Shadow of the Abyss

It had taken considerably longer for Elgar to finish his drinks with Symar than Altair would have liked. The Valeguard he had sent to purchase gifts had all but found him there, arms struggling to hold everything they'd bought—they claimed was only a tenth of what had been left behind by the carriage.

It mattered little to Altair, sharing a bit of his sweets and candies with the children before they were carted off for their next lesson. He almost wanted to laugh at how teary-eyed they seemed.

"It's about time, you old fool," The Dutchess said, rising to her feet. Even from a mile away, they could tell how uneasily the Old Duke swayed. Transcendent or not, if one wanted to get drunk, all that was necessary was willing their body to metabolize the necessary toxins alcohol had. It took practice, but Elgar was a Transcendent and well over a thousand years old.

Noctis rose aside his mother when Elgar had taken him into his arms. Chuckling when the boy pulled at his long, greying mustache.

They did not leave then, talking a bit amongst each other. In a way, they appeared to be a family every bit, though Altair's heart was ice. He would not allow such pleasantry to dull his judgment. Not now. Not with so many after his neck. If need be, he had to be ready to cut his losses with House Nier.

Even a few forsaken were not exempted.

He needed to thin the litter. The few that he'd named his Pale Knights would remain, but the others needed to be replaced. The weak needed to be culled both from his Forsakens and Ravens.

The knot inside his mind lessened at the sudden epiphany of what needed to be done. It was the first time in months that he had not thought of his eternal battle with the Vale King. Even when he did blink, awakening to the world a defeated man, it bothered him far less looking out at his people laughing amongst each other.

It suddenly dawned on him that it had been too long since he had last been to Terra. The land he had usurped beneath another rule. It was a bit difficult to get a grasp on how much the people there hated him. Most of the denizens of Earth, while in far better constraints than before, had begun petitions for a republic-style democracy. At least, according to Aurora.

It was a small fraction, collecting quite a bit of traction in the past few months.

It hadn't even been a year since he had taken over, but Terra, formally Earth, had faded away into something distant. Humans were no longer the prominent race. There were simply too many races now. All of which were pining for his grace. The gods were keeping their cool watch, but only until he became transcendent when they would offer him a firm hand. That had been the simple truth of the matter.

Even Athena, in his opinion, might have been the same if not for her willpower becoming shattered beneath the presence of his Father and Uncle. The woman was smart enough to no longer act against him. At least not without someone of equal power to Arsene and Zariel Snow.

"Master…" It was Tasha who called to him. And he realized he was rambling to himself.

"What is it?" He asked, perhaps too sharply. The Lilm shuddered.

"Killing intent. And it's approaching fast." The thrumb of the Weave said her words were true. That startled him. Was her senses that much sharper than his? He could scarcely believe it. Not with how much more sensitive his senses had become.

It had to be a trick. Or he wasn't as sensitive as he thought. He scuffed at the latter.

Raven did not so much as act but stared at the approaching… man. A professor, based on the dark black robes, stomping forward with burning red eyes.

One look was all it took for Altair to realize who this man was. Keiran. The man who felled to Syris's blade. How could he still walk? It seemed like a mystery except for the elixir he had been given. Even so, he wondered how much of the man was still… normal.

Two Forsakened stopped him with two Vale wrought glaives poised at his chest.

"It's you!" Keiran said, growling. A look of stark surprise flashed across his face that even when pushed, neither of the two forsaken moved. "I know it's you!"

Altair smiled, "Are you a fan? I can't say I know your name. But I'm in a good mood. Do you want an autograph? Let him through. Medusa, get me a pen and paper."

"I don't want your fucking autograph!" Keiran snapped.

"Who is this fool?" The Dutchess demanded. "Get him out my sight. I—"

"Piss off, you stupid old bitch! Altair! I—" Keiran did not see the slap that might have taken his head off if the Dutchess had demanded it. Nevertheless, he bore through the surrounding stone walls, skimming across the earth like a rock on water.

"Go capture him," Altair commanded to two of his Valeguards. "Cut off his legs if he resists." They bowed, bounding forward with the grace of a dancer, death racing to follow.

Whirling to face the Dutchess staring, he nearly threw up his hand to show his innocence. That would have been foolish. The Dutchess liked things formal. Especially when angry. Instead, he sighed, and Tasha handed him a handkerchief, which he handed to Corsant.

"To wipe away the filth. I do say, Mother. You have quite the temper. How could you let the rambles of a commoner push you to anger."

There were questions on her tongue; he could see that all but plainly, yet she held it at bay. It wasn't quite yet time to inquire about such things. Not in the open.

"I am the dutchess," was all she said, yet it spoke volumes.

Altair couldn't speak much on what type of position Keiran held, but it was surely below that of a dutchess. And the language he used was more than enough to warrant his death. Any magistrate would see to that. Worse, Symar would see it. Whatever Keiran thought he was doing was no different than courting death, throwing insult at royalty as such.

"A feisty one that one was," The Old Duke said. "Brave, though foolish. Are you going to kill him?"

"I'll send for Symar to decide. Perhaps I'll make him my pet. He seems to hate me; he called me… Altair" —His name sounded strange on his tongue— "Well, it matters not. I could use him."

Through the rubble, as students and professor hurried forward, the three forsaken returned, carrying Keiran by his feet, a shrieking of blood following behind. They tossed him beneath his feet. There was nothing to say for his face; it was now a red ruin. It hardly seemed human.

'Fool.' Altair thought, catching sight of Atticus in the distance. His face contorted into a hideous grimace. He was lucky he was dealing with Altair rather then the Vale King. If it were the latter, he might have strung Keiran up for all to see and slowly dispatched into small pieces. A statement to all his enemies.

The thought skimmed across his mind like a torrent. It wasn't a bad idea, but it would do more than bring unnecessary fear to people he cared little for.

"I shall speak to Symar…" The Old Duke said sullenly. He handed Noct to his Mother and stalked off with an air of exhaustion.

No sooner than he was gone did Altair signal to his Valeguard that he was to leave. The dutchess followed with a hard look. He had a plan, though Symar had ruined some of it. That didn't matter now. Once they were on the road, once more, he'd be ready for the Shadow Tower and Atticus and his little schemes he thought were hidden.

Eyes marking a few shadows along the way back to his carriage, he grinned.

Exchanging glances with Raven, understanding flashed across their eyes as they returned to their respective carriages.

"Well?" The Dutchess said in that haunty voice of hers that would broker no peace between them until she learned everything. "What was the meaning behind taking my Noct out of school."

Realizing Noctis was asleep. A sleeping spell. He sighed, looking at the woman, before sharing an alternate story about Atticus. Nothing about the House of Shadows or House of Flames in the Upper Moons. Some things were best kept secret. Instead, he spoke only about Atticus and his plan to use Noct to trap him.

"As you could see with that fool…" he glanced at the unconscious Keiran beneath his boot on the carriage floor. "He seems to be a part of it. The man seemed to have thought I was someone else, but it—"

"Are you this… Altair?"

Altair studied the woman but did not answer her question, nor did she bother to repeat herself. It didn't matter. House Nier was caught up with Devils and Demons. Royal Devils. Whatever they claimed, they were bound to him now. They had to play the game.