House Hydra suffered a crisis of leadership that saw three different Dread Blazes seek to claim power only to be deposed by their fellows; the number of their injured and dead due to Druanna’s assault left them at almost half strength, and those who were seen in public appeared dazed and bereft.
Octavia wasted no time in mounting a campaign to vindicate House Kraken’s reputation, but her efforts were curtailed by the Iron Tyrant who demanded no accounts to be given to the public until a thorough if expedited examination of what had transpired could take place.
More importantly, the tumult, death, and upheaval finally resulted in House higher-ups returning to Bastion the following day.
Scorio and Naomi learned all this from the confines of their Academy suite. The Tyrant had sent word that they were to remain out of sight until summoned, and a harried administrator had placed them in a set of old guest rooms whose furnishings were still covered in sheets and with stunning views out over the front of the Academy and the citadel beyond.
At first, Scorio had thought them forgotten and forced to starve; would the Tyrant have understood if they broke his command to find food? But then a garrulous cook called Brogam began bringing them regular meals and information, lingering as they ate to offer his opinions and attempt to wheedle them into placing bets about how events would play out.
“It’s all everyone’s talking about,” he said on the third day as he set their tray down on a broad desk. “Charnel Duke Plassus of House Kraken arrived moments before Charnel Duchess Vermina of House Chimera. I heard the tension was so thick entire swathes of the crowd keeled over, clutching at their throats.”
Naomi stared at Brogam over her cup of tea.
“Well, not literally choking, but you get what I mean.” Brogam seemed remarkably inured to Naomi’s glares. “Word is the White Queen’s not going to make an appearance; she’s apparently already reached the Topaz Plateau in the Shadow Lands.”
Scorio turned from the window. “The Shadow Lands?”
“And how do you know?” asked Naomi.
Brogam cheerfully pulled a silver platter off what looked like a mound of cold weeds. “What do you think Academy staff gossips about? We hear just about everything. There’s always a servant cleaning, a maid putting out fresh linens, an attendant bringing wine…”
Scorio studied Brogam. The man was rotund, balding, with a constant smile and quick eyes. “Guess we should be careful of what we say around you.”
“Oh, I’m the man of the hour, seeing as I nabbed you both as my charges. Everyone wants to know whether you’re feral beasts or fiends incarnate.” Brogam stood and raised his palm. “As the Imperators are my witness, I’ve said nothing but the truth about you both.”
“Which is?” prompted Naomi.
“Why, that you’re moody, restless, but decent folk.” He filled two glasses with faintly luminous juice. “Everyone’s terribly disappointed. Oh, here’s a nice tidbit: Eira of House Basilisk has appeared and claimed her House members from House Hydra jails. Word is she delivered a sealed letter to both Plassus and Vermina from the Seamstress herself, so that’s fun.”
“Helminth lives?” asked Scorio.
“Oh yes, though I doubt she’ll be coming back to the Academy. Well, who knows? Regardless, everyone’s over in the citadel, and enormously displeased. Though I’ve heard from a cousin who runs messages over there that the lower echelons of the staff are loving it. All these high and mighty Great Souls put their faith in Praximar’s twisted little system and now they have to eat wart soup.”
Brogam stepped back and surveyed the spread. “There. Fit for an Imperator. Well, one that’s not too discerning.” There was a knock on the door. “Now who will that be?”
Standing outside were Leonis and Lianshi. Brogam eyed them with avid curiosity, but bowed to Naomi and Scorio and let himself out.
The four stood staring at each other till Scorio gestured to the chairs. “Please. Take a seat.”
“I’m glad to see that you’re not always a horned fiend,” said Leonis with false cheer. “Makes it more understandable that we’d have been companions.”
Lianshi clasped her hands between her knees and sat stiffly. “We wanted to come pay our respects. And… perhaps learn a little more of what was kept from us. Apparently, we were once… close.”
“We were. The three of us appeared with another student called Asha in the original Gauntlet run.” Scorio felt a knife twist in his heart as he stared at the pair of them. Leonis, resolute, frowning slightly. Lianshi, pale, nervous. They looked almost exactly the same, but they’d never before gazed at him like this. A gulf yawned between them. A chasm forged by death and forgetfulness.
Scorio cleared his throat. “I was cast out by Praximar for being a Red Lister, and met Naomi here in the ruins during my exile. But you both remained true friends, and agreed to train with me secretly in the old Academy’s Gauntlet.”
Both looked shocked. “The old Academy’s Gauntlet still works?”
“It does!” Scorio laughed. “It’s how we came to be friends with Nox, the Imperial Ghost Toad. We ran the old Gauntlet countless times. It’s why we did so well in the final run. I came first, but I’d never have managed it without you both.”
Naomi scowled.
“Naomi helped some, too,” Scorio allowed.
“I can’t believe I have to put up with this,” she muttered.
“Of all the impossibilities we’re being asked to believe,” said Leonis, “the fact that we were favorite friends with that fiendish toad taxes me the most. We spoke briefly before he burrowed away. He sent his regards and… wished you better luck in future spawning pools?”
Scorio snorted and shook his head.
“Why…” Lianshi hesitated. “Why did Praximar hate you so?”
“Why indeed.” Scorio exhaled. “Because I wasn’t willing to do as he wished, I guess. I didn’t die when he threw me through the Final Gate. I had the temerity to help Sol the Imperator so that he sponsored my return, overriding Praximar’s desires. I refused to be blackmailed by him when he learned of my brief stint as a criminal. Because… I don’t know. I guess it’s because I wanted to walk my own path and forge my own truths, and not simply accept what he wanted me to believe.”
The pair exchanged a guilty look.
“What?” asked Naomi.
“We were all too happy to accept what he told us,” said Leonis, his voice a low rumble. “At first. Glittering Sage pills, Luminous Ghost dust, Fat Crickets… we felt… special. As we are, of course, but it always seemed…”
“Duplicitous,” said Lianshi. “The way he smiled at us, knowingly, the way he hinted at our future utility. We didn’t know any better, of course, and as you imagine did well during our first year—”
“I came in seventh in the tournament,” grinned Leonis. “Somehow she came in fifth.”
“And we both were in the top ten for the Gauntlet run,” added Lianshi. “A source of immense pride at first, but over the course of our second year… I don’t know. Cracks started to appear in the lies we were told. Rumors. Ravenna, of House Kraken, once sought us out and attempted to tell us the truth. Of our friendship with you. We didn’t want to hear it at the time, you being a Red Lister and all, but…”
“I understand. Congratulations, by the way. You were both just Emberlings when you…”
“Were murdered,” said Naomi flatly.
Lianshi leaned forward. “Who killed us?”
“Manticore.” Scorio said the name with soft loathing. “I was tricked into going to the Fiery Shoals to enact House Hydra’s attack on The Celestial Coffer. While I was gone you were both killed. Your graves still stand by the Chasm.”
“I managed to flee,” said Naomi. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to help you.”
“Manticore.” Leonis’s face darkened. “Dameon took a special interest in us both. For the longest time, we thought he was trying to recruit us away from Hydra, but now…”