It Knows Not What It Is

Back at the inn in town, Valens beckoned the company to gather around an outdoor table tucked along the building’s side.

Longinus cast a long glance towards the front door. “Four nights camping in the snow, broken only by one in cold ruins, and we can’t sit by the fire?”

“There are ears near the fire. What needs to be said in confidence is best said indoors when the weather is mild, and outdoors when it is not. Come. This is important, but it will not take long.”

Valens’ grandson grumbled, but his words were lost in the wind, and he slid onto one of the table’s benches, next to his mother. He cast a glance across her at the Rhatian, and gave him a curt nod. While not exactly warm, it was a better look than the ones Atia, in her younger days, had cast at some of Valens’ flings and paramours.

In any case, Longinus was distinctly less an image of chastity than his mother: three nights ago had almost certainly not been his first time with Ere nor with Hoy, though it may have been Hoy’s first time with a woman. Such freewheeling not unexpected, in this way of life, though Valens’ example hadn’t helped. Well, he did have a practical reason to avoid commitment: legitimate children were more likely to be perceived as threats by Hypatios and his bloodline. Did Valens then need to raise a daughter on the road by himself? Not strictly, but the challenge of raising her right while blind and destitute might have helped keep him going through the depths of despair. What about the two younger bastards, raised by their mothers? The barmaid’s kid was doing fine, but his son by the Ethperran treasure-hunter… that boy would probably try to duel him to the death, if they ever crossed paths again, so he just kept his distance.

Pulling his mind away from loves new and old, he cleared his throat.

“The first thing I have to say will be old news to some here, confirm the suspicions of others, and blindside at least one or two of you. Rufio: to your understanding, who am I?”

“Your name is Valens, you are one hundred and twenty-seven years old, and you’re a monster-hunter. More than that, I cannot say, without wild speculation.”

“Even that is more than I expected you to say. Can anyone besides my daughter and grandson add–”

To his surprise, Hadrian, their specialist treasure-hunter, stood suddenly. “You are Valens, first of that name, by the grace of the King on High, Protector of His Church, true Emperor and Autarch of the Rhatians.” He bent to one knee.

Judging by the glances around the table, the news itself was a shock to everyone but Atia and Longinus, who were nonetheless shocked that Hadrian had been aware.

“...You’ve known this a long time, haven’t you?”

“I did not approach you about joining this company solely because of your reputation as a monster-hunter, though that did help put my mind at ease about the dangers of doing so. My full name is Gaius Sixtus Hadrianus, and I represent a faction that would see you restored to the throne, when the hour is right. Now that I have thoroughly confirmed the rumor that your sight has been restored, whether this is that hour depends on why you’ve chosen it to reveal yourself, even just to this company.”

“Sixtus…” Atia tucked her hair on one side firmly behind her ear, as she often did while in deep thought. “So the governor of Lyria would be your…”

“Brother.”

“And that would make the governor of Temonia your…”

“Father.”

“...Which would make yours the most powerful Lyrian family in the Empire since my father was usurped.”

“Ethnic ties are not the sole reason we are willing to enforce his rights, but they certainly do not hurt our enthusiasm. There were few truly great emperors between the Century of Crisis and the Fall of the West, but the ones who could at least staunch the Empire’s wounds to any real effect were the Lyrian soldiers, warlords and adventurers who took the throne when no other worthy man was able and willing.”

Valens nodded. “Rise, and then have a seat, Gaius Sextus Hadrianus. You may take heart in what I have to say next, or it may give you pause. I hope that, in the months you have adventured with this company, I have earned your personal trust, beyond some abstract sense of my right to rule.”

Hadrian resumed his seat, and Valens leaned in close.

“Three days ago, I was contacted by my nephew, Petrus.”

Hoy crossed his arms. “Contacted? In a hidden ruin deep in the mountains? How?”

“Psychic tether. Lunar magic.”

Hadrian’s brow tilted. “With your nephew?”

“Petrus always had an unusually easy time mastering the Lunar Discipline, for a man, even before he was made a eunuch. That tether’s been intact for over sixty years, but until recently, he was afraid to use it. Now, however, the usurper Hypatios’ grandson has ousted the heretical prelates who’ve been suppressing the Celestial Disciplines, and has appointed Petrus to the office of High Prefect.”

“...And he’s proposed a palace coup?” There was hope in Hadrian’s voice, but also suspicion.

“He alluded to such a thing, but I have my misgivings. He speaks of dangers threatening the Empire from without, which I might beat back at the head of an army, but I fear danger from within. If I seize the throne again, I fear I might provoke another civil war. If the external threats are as bad as he says, that is the last thing the Empire needs. I intend to go to Aureliopolis, and to follow at least that part of his plan which would regain me the support of the city’s common people. If I could then leverage that to gain some office that comes with the authority to raise an army– Prefect of the West, Stratarches, one of those top-level military ranks– I might be able to help the Empire without doing it any further damage.”

Hadrian nodded, but his face still had a hard set. “It would be an improvement, but if I may presume to advise Your Majesty, I see it as an unfavorable, unnecessary, and potentially dangerous compromise. As an initial foothold in the halls of power, it may suffice, but if you are left in control of an army, I would expect a great effort to have you assassinated before you could do anything to gain the troops’ personal loyalty. Even if you fear to start a civil war, he may assume that is your intent, as soon as you grasp for the means to do so. Ultimately, I think, the heir of Hypatios should be made at least to suffer what you have, if not killed outright.”

“And if, on meeting the man, I decide he cannot be trusted with power, then I will take your advice. But if he is worthy, then I– who pressured a senile and dying emperor to name me his heir– have little place to question any sign that the grandson of a usurper is chosen by the King on High for the role, should any such sign present itself. You know that the Bolthoi are on the move again, and there are disturbing rumors out of the east. The Empire must stand as united as it can.”

Perhaps not wholly satisfied in his heart, but satisfied enough to let loyalty fill in the rest, Hadrian bowed his head. “Whatever your plan, however far you choose to grasp, you have the support of the Sixti.”

“I’m all for the benefits of being either a general’s grandson, or an emperor’s,” Longinus said, “but what exactly is the plan, and what do you need the lot of us to do?”

“Petrus informed me of a monster haunting the seas around Aureliopolis. He had few details to offer, save that it was larger and fiercer than the largest beast I have yet slain. Killing it was the first step of his plan. I will need all the help this company can spare, but I’m not sure it can spare much. If the Bolthoi strike the Empire soon, it will almost certainly be here, and they have the Leupin and King-knows-what shadow-spawn in league with them. Lyria needs monster-hunters at least as much as Aureliopolis does.”

Atia didn’t give the others a moment to digest the problem. “I’ll be coming with you.”

“Atia, you’re used to dealing with monsters that look the part. Every single man, woman and child in the capital is a two-faced, compulsive liar.”

“What, we haven’t dealt with shady tinkers and traps laid by highwaymen on the road? You need someone who can keep you honest, if only with yourself.”

Valens nodded in concession. “Hadrian, I take it you have some experience of politics?”

“Provincial politics are not so subtle in their brutality as the palace, but I am not guileless. I will come, and leverage my House’s resources as the need arises.”

“And of course, Rufio was already headed that way. Whether he chooses to continue his stint as a monster-hunter once we arrive, or return to his craft as an iconographer, is his prerogative. I must warn you, Rufio, that either course of action will mark you as an enemy of the old guard among the Hypatioi loyalists. In the capital, any interaction with me will be inherently political. Any art will be political, and religious art triply so. King’s grace protect you if you become an open fan of either the Blues or the Yellows.”

“The… Blues? Or Yellows?”

“Chariot-racing is a dangerous sport, and not just for the charioteers.”

Rufio gulped, but nodded, confirming at least partial understanding. He’d figure it out as he went along.

“I think,” Valens announced, looking to Longinus, Ereleuva, and Hoy, “that leaves Longinus in charge, and the three of you to hunt down the Bolthoi’s pets, wherever they show themselves. Do not bite off more than you can chew, but I’ll leave you enough money to hire sellswords or buy specialized equipment, where the need arises, and I trust Hadrian’s brother will pay out a good bounty for shadow-spawn you manage to kill.” He shot Hadrian a meaningful look. “This is a matter of provincial security, after all.”

Hadrian nodded, as did Longinus and the two outlanders.

“There is another Leupin active in the province, from Rufio’s report, but it is supported by a Bolthoi warband. Do not go pursing it across the wilderness, unless you have at least a few provincial troops or a large militia backing you up. A better quarry for a trio of hunters, I think, would be its Shadowman spawn. Longinus, if you recall the Oaf you helped me flush out last summer, a Shadowman is a changeling with the same sort of abilities. Only differences of note are that they bleed smoke that will counteract Celestial magic, as Leupin do, and their intentions are the most misanthropic of any such creature. In the experience of every hunter who’s managed to out one, they’ll insert themselves into some small community, a hamlet or village with some lonely soul they can kill and replace. It’s said they must then devour an entire generation of that community’s young to grow into a Leupin, but that might be more the symbolic broad strokes of their goal than their exact aim– they aim to destroy a community, be that through killing more people than can be replaced, subverting its defenses against outside threats, or turning it on itself.”

Ereleuva cast her eyes down. “That’s what it wanted with me, I suppose? Then with Atia, once it noticed her Nephilic eyes? To sire some monster that could take a human shape, before growing into another of its own kind?”

Well, Valens had anticipated that suspicions would be confirmed at this table. Atia put a hand over her mouth, and Rufio looked away uncomfortably, but Valens met Ere’s eyes. “You must not allow yourself, or another woman of childbearing age, to fall captive to a Leupin. You have the small saving grace of not being their preferred prey: a Shadowman spawned from a Nephilic victim will have full use of the Elemental Disciplines. The only things I can say to lighten the matter, are that they seem unable or unwilling to subject more than one victim to this abomination in a short timeframe, and that the victim never lives to suffer the process more than once.”

Longinus cast a grim look first at her, then at Hoy. “We’ll flush them out. Although I suspect, in the capital as much as here, we’ll all be checking under every human face for a monster underneath.”