“I’m sorry.” Moira fought to make her voice as earnest as possible. “Truly Scorio. I am.”
This gave him something new to grasp onto, and his shock gave way to fresh fury. A flood of power slipped from within him—was that Gold mana he used?—and his form rose into a frightful monstrosity, black scaled, massively behorned, fangs pressing down over his lower lip, easily rising another couple of feet in height. The water, already steaming, began to bubble, and he raised twin sets of white-hot claws from the depths. “You’re sorry?” His voice took on a demonic undertone, unworldly and terrifying.
He was about to remove her head. Moira fought the urge to leap from the pool. She’d never get away in time.
“It wasn’t my intent that they should suffer. Nor you. I didn’t know what the plan was, its full dimension, nor how Praximar would run with it to consequences so extreme that I barely recognize the Hell we now live in.”
Scorio hunched, ready to lunge at her.
She raised one forestalling hand. “I’m an enemy of Praximar’s and nearly a traitor to my House, Scorio. I’m working with rebels to undo the damage that was done. I swear this upon my heart.”
The self-inflicted heart oath flooded the room with the stored Silver mana she kept secreted in the bottom of her reservoir, sealing the words with absolute truth. The man felt the power of her words and paused.
“I warned Praximar of the White Queen’s intentions, thought we could leverage the chaos for advantage. He never confided to me what his plan was, he left the matter in Eira’s hands, who turned to Manticore. I promise you that I am aghast at what has taken place, and will work with you to undo it.”
Scorio’s shoulders relaxed but a fraction. “Is that so? Tell me what’s happened since I fell.”
Moira gently exhaled. So far so good. “Pyre Lady Druanna’s attack on The Celestial Coffer failed due to a timely and planned intervention of House Hydra warriors. The Coffer was able to escape, though Captain Thorne died. Druanna surrendered, was taken prisoner, and executed. Octavia and her forces were meant to be taken by surprise, but they were ready for Hydra’s assault in Bastion. Basilisk turned traitor, warning Kraken of the plan. For a month Bastion was a battlefield, as Hydra fought Basilisk and Kraken in the streets. It wasn’t till Chimera was convinced to join Hydra that a tense peace took place, which was sealed by the Iron Tyrant’s arrival.
“He was, as you can imagine, quite wroth. Praximar apologized for the interruption in shipments and explained that there had been no time to appeal to the Tyrant to adjudicate.”
Moira smiled darkly. “All knew that treachery had taken place, but the Tyrant cared only for establishing order. Kraken was broken, Basilisk driven into hiding, and none of their higher ranked members were able to intervene in a timely manner. The Tyrant respects strength, which Praximar had demonstrated. He accepted Praximar’s promises that shipments would resume on time, and departed.”
“What of the White Queen?”
“By the time she must have heard of it the situation was fait accompli.” Moira relaxed further, extending her arms out on either side of the pool’s edge. “She could have worked her way back, I suppose, but that would have meant giving up her new commitments and battles to reassume her mantle as ruler of the Plains. No. I’m sure she rued Praximar’s actions and the failure of her plans, but we’ve not heard from her.”
Scorio shrank back down into his human form. “So that’s it? Praximar got away with his coup?”
“In short? Yes. Basilisk was removed from the Council, along with the people’s representative… ah.”
Scorio’s expression turned venomous. “What?”
“Praximar was…” She tried to find the right words.
Kyrie came to her rescue. “Brutal. Visiting retribution on the people of Bastion.”
Scorio went very still.
“He found the ringleaders of the rebellion—they weren’t hiding anymore—and had them executed,” said Moira softly. “Their bodies put on display. He reinstated the old policies and bolstered the House Hydra guard numbers so that punitive patrols could walk the poorer wards. From what I understand it has not been… gentle.”
Scorio closed his eyes, lowered his chin, and shuddered. The black aura that crackled in the chamber grew so oppressive that Moira couldn’t restrain sharing a worried glance with Kyrie.
“The bastard,” whispered Scorio.
“Yes, precisely. I sought to stop him, but… well. I failed. The more I complained, the more I was sidelined.”
“Why do you care?” Scorio’s eyes flicked open. “You’re House Hydra. You benefit.”
“Praximar benefits. His visions for the Academy benefit. He’s confiscated House Basilisk’s share of the Gold mana and given House Kraken’s to the Iron Tyrant. But in Deep Hell, the Blood Barons and Crimson Earls have taken note. For now House Hydra’s leaders stymie those of the other houses, but one day soon a Charnel Duke or Crimson Earl from a rival House shall find the opportunity to return and exact revenge.”
“The Accord of Indemnity,” said Kyrie softly, “proscribes anyone above Blood Baron from ruling Bastion directly. But that doesn’t mean someone of power might not return to right the scales.”
Scorio didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring down at the heated water, eyes wide.
“It’s a perilous balancing game,” said Moira softly. “Should a Basilisk Charnel Duke come to confront Praximar, it’s likely that a House Hydra Crimson Earl would follow. They hesitate so as to not start an inter-house war.”
“Praximar has already begun one,” said Scorio dully.
“But everything that has happened here is of relatively low stakes,” said Moira. “Those embroiled in Deep Hell are not affected. Even the Iron Tyrant has benefitted from his increased stake. This is, for the most part, a local matter. Right up until it’s not. And that comeuppance is what I seek to avoid.”
“How long?” Scorio blinked and fixed her with his smoldering stare. “How long was I below?”
“It’s been over two years since you died.”
Scorio closed his eyes as his head rocked back. She saw him take that fact and internalize it. “Two years.”
“Much has changed.” She kept her voice soft, soothing.
“Manticore?”
“Exalted for their role in what took place. Davelos has been made the permanent steward of the Fiery Shoals. He has increased the monthly quota in a variety of ingenious ways due to how Gold mana enhances his intellect. Simeon and Ydrielle command The Celestial Coffer. Evelyn operates an extraction operation at the Chasm, attempting to duplicate the system in place here.”
“And Dameon?” Scorio’s voice was hard, but he seemed in control of himself. “Where’s Dameon?”
“He’s been given command of one of the floating islands as his own. He runs a Manticore training camp there.”
Scorio nodded as if he’d suspected as much.
For the first time, Moira wondered how much of this all Scorio already knew.
“But not for much longer.” She watched Scorio carefully, trying to gauge how quickly to continue revealing information. “They’ve grown in wealth, power, and prestige. Dameon has announced that Manticore departs for the Iron Weald when next The Celestial Coffer arrives. He intends to make his way to the Silver Unfathom, where he means to establish an outpost for his group, as well as venture deeper into the Lustrous Maria.”
Scorio considered. “The Lustrous Maria. That’s as far as Dread Blazes can go.”
Moira said nothing.
They sat in silence but for the watery echoes of voices deeper within the baths.
“I know what you want and I can give it to you,” said Moira. “You have no reason to trust me but that trust can be earned with blood.”
“Davelos.”