Chapter 7-3 Want

Chapter 7-3 Want

"To want is to war."

-Zein O'yaje, Thousandhand, Ch. 1

7-3

Want

Draus narrowed her eyes at the Sang. From her mind, naked suspicion suffused the atmosphere with a discomforting weight. Avo coaxed his Heaven and made ready. The nature of the Regular was more will than emotion; her actions came swifter than thought, compelled to move by sharpened instinct, her celerity unchained from hesitation.

With Draus, a thing could be a conversation in one heartbeat and a massacre in the next. Envy became Avo. How blessed she was to be able to indulge in violence and humanity without obvious strain. Therein was the difference between them he supposed: she was made to be a human weapon.

He, meanwhile, was a beast of baser make.

River, Draus began, her voice low and even, you spittin wind at me? Highflame and Stormtree got bled pretty good in the last one. We aint even two decades out from that great shared maulin of ours. Dont none of the colors got a want for more hurt, even if some fools inside them want to see things done.

You doubt the Columns wants? Green River asked, her coquettish play at mock offense doing little more than making the Regulars nostrils flare.

Been doubtin a plenty of shit recently, Draus said.

Green River leaned back and let the quiet drag for a beat. In silence, she studied her own reflection in the tea before as if trying to divine the right words. Then, her head rose, eyes drifting to study her warring schools of fishes, hunting, feeding, dying in an eternal cycle. She gestured upward, fingers pulling at invisible threads, trying to direct them to look upward.

This was made to serve as something of theater, she began.

Overhead, two schools of fish emerged, as if answering her beckoning. Each fish came in colors of eight. With a mauve manta swimming above them, holding in place to see things done.

At the head of one school, a massive, winged gold-scaled brute of a shark bent the currents with its passing. Flanking it trailed two others: one a biomechanical eel with circuitry that flashed bright red, and the other something inexpressible in form, its insides and outsides shifting like flesh in flux.

Across the way, four adversaries dove out to meet them. The formation of the opposition held different. Twelve piranhas grafted into the tentacles of a silvery octopoid lingered behind its three allies, its limbs open wide like a curved cage. To its front were a green spear-headed serpent and a blue sheen of translucent with a dozen open mouths on its bottom. Behind, a large interconnected hive of worms expanded, more lattice than anything else.

Before the eyes of those below, the factions clashed and havoc was joined. Plumes of ink and ichor spilled free as the veins above grew thick and impenetrable to the gaze, polluted by opacity.

Most looking upon the carnage turned away then. Avos gaze, however, ran deeper than the limits of the material now. So close to the action, he could practically feel the ongoing dance happening above. All that was blood came alight before his sight.

He studied the battle that followed, watching as each bioform fell upon each othereven those they were supposed to be allied within a hurricane of opportunistic bloodshed.

It took him considerable effort to stifle a laugh.

Green River mustve thought herself so smart, so pretentiously artistic if this was how she thought to make her point.

To add further spice to his amusement, it struck him that she was fighting for the wrong point.

The fish, Avo said. Colors represent the Guilds?

Metaphors, yes, Green River continued. She turned to Avo. I think you, for what you are, might appreciate the full picture of the unfolding conflict. That creatures that dream of feeding will always seek to accomplish their design, and not see the true borders of their cage, and think only to further feed their own desire than altering the cage itself to keep them sated.

A good thing, I think. A very, very good thing. The fish, fight, bleed, eat, kill, breed, and continue because they are designed so. They are ignorant of any manner of gnosis or possibility. To them, we may as well be the gods. Unfathomable. Eldritch. The ones that can alter nature to fit their own design.

River, Draus said, what are you on

The fox snarled. But the sound that came from the grafted creature was infinitely deeper than what belonged in the small vulpines throat. Green River herself merely held up a hand. Above, movements went unseen in swirls of hues, the gore of the various fishes suffusing the veins with color-heterogeneity. Let me finish. Please.

Draus clenched and unclenched her fists. She gave a curt nod.

Our great powers, in a sense, are quite like these fish, Green River said. Even quite like you, I daresay. Grotesque and subhuman as you are. For you know your wants so well. And as you said, you would die before you betrayed your power; gave it away. Her lip betrayed the ghost of a quiver. Tell me, Avo. Why are the Guilds at war with one another?

Avo blinked. He checked his Morality Injector.

It was still active. Suppressing the worst of his impulses. In the dungeons of his Metamind, he could hear the beast choking.

But then what was making him want this? What was making him still want to hurt her so?

Astute you are, ghoul, Green River said. The fox winked at him. We are not at war with Ori-Thaum. No, I daresay we are helping them.

A sharp inhale came from his side. Draus heartbeat accelerated.

As with the fish, presently, the major divide between the Guilds can be parted between those who are Massist and those who are Saintists. Power governed by the collective, with Ori-Thaum, Stormtree, Sanctus, and Ashthrone joined in this shared enterprise. The Saintists, meanwhile, are of the No-Dragons, Omnitech, and Highflame. Such was the case for the Fourth Guild War.

A new symbol fused between Ori-Thaum and Highflame. The sign of a tree with nine branches cleaved into shape by a bolt of falling lightning. However, as stated by our dear ghoul, the Guilds will almost certainly fall upon each other in the aftermath of felling their targets of priority. Ninth Column likely has cause to believe that Highflame and Stormtree are improving relations. With a possibility that the latter might just see themselves in a different camp should the next war arise.

Draus scoffed. Aint no way.

Green Rivers glee brightened. Why not?

Because, Draus started, the Chivalrics pushed em into Ori-Thaums embrace. Speaking those words made her lip twitch in disgust. Ugly as is, thats the truth of it. We shot 'em in the back for a couple Souls more durin' the last Godhunt. Ain't no sense in it."

Chivalrics?

Draus sighed. You know Highflame aint exactly a unified front, yeah? Got ourtheir own divides?

Walton might have done a dive or two for an Authority looking for dirt on a rival. Avo was too focused on the craft to pay attention to something as beyond him as politics.

Well, Draus continued. The Chivalrics are the old faction. Leftovers from the surviving knightly orders that turned their banners from gods to Jaus after the Fall. She shrugged. In time, they turned tumorous: grew into internal dynasties determined to keep their own power. Spat on the ideals.

Blessed be the worthy, Green River said. Draus turned her baleful glare on the Sang. The latter tilted her head coyly. Ah. But as you can see, Avo. The former captain has biases within biases. She grinned at Draus. It was rank foolishness for a soldier to cast her lot in with the Meritocrats, wasnt it.

Draus closed her eyes and sighed. You believe what you believe, I reckon.

That was not an answer

Yes, godsdamn you!

Green River beamed, overjoyed to provoke such a reaction from Draus. I apologize again. I have offended you. Her focus turned to Avo. She deserved better. But the same can be said for most Regulars and non-Guilder support working under Highflame during those bleak years

Mirrorhead, Avo said. He was interested in what caused Draus to be exiled from the Tiers. But that was a question more personally acquired than through naked voyeurism. Odder still was how Green River could speak so much without even a threat of violence from the Regular. An imbalance of power remained between them. One that Draus was more reluctant to tread than Green River. It reeked of an owed debt.

Regardless, Green River said, the Chivalrics are looking down the blade tip of their own execution. Through atrocity and naked lust for power, they pushed away a potential ally in the form of Stormtree and crippled the development of everyone not of their lineage. For their defeat in the Fourth Guild Warthis failure so naked none could ignore itVeylis herself has been forced into temporary rulership: A role she is most loathe to assume.

Be plain, Avo said. What does that mean?

It means that she has been purging the Chivalrics slowly over the years, Green River explained. Cutting away their bases of power. Forcing some of them into open duels. Choking their finances. And offering the worst offenders to the other Guilds to make examples of as apology gifts. Green River nodded. Be it not said that the High Seraph is without honor.

Nonetheless, the gist is this: with the influence of the Chivalrics fading, Veylis and the Meritocrats seek to make nice with Stormtree with offers of recompense. An act that, if successful, threatens the balance of power in the great Guild equation. But with the eldest son of the Greatling family lineJhred Greatling, or Mirrorhead of Conflux as he is known to a fewthe column seeks to keep the scales evened and the struggle heavy for all to bear.

Avo grunted. So. Column wants me to maintain the status quo by making Scalpers and Conflux fight somehow?

Green River shook her head. That would be too simple. No. They want you to ensure his plan is brought to near fruition before he is stopped. Slain.

His plan? Avo asked.

Green River said nothing for a moment. Instead, she pushed forward the locus she laid upon the table earlier. Here. Take a dive. Have a peek into the mind of your prey-to-be.