The Back of Beyond

[Arvælyn]

“Sentinels? Gratitude to the Founders!” The approaching figure answered in an exclamatory shout. His dialect was thick with signs of a lower class upbringing in the capital. It was not rare for students of lower class to attend the Academia, but few were those who made it into the top studios. Even those with potent natural talent usually came to their training too late to be formidable in the eyes of the institution.

“I am Tiseus!” He called out as he drew close enough for the lamplight on his visage to reveal the pretty features of a slightly built Vastian. “Pray, were you sent to find us, or…” He audibly gasped as he registered the sight of Raithen, dropping abruptly to one knee and lowering his eyes.

“Your… Resplendence! We did not anticipate such illustrious saviours.”

Arvælyn, still unnoticed by the youth, pursed his lips into a tight grimace.

“Your disappearance has been the talk of the realm.” He asserted, though Tiseus was too dutiful an adherent of the Pyramid to glance up and mark the princeps’ telltale features. Sighing, Arvælyn let it lie and returned to the matter at hand.

“You said ‘We.’ Might I infer that there are other survivors?”

“Oh yes, Your…” Now Tiseus notes the sharp shadow of the other winged figure and hazarded a glance which promptly went saucer wide, as a blush pervaded even his swarthy complexion.

“Exalted Highness?! A thousand pardons. Yes, Highness, we’ve located an oasis in this magical desert and made camp… er, camps there. The slipspace is all disjointed… were you able to access our beacons between stretches of null space? Aneurin was clever to contrive those… sorry if I’m babbling, it has been so long… so strange. Will you come? We’ve kept a sentry on watch at the gate at all times, but none have been allowed to pass back through.” He glanced anxiously around and whispered:

“The other camp keeps sentries, too… They say the time has not yet come to return. That there are too many treasures yet to unearth, but I think...” In the darkness off in the distance a low growl could be heard and perhaps a glint of yellow eyes that soon vanished from view.

Tiseus gestured back in the direction from which he’d come.

“Well, nevermind what I think. You are the Sentinels, you are far savvier than I. The Arcane Oasis is that way…”

[Finn]

"Aldus Orillio Tiseus," he said, "of Stadium Ilara."

But the poor student was too overwhelmed by the more prestigious personages to mark him. Finn had done his homework, and marked off one of the names from the list in his mind. He wanted to soothe the young man's nerves, but if the slipspace was tangled here, so too were symphonies, and he would rather the more powerful, more adept Arvælyn make any attempts lest Finn damage his emotional matrix.

For all that he spoke of grave things, Finn considered this a win. They now had another mage with intimate experience with this place and other targets with them.

He thought he saw the flash of eyes in the darkness, but he couldn't be sure. He glanced to Decius for confirmation if confirmation from the sembler were possible. Otherwise, he stepped forward, gently asserting his authority in a manner that ought to make everything run more smoothly.

Offering the lad a hand up, he then placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. He might not be able to soothe him magically, but he was a rather empathetic bard when he wasn't a Sentinel.

"Tiseus," he said, firmly but not unkindly, "I am Sentinel Finn. I am leading the mission to recover you and your fellow students. It would behoove you to treat the more august members of my team as Sentinels whether their veils are up or no. This is not the place for kneeling, though quick obedience to orders will adhere you more felicitously to our team."

He gestured to his Sentinels to move out in the direction Tiseus had offered. He smiled at the boy. The young man; Finn was, apparently, getting older. That was strange, but he would think on it later, when they were safe in the embrace of the Umbrium.

"Be our guide back to your encampment. As we go, update us: who survives; who does not; whose location is unknown; what dangers you have encountered; threat assessment. This is what you trained for more than buried treasure. Now is your time to shine."

His smile faded into amiable confidence, and then they began to walk. His first priority was the lost discipuli. Returning them to Solunarium was his task; that accomplished, their threat assessment would help prepare the next expedition for dealing with the abjinurium and other hurdles to success.

[Raithen]

Raithen turned when he was addressed, eyeing over the student first for dangers, and then with appreciation. The youth was more than pretty, and low status enough that there was no need for calculations around the idea of enjoying his company. That would wait, and if that wait was forever, it mattered not. When the lad began to recognize the extended level of exaltation of those who came to his rescue, the Avialae turned back to watching the way they had come.

He was not unaware of the sounds and movement in the darkness surrounding them, and while he listened with half an ear to the conversation between his brothers and student, he also began to reach out with his Kinetics. Feeling out around him with a hundred 'fingers' of aether, he gathered stones and little whirls of sand in his mind. They remained where they were, for the time being, but in becoming aware of them he prepared to create either cover or weapons, depending on what they encountered. His access to his rune wavered, dropping his awareness of the area around him. Swearing under his breath, quietly enough not to alarm any of the sentinels, he sighed.

As the party began to move, he remained as rear guard despite his aether blinded state, with one of the sentinels. Raithen was not a leader, he followed, ensuring none could thwart those set above him, however he might. His spear was in his hand, and if that was the only tool he had, he would make good use of it.

[Arvælyn]

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"Just so!" Tiseus blinked in surprise, but the youth instantly beamed at being recognised. He fair launched himself up with the aid of Finn's arm, seeming excited.

"And you are..." He squinted at the prince consort, contemplating his features for a moment before a glance to his companions clarified his identity. "You are His Exalted Highness' betrothed!" He lowered his head in a bow.

"You are a Traverser, are you not? That is my speciality, as well!" Though Tiseus was bashful, he was bolder than he'd have been prior to this strange exploit. He was so unaccustomed to company outside his small circle that even in the midst of this estimable assemblage, he could not help but display his excitement and speak when he probably oughtn't.

Decius would shrug at Finn's check-in. Though his eyes were trained in that direction, his Rune was dim.

"Sentinel Finn. Yes, of course." He gestured at the garb. "Apologies. I seem to have lost my social graces for lack of socialising. My camp has forgone much of ceremony for the sake of pragmatism." His eyes caught the churning fire of Arvælyn's,

"NOT that etiquette is not pragmatic, it just that here we are... Well, we have other priorities on the forefront of our minds, like eating and... not being eaten." He paused to regard Finn as he, too, dispensed with formalities and his shoulder relaxed a bit at the allowance of such liberties.

"Of course, Sentinels. Obedience." He touched his fist to his chest resolutely. He would turn to lead them in the direction he'd indicated.

"Most of us survive, or... Well, some of us have died, but are alive again. Does that count as surviving if you die in the middle?" He shrugged. The lamplight would reveal the bases of colossal pillars that rose higher than the illumination it cast. The stone looked smooth as polished marble, though cracked in places where moss and mushroom grew from the gaps.

"It is easier, I think, to tell you who is lost. To begin with Studium Rehyeus: You will have seen Kenofer in the labyrinth, I think. He well and truly did not survive. He might have, but his captain had other priorities and so, in Her name, he was sacrificed. From Studium Vrynn, two of three brothers is lost. I do not know what became of them. I have not seem their bodies, but I have not seem them this side of the labyrinth and only the youngest, Thæros, remains in our company. From my own Studium Ilara, Atalanta is gone, but I do not believe she is dead. She was back at the Camp Spearpoint when we crossed the labyrinth and there would have been no way for her to return to us. I pray that she is back safe in Solunarium Proper.

"Of those who survive there are two camps. Mine is called Castra Confinium. That is where I am taking you. The other is called Castra Messor. There is an... ideological divide. Unfortunately, Castra Messor is committed to imposing their way onto the rest of us, which is why we've not been able to return and they have greater numbers, and some of them have more facility with their Runes. It would be simple if the divide was based on studium, no? Sadly, such is not the case.

"Castra Confinium consists of Octavian, Aneurin, Galatæa, Kasha, Thæros and myself.

"Castra Messor is led by Albion Princeps, seconded by Primus Princeps and has Perseus, Larella, Dænara, Apollodorus, Candida and Ixiondus Lysander in its number.

"As for threats, things were calm here at first. We were able to explore and survey to our heart's content, but something shifted... maybe something woke. There are dangers, now, like those you saw on the other side of the labyrinth, but something far more insidious." His voice hushed to a whisper,

"Castra Messor. To assess the threats to us and our goals of getting back, they are the biggest obstacle." The trail Tiseus took was direct. The space was broad enough to require no twists or turns and, by and by, the pitch black gave way to faint light that grew brighter as they drew closer to an object in the distance. As they drew closer, it seemed that the figure was a colossal statue seemingly carved into a wall of stone, its features vaguely illuminated by magma that churned in pools too symmetrical to be naturally occurring, which lay in the foreground. "

[Finn]

"His husband now," he corrected gently, "of two seasons. And yes, to the point that they have begun calling me Viator as if it were more than a descriptor." His smile, too, was soft. Magnatus he might be; his origins were closer to Tiseus', though, except slavery was illegal from where he hailed.

He would become accustomed to traveling with luminaries in plain black or he would not; either way, he would be obedient and they would get him out of here.

"We have specialists who will see to all of us upon our return to ensure that no lingering magics can negatively impact our people." The lists in his mind were updated based upon Tiseus' more recent intelligence, though he would not give up anyone for dead if there were a chance they could survive. Even the remains of Gyasi Sadiki Kenofer would be returned for proper rites if he could manage it.

One confirmed death, though perhaps that might be reversed in this place yet. Three confirmed missing. He could not celebrate losses, but they certainly could have been worse.

"Arvælyn, Raithen. Atalanta has wings. I will rely upon you to explore higher ground than I am able when possible." What he found most troubling was an ideological divide keeping them here present. Had Mesmer or some other magic been twisted their minds into staying and into violence against each other, well, then it might not be safe for him and his. He did rather wish his husband were safe at home, but only the Crownwyrm himself could truly tell him no with impunity.

This all rather reminded him of a slim novel he had read about boys whose ship had crashed upon an island and the vicious civilization that they created for themselves.

"Now do please share with us those dangers you have identified."

As for the statue that hove into view, he looked askance. He supposed it could have been Ugrimal or Whoever's ancient temple had been reworked into Varvara's, but he wasn't going to examine it closely. His was not to explore, but to rescue. In any case, Decius would be the one to identify it and its dangers if his Semblance began to work again.

If everything turned out to be as Tiseus said, Finn could deputize the Castra Confinium and then they would outnumber Messor should things come to a head and those younglings not accede to those who had been sent by the Luxian Regent and the Crownwyrm to bring them home. Gods, he hoped it would not come to that.

[Raithen]

Raithen picked up the names, frowning at the odd divide of students. That they were no longer aligned by studium meant that whatever caused them to linger was not due to winning their schools honor. Little things caught in his head; the notion of resurrection, the vaguely implied dangers, the even more vague explanation of why they remained. If one group was so much stronger, why did they not simply overcome the lesser and do as they willed?

The Avialea was used to being without all the information in political situations, but not in combat oriented ones, and his jaw clenched behind his calm expression. Aether was there but not interested in him, not set to obey the commands of his runes, or perhaps simply too weak to do so. Nothing about this situation sat well with him, and his hands remained too tight on his weapon. A looser grip was better for fighting, but his instincts were alive with the idea that something was waiting to snatch the spear from him, or simply snatch him.

As the massive statue came into view, the small hairs on the back of his head rose. The insectoid appearance, the unnatural gathering of molten stone at its base, did the opposite of settling his nerves.

"I don't like this." He murmured to no one in particular, thinking only the one sentinel that joined him as rearguard might hear. It was Finn's job to question Tiseus and gather what information could be gotten, but it was difficult to push back the knowledge that Finn had significantly less training or natural instinct for combat situations than he did. If this place was Mesmered, or controlled by some ancient god hiding itself from the wrath of The Divine Twins, the student could be leading them into any sort of trap. Even if he was being entirely open and was without outside controls, following him so willingly into the admittedly weaker camp could easily be a ploy to use them in whatever disagreement was holding all the students there.

Raithen would not question a leader placed above him publicly, but he was too on edge to do nothing. Trotting up to Arvælyn's side, he leaned in close and spoke in a voice that would not carry beyond them.

"Is this wise? Finn's kindness is not to be questioned, but he is not used to the sorts of dangers present here, even the ones we know of. There is... something, here." His expression grew frustrated with himself as he failed to explain what he thought everyone must feel.

His Exalted Highness was also, as far as Raithen knew, not used to this sort of thing and while he was so formidable as to be terrifying when he had access to his runes...

"This boy could be leading us into a trap, intentionally or by compulsion, or without realizing it. The stronger Castra may see us joining the lesser as a threat. There are too many things that could go wrong with so little information."

His expression was worried, tense, and pleading. It was not Raithen's place to question Finn, but Arvælyn held positions of both higher rank and kinship, even if he was, technically, under Finn's command at present.

[Arvælyn]

“Oh! My congratulations to you both!” Tiseus exclaimed, anxiously.

Arvælyn would nod at Finn’s instruction, but remained silent a few paces back as Raithen drew closer to speak in hushed tones.

“Well, the primary danger, as I said, is Castra Messor.” Tiseus replied, “The other hazards of note will be similar to those you’ve surely navigated through to get here. Prince Albion established his camp inside a structure. From outside it looks like some old temple, but we haven’t been admitted inside. They have been rigid on that point, but we sometimes hear sounds from their camp… Aneurin thinks they are excavating something, but they are very hush hush about their camp, so I cannot confirm.”

Arvælyn grimaced, whispering back to his winged half-brother,

“This is unfamiliar ground for us all, to be sure…” He posited, perhaps a tad defensive of Finn’s leadership,

“One thing Finn’s bleeding heart grants him is a level of empathy and insight into the behaviour of others that might be advantageous in a place where Symphonies are muted.” Arvælyn had his own talents for such insight which derived from surviving on the streets and his erstwhile history as a conman and courtesan, but he didn’t read people from a place of empathy. He observed and interpreted based on experience and by comparing and contrasting subjects.

“Your caution is sound, Raithen. Let us remain alert and do our best to avoid provoking any of the survivors. What we need right now is more information, and from sources other than this boy.” He slowed his gait to regard the insectoid statue curiously, unwitting to the silver sheen that rounded his throat, displaying the collar-like Emblem of Supremacy that usually remained unseen upon his tan flesh.

“Our own camp is in an abandoned structure, as well.” Tiseus continued, “Aneurin thinks it was a granary or food storehouse of some kind, but the only comestibles it housed when we got there were large spiders. Not bad to eat, as long as you avoid the venom sacs…

“Up ahead, where the tunnel opens up you will see The Grand Concourse. That is what Prince Octavian jovially calls it… to the left is our camp, and to the right you’ll see Castra Messor’s clandestine keep…”

The tunnel opened up into a massive cavern with high ceilings and a great deal of empty in the middle. Beyond that open area, which might have been as large as the Subforum, a small city’s worth of ruined buildings. To the right of the rubble-strewn, forum-sized area, a large facade was built into the far wall with architecture that complemented that surrounding the statue they’d passed. To the left, smaller, rounded huts were situated before the towering wall that enclosed this chamber, which might have been as large as the Umbrium itself. It was hard to tell where things ended, for the only light was cast by standing torches that must have been set up by the survivors and the dim, blue-green glow of fungal growths.

[Finn]

Finn took the congratulations in stride as they strode down the path. He was cognizant too of some of Raithen's worries. He would have liked to be able to verify what his gut told him about Tiseus with the young man's symphony, or had Decimus assure him that the lad's aura was clean of controlling influences, but he could not. It had also occurred to him that even his own team might be under fell influences down here where they could not sense their encroaching, but he could only put a pin in that and remain vigilant, use the mind and the intuition he had; down the path of suspicion lay madness.

"Zonam Mysterium, quidem est," he murmured when the grand subterranean vista was finally open to him.

Mental note: Bring spider venom sacs back to Hilana as well as the specialists among the Vigilia Argenti.

While he daren't engage with the slipspace here, his eyes were practiced at taking in detail for cartographic purposes, and he did pause long enough to scribble some figures and a rough map of the place, taking whatever input Tiseus had in and adding it to the whole. No doubt the Assessors would resonate their minds with his and take even his own visual memories to allow for better mapmakers to make their maps, his work would be foundational.

After rebinding the leather journal he was using for mission notes, he signaled and they continued their descent toward the erstwhile granary. He had considered sending his fly boys down to the Castra Messor’s clandestine keep in the interests of time, but he didn't want to put the princeps and dux into particular danger where they would be outnumbered. They were in peril aplenty, but while time was of the essence in theory, it made better sense to take this castra by castra without diluting their strength.

"Did anyone recognize the statue?" he put to the larger group. Bennu, at least, was one of the Custodes Deorum with a true penchant for ancient history with enough plasticity of faith that her interest in other faiths was not a danger to her own. He had brought her for that purpose among others. "Or anything of the styles we have here witnessed?"

As a member of that branch of the Sentinels that dealt with the divine, he had a better, clearer picture of the path that led Ugrimal to Varvara, but this didn't remind him of Her temple. Of course, much of what had made it someone else had been erased or subverted into Her iconography by the time he worshiped there.

Regardless, he laid out his plan—at least until Necessity required he change it.

"We will meet with Tiseus' camp, gather intelligence, and then we will meet with the Castra Messor separately and without a member of Tiseus' camp lest they think us under their influence. Having assessed the situation, we will retire to a camp of our own, separate camp if necessary to mediate and prepare them for extraction.

"To that end, Arvælyn, Raithen, please take to the air and scout out a defensible place for our camp, preferably between the castræ and equidistant from each. Large enough to offer the entire population of Solunarians here present in this place succor should a greater threat appear."

He knew it was possible someone would see them flying, suss they were going to visit Tiseus' camp first, but it could not be helped. They might act secretly among the people at times, but this was not one of them.

[Raithen]

The dux did not growl, his upbringing nor his breeding allowed for such an expression, but his face remained dark. This darkness was not directed at his kin, for he fully agreed with the princeps' assessment. A brief nod was given to convey this. If he felt blinded by the lack of access to his runes, those around him must feel as though all their senses had been dulled. Raithen kept close to Arvælyn, knowing that, should anything come for them that could overwhelm them in their weakened states, his brother was his first priority. His life was better spent spilled on these aether-void sands than in returning to his mother alone.

He knew what the silvery sheen at the golden throat meant, and it comforted him. Even in these depths, surely the Divine could not be blocked. If it came to it, the students could be subdued by Holy Aværys' will.

Settling his anxiety, he nodded when Finn gave instructions. Flying was more difficult in the low-aether environment, as it was in a low oxygen one, but he could manage. Spreading his feathers, Raithen gave one mighty thrust with legs and wings both to get himself aloft. He would remain watchful, but not nearly so close to his brother as he had on the ground. Following all his orders at once was not always easy, but he would try.

It felt like swimming in a sea of darkness, with neither the stars overhead nor the lights of the Umbrium below. Looking down at the meager, moving lights was like watching something through a magic mirror, it didn't feel real. Even the air felt off, too still, breathless as the dead. Rising till he could make wide circles of the area between and a little surrounding the two buildings which made up the students camps, he saw more lights within but little else of life.

When they passed each other, he used common mercenary signs to communicate the little he'd seen to Arvælyn. Maybe the princeps didn't know the signs, but maybe he'd had time to learn them in his travels.

[Arvælyn]

Bennu nodded.

"I have little doubt that these structures are from the same civilisation that constructed the Temple of Midnight's Mother and the other pre-Vastian structures that survived in the Umbrium. Perhaps a different era, but there are recognisable glyphs. I lack the context to interpret them without the ability to Semble, but the commonalities are stark." The Sentinel fell back into line as Finn elaborated on his plan.

Tiseus parted his lip as if to insert something, but thought better of speaking out of turn in the midst of such Magnati and piped down.

"Very well." Arvælyn spread his wings, took a breath and paused. "Fæx." He'd forgotten he couldn't use his typical trick to launch up with Kinetics and catching himself with his wings. He lowered himself to his haunches and leapt up, catching himself awkwardly with a stuttering flap of his broad wings that ultimately worked, though nearly sent him into a wall first.

Once he was in the air he steadied himself, and gained altitude. Once he was high enough, he swept forth in a direction counter to that which Raithen had taken. He remained low enough to make use of the dim light cast by the torches and the fungus to see what the topography offered in the way of shelter. If there were castræ to the left and the right, the ruins straight ahead seemed like the best option to suit Finn's criteria.

When Raithen attempted to communicate with hand signs, his expression registered overt confusion and the dux would know, at a glance, that his meaning had not been related to the prince.

He made a few sweeps over the ruined streets of what must have once been a densely populated neighbourhood, village or city quarter and then returned to Finn and company to report:

"The existing castræ are relatively solitary structures, but down the 'Grand Concourse' there are many structures in various states of disrepair- Some would be ideal, but I did note... activity. It is possible that something is already living there."

Tiseus nodded vehemently, though he didn't speak.

"If you know something, out with it." Arvælyn sighed.

"Ah. Yes, Your Exalted Highness. There are all manner of creatures dwelling the ruins. We had to clear out our camps before occupying them, so we chose more isolated buildings. Over there, there were too many places to hide for creatures who knew the lay of the land better than we."

"I see. Perhaps Raithen found a less precarious locale..."