Shadow of the Abyss

When Atelia, Medusa, and Noctis had left to be entertained elsewhere, Altair turned an eye to Atticus Ingleblade. He hadn't expected this man at all. It seemed almost comical for the man to still be chasing him. Yet would the thrum of the Weave lie to him?

He had seen the man's entire plan in but a single handshake and almost couldn't keep himself from smiling. It was as if Atticus had told him his every plan for him. Who he suspected he was and why. A full year from before the time their blades crossed to now became something of a fragment in his mind, a slate that held everything about the man.

From techniques to acquaintances and networks the Upper Moons held within their organization to even what he had done to his body. That last bit was what intrigued him most.

"Lord Symar, what would you say about us taking little Noct away." The old Duke and the Duchess frowned, looking at him peculiarly. They had the sense not to lash out, but that isn't why they came to see Noctis.

"He's only been with us for nearly three months," Lord Symar said with an unreadable expression. He sounded surprised, though it faded by the time he finished his sentence. "Is there a particular reason why?"

"Yes," was all Altair wanted to say on the matter. For all Symar's power, he was not loyal to any one faction. He was his own man who did whatever pleased him, or so the stories told. Honorable but dangerous. Altair did not think there was any benefit to telling the man more than he didn't half to know.

Symar was no ally of his, and he couldn't quite trust the old Duke might not let something slip. They appeared to be old friends.

"Young Master, I will certainly need more than that. Nox is four and ready to be five by next month. He is at the age that requires him to be structured and disciplined. I can't, in good faith, simply hand him back to you if you don't have a better reason. Not unless the Dutchess commands it.

From the look the Dutchess had, she certainly would not let him have his way. The woman had a fierce look in her eye, ready to squash any sort of man that stepped in the path of her son. Even Symar himself, if he dared. She was certainly brave enough.

Atticus was no different, aside from using Noctis as bait to lure him out. He had wanted to recommend him to the upper moon, to his House of Shadows, if the boy survived.

Feigning a sigh, he said," The Shadow Tower. Ever heard of it?" their silent eyes met him verbatim. "They are after my head, and I've spotted several already—"

"Is that it?" Symar demanded. He sounded annoyed. "I thought there was true danger. Not the mindless rambles of a child. G—

"Have you stood at the peak for so long, Lord Symar?" This time, Altair did not keep his tone reserved but spoke in a lecturing tone of how he might have reprimanded one of his servants. "I've seen and felt the Wardings that line this place. There are fine wardings, but I've already counted five from the Shadow Tower walking school grounds.

And even if that wasn't the case, can you be so certain that you can protect one child over another?"

Symar veered to his full height like a viper. He was not very tall, yet he appeared to tower over everyone present. "You understand what you said?

Tasha's eyes were cold, her palm on Gram, but she did not move. To that, he was grateful. If a fight broke out, then there would be no winners. Still, her slight motion to Gram carried Symar scorn. He did not so much as glance at her yet; Altair knew her every motion was within his perception.

Corrsant and the Old Duke were expressionless. Waiting. Waiting for him to continue.

For a while, no one spoke until Atticus said, "Might I inquire what makes you suspect these individuals were from this… Shadow Tower?"

"You might inquire," Altair said, though he would not explain himself. He had no responsibility to explain himself. He only gave Symar his time of day for the power he commanded. And Atticus was no Symar.

Back to Symar, he continued. "As I was saying. I very much understand what I am saying and doing. So I will be taking my younger brother. If my Mother and Grandfather are not convinced, then I'd like to point out that it's not just them but a certain family that could be after me. Are you willing to hand Noctis out to try if that brain-dead son of hers attacked?'

It was the Dutchess who understood first. Even without him directly pointing out whom he was speaking of. The Ironbloods. Symar might be a hero, but even he was small by the standards of the Ironbloods.

She had sent Noctis away before they had gotten word that Altair had met with the Queen Dowager. It was a sudden thing, and if Corsant had known, she might not have hidden Noctis away, or so he believed. The Queen Dowager was a grim woman. He did not put it past her to send the command to have Noctis killed, thinking that was what he wanted, to appease him in some way or out of anger.

Their parting hadn't been a good one, but neither could he say it was a bad one.

"He is right," Corsant said sourly. And for the first time, she sounded reluctant.

'It's not that easy to get away from me,' he thought, amused by her thought of him wanting Noctis's life. It seemed silly. The boy meant little to him, but if Corsant wanted to believe her imagination, he would not stop her. There was power in fear but dread towards the unknown.

Symar glowered only for a moment. "Then I'll say nothing more on the matter. Edgar, a drink before you go?"

"Of course, can you all give us a moment?" The old Duke asked. It was phrased as a question and yet wasn't. They would leave.

Altair hid his hesitation and nodded. He did not send a Soul Whisper to warn the old fool. Despite how far he had come, he was only a fifth Circle. A soul Whipser would be sensed and perhaps even understood. There were simply too many things he had learned from the thrum of the Weave. If anyone knew half as much as he did, they'd understand that nothing is secret for long.

They left, albeit some reluctantly. Atticus looked as if he was about to burst. When they were outside, he all but glared.

"You are making a mistake! Noctis could be one of the greatest geniuses of his time." It was Raven's icy glare that forced him two steps back. If he hadn't, she might have run him through with her glaive. Her gaze could make a dragon kneel, say less for Atticus. Where did she learn that?

"My mistakes are mine to make," Altair told him flatly. "You've no say in the matter."

"Of course I do! It was through my guidance that he obtained enlightenment. Even if you manage to find him another teacher, it would do no good. The trust he has in me is—"

"Something that pails in comparison to me. I am quite a master when it comes to Darkness. He will learn from me. Now then, if you'll excuse me. I must be going. Raven, can you lead us to the children?"

She nodded, though her eyes never left Atticus. She was taking in his everything, poised to strike if he so much as made a wrong move. He didn't. Lucky for him.

Symar was not in his plan; if not, he might have killed Atticus and made him his Forsaken. A good general the man would make. Sadly, it wasn't yet time.

"Now, Raven." He said, and the woman whirled, the sigil of the black moon emblazoned over the back of her surcoat catching rays of sunlight. She led them away opposite of Atticus to the garden where three Forsaken stood guard.

The children were making laurels out of flowers with a dozen or so kids, playing with each other. It seemed like a free period or something along those lines, for there was no adult but Medusa.

Raven looked like she wanted to cry, that he had to force the girl to go have fun. She refused, but after he told her he'd spanked her, she just about jumped for joy, returning to her old self for a few hours for whatever time the old Duke spent with Symar.

Each of the women made him a laurel, but it was Raven's he wore, laughing alongside the Dutchess with Noctis. Atelia glowered at him, suddenly standing up; she pointed at Raven.

"Big sis! Atelia will defeat you one day. Then Papa will wear what I make him."

That only made everyone laugh louder. Children were too precious sometimes.