Red Faith’s own Goldsigns, bright like trails of blood, made far more sense. And were certainly more useful for intimidating and disconcerting the masses for a psychological advantage.
The Herald had dismissed several Emissaries when he felt the Sage coming, and those Emissaries saluted with their red-covered weapons before they left the room. Red Faith barely saw them. He was fixed on his opposite. His failed clone.
“You’re wasting your time on this farce?” Red Faith demanded as the doors shut behind him. “That you remain here instead of hunting for Yerin Arelius, as I have done, only proves that you do not deserve the independence you stole.”
The Herald, Redmoon, cocked his head to one side. “That you believe searching on your own is more efficient than leveraging an organization establishes to me that you should have ceded to me in our union. The body should always be subordinate to the mind.”
“I am the mind! You are the body!” Red Faith wanted to scratch his own eyes out. “The Sage advances through understanding, and the Herald through brute force!”
“Such shallow understanding for one who calls himself a Sage. You were born flesh and bone, while I was born from the spirit. My origin is that of the mind and the soul, and if I were allowed to lead our union, it would be Reigan Shen who begged our support rather than the reverse.”
Red Faith bit into the skin of his hand, letting the taste of blood and the flow of aura calm him. “Let us at least agree that the perfect fusion is our highest priority.”
“She is living proof of the validity of our research. Your opinion of me cannot be so low that you think I would abandon our ambition.”
It was his ambition, which the former Remnant Redmoon had only stolen, but Red Faith didn’t quibble over semantics.
“Good. Then, since you have such faith in the Hall, tell me what you have learned.”
Redmoon stared at him and began chewing on a fingernail. Red Faith left him to think. After a long pause, the Herald finally spoke.
“She is not hard to locate with spiritual perception, so we found her weeks ago, but I instructed my Emissaries not to approach.”
Red Faith’s jaw slowly dropped. He wasn’t sure which would win in the confrontation between his astonishment and his rage.
“I knew it,” he whispered. “You sabotage our efforts.”
Redmoon spat a bit of fingernail onto the floor. “If you believe you are the mind in our relationship, then it should not trouble you so much to think. What will Yerin Arelius do if we approach, or anyone approaches her on our behalf?”
She would inevitably not cooperate, and with the Moonlight Bridge, it would be difficult to find her once she fled. Especially for the Herald, who could not follow through space as Red Faith could.
Though, granted, it would be complex to track her even for him.
“You would let shadows of possibility stop you from attempting to attain ultimate power?”
“We could kidnap Lindon Arelius or Eithan Arelius and hold them hostage in exchange for her cooperation. I suppose that is what you would do, short-sighted as you are.”
Red Faith’s entire frustration came from the fact that he couldn’t simply threaten a hostage and force Yerin to obey. He needed her to work with him willingly; it would be too easy for her to deceive or harm him otherwise, unless she was positively wrapped in soul oaths.
Even that was not a viable option. He intended to fuel her advancement as part of his experiments. Who would freely sharpen a weapon that could turn on its user’s throat?
“That you think my view is so narrow only proves that your own vision is lacking,” Red Faith said. “She is one who hated her Blood Shadow, hated us, hated the Phoenix, but who carefully cultivated a clone Shadow because she recognized its potential for power. She will be persuaded by the promise of more, but only if we find her and make that promise!”
Identical scowls clashed as Sage and Herald glared at one another from opposite sides of the hall.
Both of them calmed down and thought for a moment of silence. Red Faith thought about the situation. He considered Yerin’s perspective, and how he thought they should act.
He considered what Redmoon would say to that, and examined his arguments. He presented some of his own. All in his head.
Across the hall, his clone did the same.
When they were both finished, Redmoon spoke. “She will return to the Valley when we begin.”
“So we will follow Shen’s instructions,” Red Faith agreed.
“For now.”
Unwittingly, the Monarch had positioned them exactly where they needed to be. For they were instructed to return south, soon. To Sacred Valley.
Where they would inevitably find Yerin Arelius.
Red Faith nodded. “We will have leverage on her then. She will join us with gratitude, and it will be in her own best interests to support the research. Very well. We will wait.”
“As I said all along.”
Red Faith snorted, but allowed the Herald his hollow victory. At least they were unified now.
As they should have been all along.
7
It was Cassias’ habit to stroll the streets of the city every night after dinner. It was a pleasant way to cycle, helped him to get a sense for the city, and reassured his employees—who often started their work when the sun went down—that he was around and watching.
And, of course, Eithan had done this back when he was in charge.
He had very often shirked his normal responsibilities, but whenever he had been in the city, he had walked its length and breadth. He intervened in problems, no matter how minor, and made sure the Arelius presence was felt.
Cassias didn’t have Eithan’s talent in using their bloodline legacy, but he was still an Arelius. He saw more than anyone else could.
So he stepped aside gracefully as Eithan plummeted from a rooftop above him.
The Archlord landed gently, as though he’d merely stepped off a stoop, but he still clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“Were you trying to land on me?” Cassias asked.
“I was going to land on your shoulders. Then I was going to make a joke about how it was your turn to hold me up, but now it’s dead.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good joke.”
“Well, the moment’s gone, isn’t it? You ruined it.”
Despite his words, the smile on Eithan’s face looked more genuine than usual. He took a deep breath of the cool night air as he spread sapphire sleeves wide.
“You ever have a night when you’re just glad you don’t have to fight to the death?” Eithan asked.
“Yes. Every night.”
“Every night? Really? What do you do if you’re not fighting for your life?”
“Literally anything else.”
“Huh. Well, sometimes even I prefer not to have the pressure of the world on my shoulders.” Eithan looked at Cassias’ shoulders and sighed in regret, no doubt thinking of the missed opportunity for his joke.
Cassias glimpsed something in the strands of power constantly radiated by his bloodline, and looked off to his left. Two streets over, someone was creeping along an alleyway outside a restaurant. A quick scan showed that their spirit was veiled. A robber?
They were walking away from the restaurant, but there were houses that way. Cassias was about to leap over the house and confront the sneaking man when Eithan manifested a ball of madra between his fingers. A tiny Striker technique.