The Ether Tank heaved with business, as Eliksni of the Botza District gathered for libations and entertainment. Some Cityfolk were present as well, along with a handful of Lightbearers. In one corner, the Spider held court, but grumbled as activities were going on without much input from him, and without consulting his opinion. Morgan's Ghost, Eyeball, was projecting an image of the relic the Titan had taken off of Val'aug the Brute. At the table with them were the Light Kell and the Drifter, both of whom were leaning in to examine the picture.
It was difficult to read Misraaks's expression, hidden as it was beneath his ether-mask, but Morgan heard the faint rumble from the big Eliksni. "You've seen something like this before, your Kellship?"
Misraaks grunted. "Not in many a cycle. Some of the old crews were... known to carry things like this."
Drifter scratched at his jaw. "I heard stories about these relics," the rogue Lightbearer muttered. "But nothin' more than rumor."
Morgan shrugged. "We're storing it on the H.E.L.M. for now. You want to study it more in depth, I'm sure Ikora will give you the okay."
Misraaks nodded slowly, idly tapping a dactyl off the rim of his Glintwisp cocktail. "I may do this."
"Well, that's all to the good," Drifter sat back in his chair. "The rest of the haul from raidin' the Brute's hideout will go a long way." He cracked a grin. "Paid so well I can afford to be a little generous." He clapped his hand against the table, drawing the eye of the Eliksni barkeep. "Next round's on me!"
He grinned as the inhabitants of the establishment cheered, but looked more sober as he regarded the project of the relic again. "Rumors I heard about these things," he came back to the topic, "if the pirate crews that Eramis is rallyin' have these things... if Eramis is trying to find these things, that bodes." He sat back with a grunt, a hand resting on the butt of his hand cannon. "Not sure what of, yet, but it bodes."
Morgan nodded, about to continue the conversation, but then a broad-shouldered Eliksni darkened the door, pausing there as his gaze swept briefly around the Ether Tank. The habitues looked back at him. He wore the armor of a warrior, one which did not bear too many markings of war yet. He did not wear the banner of House Light, but a rust-gold banner with a black sigil of crossed swords over a loop of twisted wires. The banner hung across one shoulder, and included a secondary scarf that wrapped around the neck and tucked into the front of his armor. Rather than the full ether-mask, his was truncated, only covering his snout, leaving his eyes and the top of his head clear, revealing a scar running across his brow.
Their eyes then fell to his waist. As befitted a warrior, he had the paired swords common to vandals and marauders, though a practiced eye noted that the primary of the pair was a larger blade, the type more common among skiff captains and the higher ranks of their people. Besides the pair, however, there were several other blades hanging off of his belt-- a triangular stiletto, a bifurcated short blade which Morgan judged would be a swordbreaker, a Cossack saber with a carved eagle on the handle, a machete, and a multitude of knives hanging off the straps across the armor.
The warrior stood there, staring back at the crowd, and some of Spider's associates stirred, bringing their lances up, but a click of dactyls from the Eliksni entrepreneur stood them down. A Hunter leaning against the jukebox gave it a sharp jab with his elbow, and the music cued back up. Slowly, the bar returned to its usual buzz of activity, and the warrior in the doorway moved out of the way for someone passing by.
Misraaks rumbled. "Not one of mine," he mused aloud. "His banner..."
"House of Blades," Drifter remarked. "Didn't think I'd see one of them around here." The Eliksni House of Blades was one of a paltry few of the great Houses that had resisted the consolidation under the banner of House Dusk, and had later defied the call of House Salvation. The Blades were fairly isolationist, keeping to themselves out near the Arabian Marshlands and the Indian subcontinent.
"Part of the crew of the Skyspear," Morgan told them, and then raised a hand to the Blades warrior, who saw the movement and started lumbering in their direction. The Titan rose to met him, clasping a forearm in greeting, then turning to the others. "D, Mithrax, this is Bokta Tren, part of my ship's raiding crew. Tren, this is Drifter, and--"
"Misraaks." Tren's voice was a baritone rasp. "Sacred Splicer. Kell of Light." In a movement too quick for any of them to see, his paired swords were out with the ringing sound of drawn steel, an added growl beneath the sound. "Captain of Death."
The bar had gone silent again, as Misraaks stared the warrior down. Spider was leaning forward in his throne. Behind Tren, there was a crackle of lightning, as Morgan's good eye glowed with Arc Light. "Consider your next actions carefully, Tren," the Titan told him, flatly.
Tren did not turn, his four eyes fixed on Misraaks. The Kell stared back at him. "I am no longer that Eliksni," he replied, but there was an edge to his voice as he continued, "And you do not want to meet him."
But Tren grated out a short laugh. "I am Bokta Tren, of the noble House of Blades. How else to keep myself sharpened but against a worthy edge?"
The bar was silent, and Misraaks was growling faintly as he stared down the upstart warrior. Morgan finally cleared his throat. "Tren. Would you shame your Captain by behaving so uncouth, so publicly?" The Blade paused, turning a baleful glare at the Titan, who stared him down, a spark of lightning crackling from his eye. But Tren subsided, lowering his weapons. Morgan glanced at the Kell of Light, then suggested, "But if the Kell would consent to a private spar, away from this many eyes, I'm sure that could be arranged."
Both of them looked thoughtful, and from his corner, the Spider called out, "I could certainly arrange it!" But his interjection drew a louder growl from Misraaks.
"I think I'll arrange matters," Morgan dismissed the fat old pillbug. "Tren, I admire the brass you're showing, but a newblood does not challenge a Kell so openly."
"In House Blades, it is expected of us to challenge our betters, to hone ourselves," Tren grumbled.
"This is not your House," Misraaks snapped. "And your House does not war with mine."
Tren's eyes gleamed. "Does it not?" But he gave a short nod, then gave the ireliis bow with his swords. "I beg the Light-Kell's pardon for my actions. As Captain says, I was being shameful. But I would be honored, O Kell, if you would cross swords with me at some point."
"Purely to take your mettle, young warrior," Misraaks agreed. "Not for glory. Just for the honor."
"The honor would be mine, O Kell," Tren sheathed his swords, then blinked as a serving shank floated over with an Ether Fizz balanced on its tray. He picked it up, then saw the Drifter raising his own glass to him. The young warrior toasted back, then took a drink.
Misraaks regarded him. "You have yet to see much battle, Bokta Tren. Your blades are un-notched, but I do see you bear your scars. Did you get yours from House Blades' ways, from challenging your betters?"
Tren grunted. "I challenged one of higher rank," he stated. "But he was not my better."
Morgan nodded in understanding. The Kell glanced over, and the Titan explained, "Tren once crossed swords with Gresdin Sawtooth."
"Not for glory, not for honor," the Blade hissed. "For vengeance. Sawtooth killed my father."
~*~*~*~*~*~
The story came out shortly thereafter, over a few drinks.
The Eliksni House of Blades had largely kept to their old ways during the Long Drift. To be sure, they had turned to piracy and scavenging before arriving in Sol, but this had still largely conflated with their warrior philosophy in any case. Their House had always been renowned for their martial prowess, though they had never sought to rule themselves, rather lending their talents to other Houses, in service. The Long Drift had forced them to use their talents in their own service at last, even as the House lost much.
Arriving in Sol, the remnants of their House had found territory to call their own in the Indian subcontinent, remaining there and fighting off the other Houses, though recognized the strength of some of the majors, like Devils, Wolves, or Kings. Some Blades had taken part in the Great Campaigns, fighting at Six Fronts or Twilight Gap, but following those defeats, the Blades had returned to their territory to marshal their strength again.
Then Oryx had arrived, and Taken their Kell, Yovaris. The House fractured, some wanting to return to the piracy which had served them so well during the Long Drift, while others advocated remaining where they were. The Guardians hadn't been coming for them, as their House hadn't sought to war with the City, so why draw their ire with a war they couldn't win? From the conflict had arisen a new Kell of Blades, Koussaks, who had put down the hawkish rebellion and made it clear there would be no war without the Kell's say-so.
Gresdin Sawtooth, a powerful captain of Blade reavers, had not been pleased with the Kell's decision, making it known publicly. This had not sat well with Lodrik Tren, Gresdin's own Baron, and the disagreement had led to a duel. Sawtooth had won, executing his Baron, then assuming his place in the Barony by right of his victory.
It had also left a young Bokta Tren without a father. The younger Tren-- who had been born after settling on Earth-- had seethed about it, but had bided his time, rising in the ranks and bettering his skill with his swords. At last, he had thought himself ready to challenge the one who had killed his father, but Sawtooth's greater size and strength had won the day, disarming the upstart warrior, leaving him with the lasting scar across his brow.
He'd been spared because other Barons had spoken in his defense. Younger Blades, such as Dalsek Kahn, had not wanted to see one of their creche-mates die, just because old tradition demanded it. Even some of the older Blades had argued against his execution as well-- largely due to their own dislike of the bloodthirsty Gresdin-- who had spat at all of them. But then the elder Falstek, the Swordsmith, had spoken.
"If a sword cracks, is it not reforged and strengthened? And old ways must change. If a style of bladecraft does not evolve, then it stagnates, crippled by its weaknesses." The Swordsmith had glared at Gresdin. "Too many Blades have been broken by you. I'll not see another go."
In the end, it had been the Kell's decision. Koussaks-- known in the human tongue as "Kothax"-- had agreed with the Swordsmith. Gresdin had stood down, but it wasn't long after that Sawtooth had dropped his banner and struck out on his own, declaring that the House had become too soft.
The House of Blades was still holding strong in their lands, largely aiming to keep out of the wider conflicts. "But Koussakskel says the time may come when House Blades must choose a side," Bokta Tren told them as he set down his Ether Fizz. "Most argue that the side is here, beneath the Great Machine. But all Blades wish to keep flying their banner."
Misraaks rumbled. "Understandable. The tales have ever said your House is a proud one. But the House of Blades has preyed upon the people of this world, of this City, in the past, yes?"
Tren shrugged. "Not against this City, not since the last great campaign was smashed."
"Still, it will cause strife." Misraaks tapped his dactyls against his glass. "I would like to meet with your Kell, if he will allow it. To hear, from him, his intentions. But any acceptance of your House into this City must come from Zavalakel and Ikorakel."
Tren nodded. "This can wait. Until Sawtooth is dead. But I will speak to Koussakskel on your behalf, Misraakskel."
Morgan smiled to himself as the two Eliksni reached an accord, then glanced aside as Eyeball appeared next to him. "Morgan, Revenant just called in-- we have a line on one of the pirate leaders, a captain called Ransaaks. If we move quickly, we might be able to catch up to them before they make it into Jovian space."
The Titan nodded, finishing off his drink. "Tren, drink up, then go round up the crew. Rev should be getting the ketch ready to sail while I touch base with Ikora." He looked to Drifter. "You and Misraaks feel free to take a look at that relic if you want. I'm sure the Vanguard will let you come aboard the H.E.L.M. to do so. Any info we can get on these things will be useful."
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