by the kids, a pile of kelp goes a long way. For you, maybe you could come watch the kids at some point so I can get some sleep for once!” She said with a warm smile.
Anywhere else and Grisha would find this to be incredibly odd, but she was starting to get used to the odd barter system that the Coast used. There was no need for a local currency, the goods and services produced by the townsfolk were just enough to scrape by. They instead traded with one another to try and survive, the whole of the city was a close knit community that provided for one another as best they could.
Nodding slowly, Grisha looked into the bag. There were cheesy buns, a loaf of bread, some meat filled confection she didn’t recognize and a scrap of paper. Closing the bag she looked up and smiled. “I would love to watch the kids at some point, for now, I must really be off.”
With a wave goodbye Grisha made her way into the alley again, pulling out the note that had been slipped in and reading it. It was a set of directions and the words. ‘The Heralds offer you an invitation’.
Whatever that meant.
The building before Grisha was shaped like a galley that was covered in barnacles and damp wood. While it was a larger house compared to many she had seen, there was nothing special to indicate that it was out of the ordinary. Perhaps she had gotten the directions wrong. Checking the slip of paper she had found in her baked goodie bag, she saw the door open slightly in front of her. A gaunt face poked out, half covered by a veil.
“Mrs. Salt? We have been expecting you, please come in.” The woman at the door spoke, her voice a whisper.
Grisha quickly did some math in her mind. She was walking alone into a dark secluded building after not telling anyone where she was going, the probability of this being a bad idea was a staggering percentage, but this could also finally be the evidence her team needed to go home.
The risk was great, but the reward was even greater. She entered the dark building with trepidation. The woman closed the door behind her as Grisha walked into the pitch black hall. A green glow appeared from behind her as the veiled woman pulled out a green lantern, handing it to Grisha. As she grabbed the lantern she couldn’t help but notice the other woman’s hand was deformed, her fingers fused together into three tentacles.
The woman seemed to notice Grisha’s gaze, smiling softly as she spoke quietly. “This is a place where those that have suffered from the fleshwarp can find peace. I mean you no harm Mrs. Salt. Please, follow.” The woman glided across the floor, her cloak trailing behind her, dragging along the floor.
Grisha took a deep breath and followed, her free hand holding the bag of baked goods, ready to drop them and grab her service pistol if the need arose. They walked down a long corridor with doors on either side, peeking in as they strode past she saw a great number of robed individuals, each were changed differently and to various degrees. Some had claws like those of a crustacean, others tendrils and beaks like a squid. Each person she passed looked at Grisha with shame and fear.
None of those she passed looked strong enough to hurt anyone, they cared for one another and offered comfort to those worst affected. This wasn’t a den of monsters, it was an asylum for the sick and ill. The veiled woman seemed to read Grisha’s mind from the look on her face. “Our souls are bound to our Twin, when our pair dies we must pay a harsh price. Many of us simply die, others go mad. The lucky ones manage to survive with minimal change, but for us, our souls are tainted by the Eternal Ocean. As our pair is cast into the depths of the afterlife, we are changed by their transition. Left to suffer until we can pass on and cross the sea to meet our other halves in the beyond.” She spoke with a heavy heart as she continued walking.
“Do you not consider… Crossing early?” Grisha asked, hesitantly.
“Some do. Others beg for a merciful death. The poor ones are those that are left in a state where they cannot consent to such a crossing, so are left alive until they pass naturally. This is the curse the All Mother passed to our people when she forbade us from the Celestial heavens.” She said matter of factly.
Grisha looked down. “Do you hate her for that?” The words felt wrong to say, but she couldn’t help but ask.
The woman stopped, turning to face Grisha, with the lantern closer she could see the woman's body for what it was. Everything beneath the waist was that of a crustacean, her multitude of legs allowing her to glide across the floor with ease. A warm reverent smile crossed the woman's glowing face. “Never, we love the All Mother. This is simply the price we must pay for our peoples' part when we caused our Mother such pain and misery all those centuries ago. We wear our warping with pride, for we can feel our Mother’s love.” A terrifyingly broad smile crossed the woman's face, her eyes hollow and empty.
Nodding slowly, Grisha felt a bead of sweat run down her back as they continued their walk. The building was moist and damp, an odd humidity emitting from every surface. Soon they came to a large ornate wooden door, a carving of some deep sea creature was depicted, the tendrils of the beast reaching up towards the sun. The woman stepped to the side as she bowed her head. “They are expecting you.” She said ominously.
Grisha felt the need to run, to turn back and bolt through this house ripped right from one of the many hells and not stop running until she was back home. But she needed answers, real answers. She reached out and opened the door, walking into the pitch black chamber. The door closed behind her and latched shut, Grisha dropped the bag of bread and the lantern, turning frantically as she tried to force open the door. Her mind was filled with a clarity, like she had been only half awake and was now realizing just how foolish she had been. It was as though she had broken from some spell and could finally see that she had wandered willingly into the maw of the beast.
The light of the lantern snuffed out, casting her into a truer darkness than she had ever seen before. Her heart was pounding as she turned to face the room with her back to the damp wooden door. Every breath was a shuddering thing that felt like it could be her last. A stirring in the darkness crossed her vision. She pulled her gun and pointed it into the abyss, her hand shaking violently as she looked for whatever monster called this home.
A dim light began to emerge from before her, the floor in the center of the room was actually sunken, there was a shallow pool of water that was starting to glow with bioluminescence. The faint pale purple light cast the room into a realm of shadows, but as Grisha’s eyes adapted, she could see the circular room was empty save for the pool. She stepped forward and peered into the depths, seeing what looked like twelve stone statues in the waters. Each sat cross legged, robes of stone covering their form, every inch of the statues bristled with barnacles and sea life that clung to the surface.
Grisha knelt down and placed a hand near the water, touching the moist stone that ringed the pool. A chorus of voices rang through her head in unison. Be not afraid child. We mean you no harm. The chorus spoke softly.
Pulling her hand back, Grisha fell on her back as she kicked away from the pool in panic. She sat for a long moment, the room was quiet aside from the beating of her frantic heart. The chorus said nothing further. Slowly, Grisha crawled forward, placing a finger delicately against the stone again as she flinched.
Good morning, Grisha. The chorus spoke warmly, the words cascading over her mind in her own voice. Though in an unfamiliar tone.
“What are you?” She asked, unsure if she simply had to think of the question.
The chorus responded slowly, gently. We are the Heralds.
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Grisha looked around the pool, she couldn’t make out anyone else in the room. “Where are you? What are you? What is a Herald?” The questions came flooding out of her like a torrent. Tripping over her own tongue as she tried to get her bearings.
A laughter crossed her mind, the feeling of warmth came to her as she felt her face smile involuntarily. So many questions. We once ferried the Gods across the stars, now we sleep, waiting for the day we are to Herald the end. You seek to see your family, would you like to? The chorus was each answering a different question, speaking over one another, Grisha struggled to follow it all, her mind spinning.
“What was that about my family?” She asked, a headache blooming to life in her skull as she struggled with the new voices.
Close your eyes, and reach into the pool child.
Grisha grimaced as she let her hand touch the pool directly, expecting something to pull her in and devour her. As her hand touched the warm water, she closed her eyes. With a gasp she saw a familiar street. She was in Cainport, just down the street from her home. Everything felt so real, the sounds of the dock workers in the distance, the smell of fish in the air, the wind on her face. Her eyes moved around although her head was stationary, the shifting of her vision caused her to almost throw up, an intense and deep motion sickness that she had never experienced before.
Choking back bile, Grisha continued to watch as the new pair of eyes moved down the street until they were across the road from her house, they looked up and scanned the street before looking into the window of her home. There was Ida, beautiful as always, holding Izzy in her arms and dancing with her to calm her. Grisha felt tears well in her eyes as she reached her free hand out, willing the new eyes to do the same, to move closer.
“Can I speak to them?” She begged.
No, you are borrowing the eyes of one of our agents. They would only see a stranger. As the chorus spoke, the new eyes turned quickly. Making their way down the street before they drew unwanted attention.
Grisha bent forward as she screamed. “No! Go back, I want to see them more! Please!” She tried to turn her head, to will the new eyes to turn back. But nothing happened.
Inching forward she fell into the pool below.
As the water hit Grisha’s face, she felt a shock as she was snapped back into her own senses. The warm water enveloped her as she flailed for a moment before feeling the bottom of the pool. While she could breathe underwater just fine, the thought of breathing in the pool's glowing waters seemed like a terrible idea. She turned her head to look around, freezing in place as she got a better look at the statues that ringed the inside of the pool.
While they were covered in a myriad of barnacles, coral, and other sea life, this close Grisha could see under their hoods. There, staring back at her were the mummified corpses of the Heralds, their eyes glowing with baleful light. Each Herald held a pristine bell in their hand.
The voices of the Heralds rose to an unbearable cacophony. Each screaming a different truth that Grisha couldn’t make out. Through it all a vision came to her, she stood on a deck of steel, the wall was reinforced glass that showed the infinite night of space, swaths and splotches of color stained the starry expanse. Grisha stood at attention, eleven others were standing with her in a line. The other’s faces were a blur of darkness and shadows. Before her stood a being of pure light, a perfect creature that radiated beauty beyond mortal comprehension. Even a Minstella seemed a poor simulacrum to this angelic being. A crude child's drawing trying desperately to capture the majesty of a masterpiece.
The God turned, her form was that of a woman, her glowing eyes carried a sorrow that caused a physical pain in Grisha’s chest. Something inside of her screamed at the sight, a primordial response so ingrained in her mind that she had to fight to not drop to her knees and puke at the sight. When the God spoke, her voice held that same sadness. “You have each done a great service. You are the last of the Alpha strain, your legacy dies with you.” She said, her voice harmony incarnate.
One of the others beside Grisha stepped forward. “We were made to ferry you mother.” The shadow said, their voice a garbled mess of noise.
The God looked out the window. “The new strain is already being spun up, the progenitor seems stable so far. You can rest knowing that your children will continue the work you started.” She let the light fade from her eyes, looking at Grisha with the eyes of a human. “I only wish you could have seen the new world with your own eyes.” The Gods eyes were growing misty as she spoke.
Grisha was surprised when she started to speak, though the words were not her own. “Perhaps our souls will return, and we can see our new home through our descendants' eyes.” She said softly.
A thought seemed to cross the Gods mind as she turned away. “Perhaps there is a way. A way to ensure that. Do you trust me?” She turned to face Grisha and the others once more.
In unison Grisha and the shadows smiled and said as one. “Always.”
Grisha came too as someone shook her awake. She coughed and gave a start as she looked around to gather her bearings. An older man was kneeling above her, holding a lantern in one hand as he pulled his hand back. “Miss, are you alright?” He asked, his face twisted in confusion and concern.
“Where am I? What happened to the pool and the… the…” Grisha stopped, her mind was reeling, she felt like she had seen something incredible but just like a dream the details faded quickly until there was nothing left but a faint feeling.
The man offered a hand to help Grisha to her feet. “Ma’am you’re in the Hall of Whispers. You seem to have come in from the wrong entrance, I was told to come fetch you and bring you to the hall proper.” He cocked his head as he looked at Grisha.
Looking around, Grisha found herself in a windowless room. Behind her was the door she had seen earlier with the wooden carving, but the rest of the room was entirely different to what she seemed to remember. Though, she couldn’t remember much to be honest. Her lantern laid on the ground, the light snuffed out from the fall. She remembered being panicked by the darkness, perhaps she had fainted from fright.
Leaning down, the man lifted up the bag of baked goods and handed them to Grisha. “Mrs. Hugh mentioned that you wanted a tour of the hall, I’m her brother Grant.” He removed the cap on his head as he gave a nod.
Grisha felt her face bloom with heat from the shame. “Saint’s take me, I can’t believe I got so worked up. I’m sorry Mr. Grant.” She stammered as she grabbed the bag. “I thought I came in through the main entrance.”
“No need to apologize Mrs. Salt, my sister isn’t the best with directions. Please, follow me.” He made his way across the room, which now that Grisha could actually see, looked like a storage room of sorts. The far door opened, Grisha had to cover her eyes from the bright light of the sun shining through the open windows. The room they entered was a large two story hall, with tables and chairs arranged like a bar. The door Grisha and Grant exited was located behind the bar itself.
The second floor had a landing that spanned the circumference of the hall, with several doors leading to what looked like private chambers; a staircase was nestled in the corner to reach the elevated area. There were scribes and young adults running from room to room with notes, maps, paper and other writing implements. The whole hall was abuzz.
Grisha took in the whole sight with a sense of wonder as she asked aloud. “What is the purpose of this place?”
Grant cleared his throat. “Well, it might be easier to show you.” He led Grisha to a room full of bookshelves from floor to ceiling, each with hundreds of leather ledgers with detailed script on the spine. He grabbed a book at random and handed it to Grisha.
Opening the book Grisha skimmed the page. She furrowed her brow after a moment and picked up another book, then another, then another. With a grim look on her face she looked at Grant. “Where did you get this information?” She demanded.
Taking the cap from his head, Grant looked down sheepishly. He opened his mouth to speak as the door flew open, an older gentleman walked into the room in a huff. The man was dressed in the military uniform of the Coast, but he had a long green cloak with a sigil on the back that Grisha couldn’t make out. The scowling man looked at Grisha, then to Grant. “Leave, I’ll take it from here Grant.”
“Admiral…” Grant stopped as he nodded in shame. He turned to leave, making sure to close the door.
With a sigh, the old man gave a curt bow. “I am Admiral Broadsen, one of the lords of the great houses of the Coast.”
Grisha gave a bow of her own. “Grisha Salt, seventh circle of the Holy Order of Infrastructure and Taxation.” She said flatly. “I will ask you the same question that I asked Grant. What in the name of the Saints is this place?”
Broadsen motioned to the table in the room, taking a seat as he folded his arms. Grisha sat down across from the man. The Admiral pulled out a pipe and lit the end. The smell of tobacco wafting through the air. “What is the most powerful thing a nation can have, Mrs. Salt?” He asked, avoiding Grisha’s own question.
“Let me guess, you are about to tell me in great detail. Can we skip to the part where you just say what you mean without stroking your ego?”
Lowering the pipe, Broadsen grumbled. “Fine. Our nation is weak.” He said, casting his eyes down as he tapped his pipe idly. “We have little to trade aside from food, and between the Empire’s growing needs and our own, that doesn’t amount to much. The agreements with the Court have sworn us to never have a standing military, we have barely enough guards and soldiers to protect our borders from bandits. But-” Pausing as he stood, grabbing one of the ledgers from a nearby bookshelf. “We are quite effective at gathering information.” He said with a sly grin.
Gesturing to the wall of books Grisha raised her voice. “Admiral, these ledgers hold trading information, details on land ownership, taxation rates, provincial expense reports!” She flipped hurriedly through a ledger named ‘Newtburrow - Volume 46’. “By the Saints, this even has classified information on our military academy!” She said incredulously.
“Mrs. Salt. How does the Court record the majority of its records?”
Grisha furrowed her brow. “Most records are transmitted to the central archive, where they are transcribed to the main network. As a redundant backup we use data crystals that act as long term storage. The Old World used them because they can keep information stored for thousands of years with a nearly zero percent loss of stored data.”
Broadsen nodded slowly. “Are you familiar with Ve-two-thirty-five Mrs. Salt?”
Sighing, Grisha closed the ledger in her hands with a crack. “Are you ever going to answer my damn questions?” She snapped. Perhaps the stress from this whole expedition was starting to wear at Grisha’s usual calm, or perhaps it was just the way this old man spoke in riddles.
“I’m laying foundation here, it will make sense in a moment. Humor this old man for a minute longer.” For his part, he sounded genuine.
“No, I can’t say I know what that is. Sounds like an element of some sort.”
A light flashed in the Admirals eye. “You’re correct. You know what’s special about that element?” He saw the look on Grisha’s face and didn’t wait for an answer. “That is the element needed to power the reactors of the Old World. The Gods made a slight oversight when they chose to settle on this world you see, namely, that there is absolutely no trace of element Ve-235 anywhere on this ball of dirt. Meaning…” He drew out his words, waiting for Grisha to take the bait.
“Saint’s protect. Meaning that there is a finite amount of fuel for our reactors.” Grisha whispered as her mind reeled at the thought.
“Now you’re starting to understand. From what information we could glean, it would seem that none that survived the journey through the stars could find a way to convert the reactors to accept an alternative fuel source. And with no new fuel to extract, that puts the Empire in a precarious position.” The Admiral spoke, his eyes gliding to the ledgers.
The foundation that the old man was talking about had finally made sense. “This isn’t a repository of ill gotten secrets and blackmail. It’s a contingency plan.” Walking to the table, Grisha sat on one of the chairs with a thud. “When the reactors go cold, it won’t matter if we have backups on data crystals, we’ll have no way of extracting the information. These ledgers hold information that one day could be lost in the blink of an eye.” Grisha’s voice carried a hint of awe as she viewed the mountain of leather books as something akin to holy scriptures.
Broadsen moved closer to Grisha, laying a hand on her shoulder gently. “Now you understand, the information in these books may seem trivial to some, but it is the very history and legacy of the Empire. Research papers, census data, tales and information on the Old World and our new home, not to mention details on land ownership. If all goes well, we may never need these tomes; who knows, perhaps the Vex will finally hand over their arcane secrets and we can all live happily ever after. But, if the worst does come to pass, if we are cast into an age of darkness and paranoia, it will be these records that hold the keys to rebuilding our Empire from the pieces.” His voice swelled with pride as he spoke.
The weight of the Admirals words were immense. The Empire was slowly losing Old World technology, it was no secret. But the systems that had remained seemed foolproof, too integral to fail. The lack of ship fuel had been a rumor, but it had never occurred to Grisha that perhaps that meant that one day all of the marvels of the Old World would cease to function. Without the satellites above to send and receive data, the Empire would be thrown into chaos. The outer provinces would be so far that the Court could never dream of holding control over them, soon they would splinter into free nations, or be swept up by the Cabal.
It was all too much, Grisha struggled to even fully comprehend the scope of this revelation. “I need to tell Nel’Dorn.” She said quietly to herself. As she said the Minstella’s name, the Admiral’s hand flinched slightly.
Pulling his hand back and walking with a rigid posture back to the other chair, the Admiral let out a sigh. “There is no need to tell the grand inquisitor of this.” He said, his voice cold and distant.
Taken aback, Grisha scoffed. “What are you talking about? The Court needs to hear of this…” The words died as she saw the bitter look in the old man’s eyes. “Saint’s take me, they already know.” She put her head in her hands as she pulled at her hair. “Of course they would know, the Gods must have been told all of this centuries ago.” As she spoke she felt a lump grow in her throat.
Steepling his hands, Broadsen simply stared forward. “For almost three hundred and twenty years we have worked on this project. We send our agents across the Empire to secure any and all relevant information, but the Celestial Court has always viewed this as a pointless endeavor. Worse yet, some of the Minstella in the Court view our agents as spies, and actively try to hinder our efforts.” He said, his tone shifting from sorrow to anger.
“Why don’t you announce your intentions?” Grisha asked, though even as the words left her mouth she came to the conclusion. Nodding as she and Broadsen spoke in unison. “Because it would cause panic in the Empire.” She sighed. “They’ve had centuries to try and work on a solution to this, you would think that they would have figured something out!”
A weak smile crossed Broadsen’s face. “Being a leader means sometimes having to focus on putting out the immediate fire first, before turning your attention to the wildfire that has yet to roar to life. In the grand scheme of things, our Empire is just now entering a time of relative peace.” He said wistfully.
Grisha leaned back and grabbed one of her baked goods. “Hopefully now the Gods can turn their full attention to the growing concern of our future.” she said as she took a bite of the cheesy treat.
“That might have been the case, until this whole inquisition thing happened.”
Grisha chewed slowly before swallowing. “Fuck.”
The day had already felt long enough, after the troubling news she learned at the hall of whispers, Grisha made her way back to her office in the Keel. She had been given a small room to use as a place to conduct her investigation into the records of the Coast. Though, after seeing the detailed book keeping of the hall of whispers she was skeptical that she would find any evidence of heresy in ledgers and books.
A knock at her door came as a surprise as Grisha rose from her desk and opened the door. She was greeted with a messenger of Nel’Dorn’s, the young cadet had been given the honor of carrying the words of the Gods to their recipients. In this case, Grisha. Aftering handing the sealed message to Grisha the boy gave a curt nod, turned, and ran down the hall to report the success of his delivery.
Cocking an eyebrow, Grisha opened the sealed envelope. It was an invitation to join the grand inquisitor and Queen Tayla for a trip to the far fields. Her eyes narrowed on the date and time of this little adventure. She snapped her head to the clock on the wall, cursing loudly as she ran to grab her jacket from the chair.
The great Nel’Dorn had given her exactly twenty minutes to get cleaned up, change into another uniform fitting this little excursion, and meet the nobles at the northern gate of the city. As she ran through the halls she cursed again, this time she focused her ire on her lack of exercise recently. Her lungs burned in chest as her body reminded her that she had been taking poor care of it lately with the late nights and early mornings.
As she rounded a corner she cried out loud. “This would be a great time to suddenly be transported to my room for no possible reason!” She yelled between her ragged breaths. Without warning the lights in the hall flickered, and Grisha found herself stumbling as gravity shifted without warning. Holding out a hand to steady herself she looked around as the hallway seemed different. Looking at her hand, she realized that she was leaning against the door to her quarters.
Grisha stuttered as she spoke. “Uh… Thank you?” She had called out in frustration, a spur of the moment joke to herself. The idea that the Keel had heard her cries and bent reality on a whim was unsettling to say the least. As Grisha learned more and more of the Coast and those that called it home, she found herself with only a growing number of unanswered questions. Worst yet, some part of her mind seemed to gloss over these world shattering events, even now she struggled to focus on what had just happened. Was it some defense mechanism? A way for her to keep her sanity in the face of these outlandish occurrences.
Even as she tried to concentrate on that line of thinking, something seemed to shift from behind the steel plated walls, a creaking of bones that predated humanity. The vents hissed in their rhythmic pattern, the steam was hot and moist like the dying breath of a wounded beast, the beating of the reactor shook through the floor panel in time with Grisha’s own heart. The muscles of the long dead god pulled taut as the door to her room opened on its own.
From the depths of her mind came a buzzing tone, the buzz grew louder and louder in her skull until it reached an ear splitting crescendo. Shaking her head for a moment she forgot all about how she made it to her room so quickly, there was no time to wonder about that though, she had to hurry to the north gate.
