Patriciate

The excavation work of the eco crystal would take time. Seem knew that they didn't have all the necessary tools for the removal of crystal without it blowing up in their face. Mar knew that Damas might just attempt it despite the risk and lack of proper materials in the sudden urgency Seem saw him filled with once they began to return to the surface. Damas marked the position of the crystal that presumably housed the Acheron's. Seem worked to map spotted safe routes from Damas' back as they returned to the sands above.

"I need to speak with my Order," Seem said, voice quiet. "The Council of Elders needs to know." Seem frowned faintly. "I also need to see how the envoy to the Marauder Clans is doing. I haven't received a report yet."

Damas nodded. "We shall reconvene at a later point then Master Seem."

With the agreement and understanding reached Seem and Damas went their separate ways. Seem headed over to her Monks purposefully. The materials they would need were with the Marauder Clans, and that meant she would have to prepare to enter their domain. She tended to avoid the Clans whenever need of them came up. Instead Seem sent proxies to deal with the barbarians and criminals. Recently the young Warrior Master Talin had become her proxy of choice.

Talin caught Seem's eye rather quickly. He wasn't as old as most of the Masters of the Order were for one thing—he barely crested his twentieth year. The Sage's and Elder's reported only good things about Talin, too. A calm and level head surprisingly unseen for someone born of Marauder ilk. Seem's interest piqued there and crested when she learned how well the boy had taken to civilized folk. She could barely see a lick of Marauder in him, and yet he still knew their traditions by rote. A true young prodigy, and so well taken to the Warrior role.

When Talin came to request a team to work with, Seem found herself pleased with his choices. Irma, while in her thirties and only just a Master, had a good grounding in the work required of one of Seem's Guardians. She'd taken on a Novice in young Finn, and Talin wanted to take upon Liren for Apprenticeship. Liren had more of a hot head than Talin, but Seem wondered if Talin could prevail in getting the boy to embrace a cooler form of thought. Then Talin approached her with the final member of his team—a Sage.

Kira worked as a Healer for as long as Seem knew her. She worked near exclusively within the medic division during the time of Seem's mother, as she cared for the Monks until dark eco took her. Kira looked after Seem too when her father couldn't be bothered, and her grandmother found herself lost to Prophecy and uncaring of the world around her. Already Kira approached the position of Elder, and with her gentle but firm nature Seem felt she could do well to direct the otherwise young and impressionable team under an equally young and impressionable leader. In private Kira informed Seem that she looked to the assignment as a vacation.

Seem did not understand how Kira could take the fact that the team would work closely with the various Marauder camps in keeping the peace as a vacation. Still the fact that Kira felt comfortable with the position and was willing to follow the lead of Talin Seem allowed the reassignment. As long as she didn't need to deal with the Clans and none of her Monks were harmed, Seem could care a little less about who settled as part of the diplomatic envoy's. Of course Kira had leeway anyway being so close to the position of Elder to make her choices in assignments with or without Seem's say-so. Seem herself was only a Master for all she led the Monks as a whole.

The Precursor Monks portion of the camp outside the crevasse was busy as Seem anticipated when she stepped into their midst. Healers moved back and forth between the injured that they'd worked to rescue, settled into a make-shift tent for delicate work. They were only the stabilizing force until the Spargans could be transferred back to their city where their own caretakers would continue treatment for their injuries. Further still several Guardians worked to shift barrels of eco off of transports for the medics to use—blue to stimulate nerves, green to push regrowth, red to rebreak and resettle, and yellow to burn away what could not be conducive to green's gentle touch. Each eco had its own use to the medics, after all, as each affected the body in different ways.

Healer Elder Fors oversaw the various Apprentice's, Master's and Sage's that worked with the eco and the injured. Fors had always been a rather crotchety old man in Seem's memory, but well suited to the role to bark orders at the younger members of the Order as they rushed around and worked themselves until Fors demanded rest and breaks. He rotated out his team of medics, which had grown from the initial ten sent out with Seem to the full contingent of twenty—and those were only the medics still active and capable of using their gifts. There were several more that Seem knew were back with the Order working in a more managerial series of roles if only because they weren't trained enough, were healing from an injury, or just could not handle the strain of channeling anymore.

For a moment Seem watched the Healers, Guardians, and Warriors bustle about. She watched as Fors barked orders with her bones weary from exhaustion and the discoveries of the past day. Still more needed to be done, so Seem squared her shoulders and made her way toward Fors, dirty, tired, but determined.

"Master Seem," Fors greeted, voice like reed paper with how faint and cracked it sounded. The sand soaked air did not do the man justice, but he bore the burden well.

"Elder Fors," Seem deferred with a slight dip of her head. When she raised it her gaze darted back over the tent and the bustling medics. "How are the efforts?"

Fors grimaced, lips pulled down in a way that only seemed to amplify the wrinkles in his cheeks. It made him look gaunt and hollow as he spoke in grim tones and even grimmer facts. "We've lost at least five, and another five look to be on their way. We're running low on water to provide and the resupply from Spargus is late."

Seem pressed her lips together, brows furrowed down in contemplation. "An attack, do you think?"

Fors scoffed. "From the Clans? With how much of a struggle they must be in? No. No, child, but perhaps the Hora-Quan, perhaps another creature. Who knows? Perhaps Spargus deigns not to listen to their Lord when He speaks?"

Seem doubted that. Spargus may not believe in the tales of Mar in the way of Havenites, but that didn't mean that they could deny Damas had power and the means with which to wield it. The blood of Mar ran strong in the exiled monarch; stronger than the King before him, and the King before that even if what Seem had been told were true. Still in this desert and heat, with the chaos of the incident, a delayed resupply could be the cause of many things—but always a question and a concern.

Eventually Seem sighed and murmured, "I would hate to drag you away from your post, then."

"But you must," Fors replied.

"I must," Seem agreed. She waited, and then cautiously prompted, "Do you have someone to oversee in your absence?" A moment of silence before Fors called for one of the apprentices and spoke in low tones with the girl. Seem didn't bother to listen in to the conversation; her thoughts drifted through the various causes behind a delay in the resupply. She worried her lip as each concern coiled within her gut like a lead stone snake.

"Master Seem," Fors interrupted her thoughts and Seem jerked her head in his direction. He laid a wrinkled hand upon her shoulder and began to steer her from the tent. "It is handled. Come."

"Yes, Elder," Seem mumbled, and allowed Fors to lead her away.


Damas peered over the maps of the crevasse cobbled together from several members of the rescue efforts from underneath the tent, but found his attention drifted from the conversation around him. His mind moved constantly back to the crystal deep down into the earth, and the pulse that he felt beat out from within it. The combination of dark and light eco intertwined into one another had never been considered to be possible—what could the effects be, Damas wondered. Could it have preserved the Acherons life? Or perhaps their remains in some pristine condition? When even did the eco crystalize? Had that been when the volcano erupted or was it a result of the two severely different types of eco interacting? A part of Damas itched to gather up Mar's journals and read through the thoughts of his ancestor. Mar had quite a bit to write about the Acherons in his later years; thoughts on their research, how things ended up the way they went, and regrets on their fate and what happened to them and to the Sage that stopped them.

Quietly, at his side, Dag murmured, "Lord Damas," and drew Damas' attention away from his thoughts. The tent had cleared; whatever discussion between the leaders of the rescue efforts already completed without Damas' input. Damas didn't mind—he trusted the Spargans to do what they needed, and he trusted Dag to relay his own findings appropriately if he were to be so lost in his own head.

"Can you repeat that, Dag?" Damas asked.

"What has you so troubled?" Dag quarried. "You barely paid attention to the casualty list, and you didn't even react when the supply run was noted to be late."

"Walk with me?"

"Of course, if it helps with your thoughts…" Dag said, and together they stepped out of the tent.

Damas watched the young man that his wife thought would do him good in silence for a moment as they walked through the desert air. Dag's Spargan native blood was apparent in more than just his name; he had the dark skin of the city's native denizens, and the hair that locked and braided neatly. Dag walked straight backed, and even with his diminutive height he seemed to tower over most people; this included at times even Damas. Damas glanced away, looked out over the camp, and gathered his thoughts.

"We need to build a barrier over the crevasse immediately," Damas said eventually. Dag tilted his head slightly but said nothing as he listened. "Master Seem and I reached the bottom—any who dare to venture that far need to also be warned. A majority of the ground is eco crystal," Damas frowned. "Dark eco crystal."

Dag sucked in a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. "Shit," he said plainly, and Damas nodded.

For a moment they said nothing as they reached the edge of the camp, and then Damas sighed tiredly. "How many of our beacons have been recovered?" he asked.

Dag snorted with a grumbled, "So you weren't listening?" and ducked under the playful slap of a hand that brushed against the tips of his fiery hair knotted on the top of his head.

"Impudent brat," Damas said, a small smile on the edge of his face, and Dag laughed. A second later the air turned somber again.

"Truthfully, we've found most of the beacons," Dag said, and he turned his gaze away from Damas and out over the desert landscape as he spoke. Damas frowned. "Our search parties have marked the locations of each beacon without a body for further searching."

"How many of our people…" Damas trailed off, a knot of worry deep in his gut. How many died in this disaster? How many Spargans? How many children?

"We've recovered close to twenty-five," Dag said slowly. "Of those only…only eight are surviving. We lost five in the night, according to the Monks, and another five are severe enough that we don't anticipate survival by days end."

"The rest?"

"Already gone."

Damas closed his eyes in grief and bowed his head down. Mar the ripple effect of the mess caused here Spargus would feel for days. He didn't want to think how many of the Clans were lost—their numbers were smaller than Spargus, and they were spread far out into the Wastes. Some might not be affected, but the closer Clans that had taken to the area for the season—such a waste of life, Damas thought. The desert was a cruel place; harsh to live in and some days the reward didn't seem worth it to Damas. He wasn't Spargan born, however, and he knew they would never give this life up for anything else. Not even the Clans would do so, Damas knew now after years spent among the desert people.

"We'll recover the rest of the beacons," Damas said, and from Dag's look he already knew that the meeting he paid no attention to had decided so without him, "but we'll put the search for any further survivors aside. They are…likely already gone." It hurt Damas to say, but it was the truth in the end and Damas and Dag both knew it.

"What would you like us to do instead, then?" Dag asked.

"Begin building a cover for the crevasse. We are in thunder season," Damas said grimly. "One wrong strike…."

Dag sucked in a breath. "There is that much crystal?" he said, tone just the bit on this side of faint.

"Enough to possibly reach Haven." Damas pressed his lips together and rubbed at his temples. He could feel a headache building. "Furthermore there is…something at the bottom. We need excavation equipment."

Dag blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it with a contemplative look. "This is near the underground molten rivers," Dag said. "According to old maps there was an entrance into the heart of the Volcano nearby at one point; and if the stories are to be believed…the Citadel?" He looked to Damas, who looked to Dag and the nodded. "The Acherons?" Damas nodded again. "Are you sure?"

"I saw their machine," Damas agreed. "It looked as Mar described only…covered in crystal."

"You think they are recoverable?" Dag said, and his hands clenched into fists as he looked at Damas with eyes as dark as his skin.

"It is crystal," Damas said, "but it is still eco."

Crystal, Damas figured, could be channeled like anything else of eco. If a properly trained channeler could manipulate liquid eco into vapor, then why could one not manipulate crystal back into liquid? Sure they had no clue as to how eco crystalized in the first place—in the crevasse it looked as if the eco boiled first, so perhaps heat could be applied to part of the catalyst for the change—but that didn't mean the process wasn't undoable.

"Your mad," Dag said.

"Maybe I am," Damas agreed; he wouldn't deny the thought. Mar seemed quite mad after all, learning to control dark eco in a time where it was taboo—still taboo, really, despite the mess they've made of the world with it. "Now," Damas murmured a minute later, gaze on the horizon, "who is that?"

Dag turned his gaze off into the desert and reached up to the goggles settled over his eyes. He twisted and manipulated the lenses to grant himself more of a zoom to his vision off into the distance. After a moment he stood straighter, arms dropped and clasped at his back in a practiced motion that Damas recognized from whenever one of the Precursor Monks were present.

"It's one of the sand riders," Dag said, "but a Monk is astride it."

"One of Seem's ambassadors, then," Damas sighed, a bit of his tension leaving him. "Let us hope he bears good news for us."


Talin downed the drink offered to him in the tent to soothe his parched throat. The ride from the camp had been long, and the struggle with the Clans to get a hold of a rider took too much time in Talin's not-so-humble opinion. One of the few things he honestly didn't miss about Marauder life had been how unnecessarily complicated they made what should be simple things.

The water dribbled down his chin and Talin quickly wiped it away with a grimace, well aware that he'd probably messed up his own face paint but beyond tired enough to really care about it at this time. He glanced to Lord Damas from under his eyelashes, then to the Spargan ruler's attendant with a tilt of his head.

"Master Seem will be here shortly," Dag uttered.

"Seem called a Council meeting," Damas explained as he poured more water into the cup which Talin quickly squirreled back close to his chest to swallow more. "I take it your expedition bore fruit?"

Talin set the cup down with a soft breath and said, "After a fashion." He looked at the cup and wondered if he should wait for Master Seem to arrive before he explained, but then he thought about the long drive and the mess of the Marauder Camp and sighed. "The Chieftan will only entertain the idea of a truce as long as you are there to present it to him, Lord Damas."

Damas pursed his lips. "Aermsmin said that?" he questioned, and Talin nodded sharply.

"The Clans are not in a good way." Talin bit his lip, comfortable in the presence of Damas despite how initially he'd been raised wary of the idea of the man. "The crevasse tore near through the main encampment. There's been plenty of loss and injury on their end as well." It didn't take Talin much to conclude that Spargus' own losses were significant either; not if Master Seem was in a meeting with the Council of Elders.

"It's even worse," Damas said, gaze off in the distance. "We'll need the Clans to help cover the whole of the crevasse."

Talin blinked. "Cover it?"

"Master Seem and I made a discovery at the bottom," Damas looked right at Talin, gaze sharp enough that Talin shivered from its intensity. "The entire of the desert is at risk if we leave the crevasse as it is."

Talin carefully set down his cup and looked at Damas with his brow pinched down. He wasn't a fool; Talin could read between the lines easily. He'd spent his whole life on this desert. He knew this place better than most even with time spent mostly among the Monks these past handful of years. After a second Talin nodded and murmured a faint, "I see," in time for Master Seem to enter into the tent.

"I apologize about my delay," Seem said shortly with a dip of her head in Damas' direction. "Master Talin, was your trip a success?"

Talin glanced to Seem and quickly stood to his feet. He made a short gesture with his hand in greeting and ducked his head. "To an extent it can be viewed that way, Master Seem," Talin replied, "however Chieftan Aermsmin has some caveats before he fully agrees to a truce or armistice at this time."

There was a flash across Seem's face, quick enough that Talin couldn't quite decipher but Damas could. Still, once pressed back into composure expected as the Head of the Precursor Monks Seem tilted her head back in acknowledgement of the news Talin brought.

"Very well," Seem uttered, hoarse whisper just the slightest bit covered in steel that made a shiver run up Talin's spine. "Let us hear the Chieftan's demands."