Guliv followed Huna as the two of them made their way through the fortress of the JALF, an idiotic acronym if any existed, and took notice of the paranoia and fear sweeping through the men and women stationed there. He heard murmurs of certain death, along with some debating desertion. That was a stupid idea, not only due to the fact that desertion was a crime, but also because they had no way to run. Skiffs sailed on the open sands, and walking the Dust was like trying to swim through an ocean. Possible for fish and Oceanos, not for big hairless monkeys, big pointy eared monkeys, big green monkeys, or big bugs. The same was true of the Dust.

Guliv continued following Huna into the main keep of the place, catching the lingering glances of the common soldiery as they marched into the building. The walls and floors were all the smooth, overmolded stone that military planners loved, since it was easy to make, but there were a few marks of artistry, little unnoticeable and barely articulable flourishes that proved the building being made by people, and not simply erected by a natural process.

They eventually found their way to a room far out of the way and opened the door once they ensured no one had followed them. Inside, there was a circular table with four chairs, two of them being taken up by an orc with a respectable appearance and an old woman so wizened that she gave even Guliv pause. In another spot, Aetra layed, with her upper body still taller than everyone in the room, “You two, sit down. I would be polite, but we don’t have the time,” Huna and Guliv sat immediately, “Good. Now, what in the names of the Creators happened? Why did Mori run off?”

“I-I can explain, Ma’am,” Huna said sheepishly, “There was this really big flying Clockwork. It was attacking the forward base within the Aekan Valley and-”

“Wait, you’re already done?” the old woman asked, surprised, “I was wrong, Yutrad. If we survive, I’ll buy you and your boyfriend a meal at the best restaurant in Green Oasis.”

The orc, Yutrad, gave a smug smirk, “Told you,” he said to her, turning to Guliv and Huna, “What did the big flier look like?”

Guliv took the chance to answer, so as not to give Huna the impression he was helpless, “It was as large as our outpost, according to the few who saw it, and was armed with five main cannons. It also looked quite similar to skiff captained by the lich, with walls on each side. There were also a large number of smaller flying Clockworks chased after the lich within it. Too many, in fact.”

“Too many?” Aetra asked.

“Ma’am,” Huna answered, “I believe that the flying ‘Cyst’ as we were told it was called, can produce Clockworks in a similar way to a Hive. It is also able to become invisible and can move as fast as a medium sized skiff. I-I was able to observe that it has the capability to produce infiltrators…” she trailed off.

The three representatives stayed silent for a long minute, long enough for Guliv to worry if they had not heard Huna, before they shuddered in unison, “I might not need to pay for that dinner after all,” the old woman remarked, shaking her head, “So, do we know any way to deal with something that can sit just over the horizon and send a n endless number of Clockworks? Flying Clockworks, might I add.”

“How can anyone deal with that?” Yutrad asked, “Wait, what does this have to do with Mori?”

Aetra nodded, “Yes, he’s right. What does this have to do with Mori? Hrm… Yutrad, what are the chances that she would try to lead this army-killing war machine away if she had the opportunity?”

The orc thought for a few moments, “High. Very, very high. That’s what she did, isn’t it?” he pondered aloud, “But how would she do it? It’s not like the Clockworks have anything they put great value in, but she had to have had something…”

The three of them pondered, forgetting the two engineers still sitting at the table, when Huna turned to Guliv with a glance better interpreted as a question. He knew exactly what she was asking, as he heard the rumors as well, and agreed with her. He nodded, letting her take the stage, “We might know what, or rather, who Miss Athantos used to lure the Clockwork away…” Huna said. As much as Guliv despised the lich’s project, he had to concede that, in the time he worked with her, that she was a perfectly adequate person to be around. It was simply her taste for playing god that got on his nerves. The same was true for every necromancer, mechamancer, golemancer, cyborg, and other being that played with the lives and bodies of others and themselves, so suppressing his hatred for their types was easy.

Aetra shifted in her spot on the ground, “You do? Then please share with the rest of us.”

Huna nodded, “I must preface this with the fact that these are rumors both of us have heard from the survivors from the forward outpost, but I believe that they hold a kernel of truth. The rumor goes that, an hour before the attack, the warcasket undead returned from its first test run with a woman over its shoulder. She was blonde, with blue skin, teeth and nails made of a similar metal as Miss Athanatos’ armor, and was unhurt, but concussed.

“Miss Athanatos told the medics to see to the woman and, after nothing was found wrong with her, the medics left her in a room in one of the buildings. No one knows what happened inside the building-- though some report hearing the scraping of metal on metal and banging from within the building--- but afterwards, the Cyst attacked the outpost. Every survivor that saw Miss Athanatos report seeing the woman following her around and the Miss herself being annoyed and angry. It was also reported that the woman had odd eyes.”

“Odd?” Aetra asked.

Ushkia chuckled a bit, “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to butter us up so we don’t get mad with whatever you and your people saw. Just tell us. We’ve been dealing with a lot lately, so whatever this mystery woman’s eyes look like shouldn’t be too strange.”

Huna turned to Guliv, pleading for help, and he nodded, “She had pupils in the shape of gears, being the same color of Clocksteel,” he said, “Some are saying that she is a Clockwork.”

The silence and surprise was palpable, but Aetra was the first to speak, “I do not believe that this necessarily means that she is a Clockwork, right?” she asked.

“But no one has ever heard of the Creators giving a Trait that changes pupil shape. Even if they did, who in their right minds would turn their eyes to the color of gears? That is just begging to be called a clock cultist,” Yutrad said.

“Not to mention the nails and teeth,” Ushkia said, “You lot may not go around and hear stories from any random passerby, but we old people have a lot of time. I’ve heard rumors about her armor. It apparently stood up against Sniper’s bullets. As well as the secret apex-hunter bullets. Not only that, but some also have… tales. Tales of the servants of the Creators wearing armor of a unique color. Do you know what color the armor was in the tales?”

“Green,” Aetra answered, “So you’re saying that some common soldiers have tales of green-clad undead doing the bidding of the Creators? That seems a bit specific and, more to the point, important. Why isn’t that common knowledge?”

Ushkia shrugged, “I heard a half dozen tales and legends from the soldiers of Gribnik and they have only a few things in common. One, that the angels of the Creators are either undead or monsters. Two, that they only ever gave advice. And, three, that they always wore some sort of metal accessory. And that metal accessory was always green. The same sort of green that the young undead lady adorns herself with. As for why no one talks about it, my money is on the nobles not giving a damn about their people or their tales.”

“So, you’re saying that she’s really in league with the Creators?” Yutrad asked, “That’s probably a good thing… But, back on topic, this means that the mysterious woman has teeth and nails made out of the same stuff that makes up a god’s angel’s armor? So… she’s an angel for the Demon of the Clock, then?”

“Maybe even a child,” Aetra answered, “But that doesn’t explain why the Hive has been acting up. Or why the Clockwork followed them. If anything, this ‘Cyst’ should have left the skiff alone, seeing as this Clockwork woman is important to them. I don’t know what to make of it…” she muttered, turning to Huna and Guliv, “Were you able to salvage anything from the site?”

Huna gave a large smile, “We were lucky. With the advanced warning, we were able to pack everything up and bring it here once the threat of the Cyst passed.”

The three representatives nodded, “Good work,” Aetra said, “Make sure you send the materials to our lab kids. They’ll have a field day with the stuff we’re bringing back.”

The engineers nodded, standing to take their leave. They left the room as the three began to debate a course of action and walked through the fortress once more, though at a slower rate, “Are you still mad at Miss Athanatos?” Huna asked out of the blue.

Guliv ground his teeth in frustration. He did not have a solid answer, “I’m mad at anyone who plays Creator,” he answered, “But… I don’t know. She is everything I hate on paper wrapped up into one, single person. Or Lich.”

“But she becomes something different from the sum of her parts,” Huna finished, “You need to loosen your mind a bit. Rigid thinking leads to… well, stagnation.”

He scoffed a bit, “You have experience, then?”

She stopped in her tracks, Guliv continuing a step or two before he saw her behind him. He turned back, looking into her eyes. She looked up at him, and he saw her eyes glowing a dull gray, “If I said I have, you wouldn’t be able to fathom what I am even talking about,” she said, speed walking past him and turning a corner, stepping out of sight.

“Huna, wait!” he said, pushing his old body to catch up. He turned the corner, but all he saw was a long, empty hallway, with no side passages to be seen. He looked around for a long moment before turning to go back to the camp. He hoped she would reappear before too long so he could apologize; he did not mean to touch such a sore spot.

*=====*

Huna watched as Guliv walked away, a sad look on both his and her faces. She dispelled the invisibility and walked through the fortress alone, finding a small closet far from prying eyes and ears. She entered, casting a rune onto the handle to keep it closed, locked, and soundproof.

Pulling out a small crystal, she kneeled down and let it hover in between her hands and felt the familiar snap of a Connection with the enemy’s servants, as well as the familiar glow of mana at work, “Greetings, Huna,” the voice said, “Do you have news? The goddess is becoming restless. She understands your prior inability to communicate, but she must know where her daughters are.”

She breathed a deep sigh of relief that the enemy goddess was willing to forgive her, “I know where they have gone. But… Is our agreement still in effect, despite… Whatever is happening?”

“We will continue to uphold our end of the agreement, Huna,” the voice replied, “Your village will not be targeted in any raids, attacks, or similar actions. Now, please tell me where they have gone.”

Huna nodded, more to prepare herself than to communicate with the Clerk of this world, “She went south, riding with… the lich, Mori,” she explained, “The last time I saw her, the Cyst was chasing after them, but no damage was inflicted.”

The voice paused for a few moments, “I see. You have done well. With this, there may be no need to continue our agreement.”

“Wait! What do you mean!? I did as you asked, I followed your instructions and-”

“Please, calm yourself,” the voice said, “You misunderstand. There may soon be no need to continue our agreement because there may soon be no war. That was what you agreed to. Ending the war,” it said, “Do as you wish. From now on, you are free to pursue any desire you wish. If you truly wish, I will be available for you to speak to. It does become quite lonely out here, with little to do. Do call if you have the time.” The crystal’s glow faded, it fell into her hands, and the Connection with the Clerk ended.

She stood, holding tears back in her eyes. She thought that she would die at the end of it all, but she was happy she survived. Maybe the Clerk was right, that the endless war would end and she could one day tell her tale. She lived to tell it, so she wanted to at least exercise that privilege..