The Reforged Saga - Prologue: Great Expectations IC [M]
This RP is rated M for possible violence, racism, sexual themes, strong language, substance use, and difficult moral decisions, among other things. It should be noted that many of the characters may be under the age of eighteen. This RP may include themes such as coming-of-age, questions of religion, and the true meaning of freedom. As such, if players feel that they cannot handle such material, it is best for them to steer clear of this RP.
Link to OOC. We are always accepting.
The quiet tread of Jass’ vat boots echoed off the smooth stone walls of the Grand Academy as he led the fyora through the maze of hallways. Bleak grey, the walls rose seamlessly from the floor as one great piece, rising twice the height of men until they met at a gentle curve. Great windows of clear glass let in light on the surface while green crystals placed along the hall glowed with tan light as he drew near them, snuffing themselves when he had passed. Everywhere turrets sat in stone alcoves, their thorn projectors held at the ready to repel unwanted intruders.
A gentle, almost imperceptible slope in the floor lowered Jass into the bowels of the Academy. Here the windows vanished and the turret alcoves grew in number, their occupants becoming more deadly and in much greater variation. The Shaper Doors became reversed, their great stone pieces made to rise into the ceiling rather than slide beneath the earth. The silent stone of the hallways seemed to swallow the sounds of his footsteps and make the air chill like a tomb. No secrets, Shaper or otherwise, traveled far here.
Eventually Jass came to one of the doors, its surface inlaid with runes. Where others would be blocked, he passed through without contest. Beyond lay a spartan room. The walls were unadorned and the only furniture was a small wooden cabinet. Turrets lined the walls and clustered around another door which sat in the middle of the room. Circling it, Jass found a twin on the other side and another door out. The twin rose up to reveal Mind Herrol.
The Servant Mind was awake, as all of its kind would be at this hour. Not for the first time, Jass wondered what it would be like to have such intelligence as the creature before it, but no free will of its own. He dismissed the thought. Giving a creation like this free will would be an abomination against Shaper Law and as even this one was aware, absolute loyalty to the Shapers was paramount.
“Greetings Shaper.” said Mind Herrol, its almost human skull looking disturbing attached to its pot belly pig body, “My internal clock indicates that it is early morning. Do you require something from me?”
As he prepared his reply, Jass reflected how Shaper training changed a person in ways that outsiders and creations seemed to recognize as well as Shapers. The graduate student might not have been a Shaper, but Mind Herrol was obviously aware that was where he was headed. Or perhaps someone had told him. In any case, if the Mind believed as much, then any command Jass gave it would obey.
“I need to access the Archive.” Jass replied.
“A moment, Shaper.” returned the creature. Its human-like eyelids closed and for a moment it appeared to go into the dormancy that could preserve it here in its tray for centuries. An elder example of its kind, Mind Herrol had certainly displayed this ability before and still retained the knowledge and powers it needed to serve its role as passage guardian, knowledge store, and advisor to Shapers. Its eyes moved rapidly under the skin lids and finally opened, “It is done, Shaper. Is there anything else you require?”
Jass shook his head and turned as the stone door slid open. He stepped into the Grand Archive.
Pausing for a moment, Jass looked around. The Grand Archive was a collection of rolled scrolls, bound tomes, and sealed knowledge crystals lay upon rows and rows of shelves that stretched from the floor to the flat ceiling above. Made up of an untold number of rooms just like this one scattered throughout the Academy, the Archive was the greatest repository of knowledge in the Known World.
Striding among the pristine shelves, Jass read the labels in passing, reflecting that the danger here had always seemed to warrant greater protection than what it had. Then again, though there was much even here in one of the auxiliary repositories, there was very little overall. He had not seen all the rooms, but he knew that there was likely not to be much. Shapers were nothing if not jealous of their knowledge and so they rarely wrote things down where outsiders might find them. Many of the other rooms were filled not with direct knowledge, but with weapons and armor and odds and ends gathered such as to make the Archive appear more of a trophy collection than a knowledge storehouse. They contained more examples of knowledge than guides to it. This room was an exception more than the norm and that is why Jass knew he would find him here.
Picking his way through the shelves, Jass came upon who he sought. The small fyora padded up behind him and clung to his leg as it peeked around to see what he had stopped for. Seated at one of the study tables was a Shaper. This man was not a Shaper as outsiders or the Mind would recognize, but a true Shaper, one who had been anointed by the Council and accepted into the sect of the same name. Even though the robes of his Order covered much of his being, the back marked with the symbol of the Shapers, Jass could see the man’s youth. He could also see that the man was very much aware of the arrival of the graduate and the anger that went beyond simple annoyance of being interrupted.
“You need something, graduate?” said the man. His voice was still marked by the smooth tones of a young man himself, but there was a bit of a forced roughness, as one might do to appear older than they were. “Or are you just here to admire?”
Jass bristled at this. Something about the man always irritated Jass and no more so than now. Still, he remembered his courtesies with an effort and replied, “I was hoping to seek your council, Councilman Praco. I am in need of assistance.”
“Oh? Is that so?” returned Praco, a slight sneer in his voice as he turned away from his book to face Jass from his chair. The younger man could only see the dull gleam of reflected light from under the robe hood and the light skin of the man’s chin where a dull brown stubble grew. “And what might you require that you would need me to do? I have heard no explosions, so surely if you are as capable as they say, you should be able to figure it out for yourself.”
Staring furiously at the man, Jass fought to keep his temper in check. Ignoring the dismissal evident in the comment, Jass gestured to the fyora that clung to his feet. “I found this creation wandering the hallways. It has the look of your work to it.”
Praco affected a false yawn, raising a hand to cover his mouth. “What of it? I have many creations patrolling the Academy.” He looked at the fyora, then back at Jass. “Did you think to bother me over something as trivial as a patrol?”
“If it was not so clearly not being guided, then I might not have,” replied Jass dryly. That brought a sharp intake of breath from Praco and when the Shaper spoke, his voice was laced with menace. “Are you implying that I had let a creation loose to do as it pleased?” He rose to his feet. The man only stood slightly taller than Jass, but the graduate was quite certain that he would overtake the Council member in time. “You dare?” demanded Praco, his voice rising.
Before Jass could reply, a voice came from nearby, “Is there a problem, sirs?” The two turned to see a veritable giant standing about the shelves. Even dressed in a simple cloth jerkin emblazoned with the symbol of the Shapers, Councilman Quartis was an imposing figure. The towering Guardian was a fine example of his sect. Though he carried drooping white whiskers there was slight sag to the taunt skin of his face, Quartis was still far younger in appearance than his real age would give to normal men. The Master of Creations was well respected for his mastery in managing all the creatures made by the Shapers of the Academy.
Walking up to the confrontation, Quartis simultaneously seemed to be genuinely interested in what was happening and quietly warning for the two to cease their bickering. Being known for a calm, patient demeanor did not stop him from being as authoritative as Jass’ father. He looked from Jass’ face to Praco’s and back for a moment. Then, ever the gentle giant, he knelt down and gestured to the fyora. The creation looked up to Jass for a moment, but the graduate student waved it on and it went to be petted by a hand like a spade. The Guardian stood a moment later and said to Praco, “Aren’t your classes about to begin, Councilman? I should think that the students will be sorely missing you if you stayed among these musty shelves. Best be off.”
Praco said nothing for a moment, his face still hidden in the shadow of his hood. To Jass’ eyes, even as the Shaper betrayed nothing, he was clearly weighing his options: stay and argue it out or take his leave and save some dignity. He chose the latter and the other two watched as he quietly replaced the book he had been studying and left without a word.
Jass nodded respectfully to Quartis, but could not help throwing a look of distaste at Praco’s retreating back. The young Councilman’s back seemed to tense when he did, as if he could feel the graduate’s piercing gaze, but he did not turn. An uncertain chitter from the fyora brought Jass’ eyes to it. It may not have understood exactly what had occurred, but it was aware of something unpleasant occurring. Looking at it, Jass figured that it might think of what was happening like a mortal might watch the gods of the feral tribes fighting; it was best to be away under those circumstances.
Quartis caught Jass’ eye and shook his head, a faint, amused smile on his features. He set off down another of the pristine aisles between the bookshelves. The fyora only paused for a moment to look back at Jass before following.
His task done, Jass made his way out of the archive, weaving his way back through the high shelves, stately reading pedestals, and low study tables. His path quickly returned him to the great stone hallway, though neither of the Councilmen were to be seen. That was not surprising, as there was a great deal of ways through the hallways. Making his way back to the surface would be a long and laborious process without the presence of the fyora on his mind, but it would give him time to reflect on what had happened.
On the whole Jass considered himself to be a relatively reasonable individual who did not go looking for fights most of the time. Many a time when he stood aside when challenged, opting for discretion over pointless conflict. True, he was a stickler for the rule of Shaper Law and did not long tolerate any violations and that earned him few friends, but most of his class considered him level-headed and reasonable. The peculiar assertiveness that existed in those who graduated that was so much admired was absent in him, replaced instead by a quiet respect for knowing what he was about.
However, all of that seemed to go out the window whenever he was confronted with anything to do with Praco. No matter how civil Jass attempted to be with the junior Councilman, they always seemed to end up in arguments that, to both their embarrassment, other Shapers ended up having to solve before they got into a brawl. At least that is what most tried. Quartis and Uthain had the most success where others constantly teetered on inflaming the problem.
Of course, Jass’ father was the whole problem in the first place. The Head Council member had been unabashedly honest in admitting why Praco disliked Jass. In short, the young Shaper had been Uthain’s shadow son and protégé until Jass had been born. Praco had been forced to watch as Uthain turned his attention to his true son, leaving his would-be heir-apparent behind. It bred a certain amount of resentment and that showed in Praco.
The problem was that it didn’t explain why Jass was disagreeable on his end. The merchants’ son was, after all, a Councilman. Whether or not he was the youngest, Jass should be less inclined to show his anger towards the Shaper and bury is pride under the training that taught respect when not a Shaper and equal treatment when you were. It should have never got to the point where the rest of the Council was well aware of their animosity.
Pausing at a crossroads before continuing, Jass turned that over in his mind. In truth, he knew that he was not the only student who was less than hesitant to dismiss the Councilmember. Jass was just notable for being the only one brave or stupid enough to challenge the Shaper directly instead of behind his back.
So engrossed on his deliberations about the nature of Praco’s existence was Jass that he didn’t realize that he was being watched until a teasing voice said, “And a good morning to you, little one.”
Jass looked up and blinked, noticing two things. First, he was now on the surface and nearing the entrance. In fact, he was in the entrance hall already, the mighty stone architecture surrounding him. This surprised him, as it was a long way from the Archive to get here. He hadn’t even noticed the journey. Second, he was no longer alone. Shaper Yantan stood next to the opened front doors, the light coming down in long ribbons from the nearby windows.
Standing there in the light, Jass could see plainly why so many students, both graduate and otherwise, whispered behind the Councilwoman’s back. As Shaper Ulrika demonstrated, long life and vitality did not diminish for the Shapers as quickly as it did for outsiders. Even so, in her mid-thirties Yantan was a model of health and sensuality. Luscious black hair flowed down from her crown on either sides of a rounded face tanned and tightened by the hours of difficult training. Full red lips protruded above a single, sharp chin and below a gently curved nose. Her entire body was a mass of voluptuous curves made all the more prominent from the rigorous regiments of the Agents. Even the most jealous female students had to admit her allure.
Yet Jass had not been born yesterday. Or at least Uthain had taught him at least one thing about learning the character of men – and women. Though it was an effort for anyone to look up from her curves, he sought out the thing that would tell him the most about this woman. His sky blue eyes found hers and he saw there a cunning intelligence with a depth of knowledge totally at odds with her tender decade and a half on him. They showed the same calm, calculating mind desired so much in Shapers and perhaps somewhere in there he saw the planted seeds of long twilight years of wisdom. It was an awe-inspiring and terrifying sight at the same time, enough for someone on his path to wonder whether they would ever hold a candle to such a one.
As that thought occurred to Jass, another occurred to him: Why was he so intimidated at this moment? Yantan looked at him from where she stood, a suggestive smile curving her lips, delight in her eyes. The young graduate student fought the urge to shake his head. He was stronger than that, he knew. Walls closed around his mind, shutting out everything until just one thing remained. The smile on Yantan’s face split wider. She walked up to him and cupped his chin with fingers calloused from long hours of swordsmanship as she looked into his eyes.
“It is a bit early to be contemplating the nature of the universe, young Shaper.” She wrapped a hand around her junior and continued, “Come, tell me what you have been thinking of.”
For a moment Jass was stunned, his head swimming with the shadows that had lurked in the corners of his mind. Some said that Yantan would have been much better off being an Agent than a Shaper, no matter what her Shaper’s robe said. Certainly she was one of the best spellcasters in the Known World, rivalling and possibly even exceeding Ulrika. The Councilwoman had taken all the courses rumored to be required for the class after all, and maintained her figure through them much better than some aspirants. In spite of this, Yantan maintained that she preferred the “rooted” life of a Shaper to the constant movement of an Agent. Many said that keeping her solutions boiling was not all that made her prefer a position at the Academy.
Collecting his wits, Jass tried unsuccessfully to keep his voice steady as he replied, “No universe contemplations for me, Councilwoman Yantan; just contemplating the nature of Councilman Praco.” Her laugh drowned out his wonder at his use of the junior Council member’s title. She slapped him hard on the arm and said, “Please, Yantan, Jass, I insist. And it does sound like you have chosen a more difficult topic.” Steering him before her towards the door, she said, “Come, some things are not good to be contemplated in the dark. Let us see what Issei has to offer.” She moved her head near to his so that he could swear that he could feel his cheek fuzz moved by her breath. “And let us see what I can offer you.”
With a great will, Jass banished visions of what that might mean as she pushed him down the steps of the Grand Academy, making for the front gate. As the stepped out into the rising light he momentarily raised a hand to his face to block out the light that threatened to blind him after long hours of indoors travel. Eventually his vision settled and he looked around.
Outside, the grand architecture of the Academy rose to meet them, silhouetted against the waxing light of the sun. Some said that it was much larger underground than it was on the surface, a claim that many students, Jass included, had spent a great deal of time trying to verify. Nobody had managed to do so yet. Certainly there always seemed to be builder serviles around hauling what could only be construction materials, though nobody he had ever spoken to confirmed seeing excavation sites within. If the claim was true, the exterior of the campus made the subterranean sections something to stagger the mind.
Like the indoor sections, the Academy’s exterior was a mass of solid stone that might have been carved from a single piece of stone. Indeed, some claimed that Shaper magic had been used to do just that, sometime in the distant past, molding a lone mountain into the Grand Academy and the Citadel of Issei. Jass doubted this, as the scale of power that would be necessary simply never occurred on the record; aside from the Shattering, of course. In any case, the ground between the Academy and the Citadel had wetland.
Even at this early hour there was a great deal of activity in the yards. Most of the students were still abed if they had not risen for early classes. Yet out in the yards Agent aspirants ran a series of rigorous exercises under the watchful eye of Councilwoman Ulrika and Agent Irane. Both were as shapely as Yantan, but there was less murmuring about their figures, for their faces were often carved war masks for all the sympathy they showed to the struggling aspirants. Jass had heard that they alternated days of easy work and hard labor during the training process in order to lure keep the students on their toes. Already one had collapsed and was being carried from the fields.
Nearby Guardian Yuthan was running the melee exercise. The clamber of steel and shouts were deafening when the students clashed. Jass saw some let loose truly savage blows, some moving so fast as to seem a blur. He winced inwardly as he saw one strike put a student onto the ground. Having been on the end of attacks like that, he did not envy the aspirant. Still, he was not concerned. Full Shapers could have reflexes much greater than that, meaning that nobody was in true danger so long as Yuthan was present, no matter how close to death they came.
Yantan pushed him along past the training fields to the creation stables. Here the formidable guardians of the Academy stood, sat, and curled in their own stalls or in groups. Grim-faced outsider guards were already patrolling the cells, watching over the serviles bringing the morning repasts and checking for rogue creations. The latter was unlikely given the large number of Shapers, but the Council never took chances. A patrol consisting of a vlish and a pack of fyora passed on their way in, their rounds complete. Even their power seemed small in comparison to the battle alphas and glaahks.
Past the walls of the Academy the pair stepped out onto the road that led to Issei. The Last Road, it was called. A long strip of stone road connected the school to the city. Walking along it, Jass noted that the stone was no longer one piece, but rather regularly segmented slabs. To either side the ground became wet earth covered in beaten grass. Farther out than that, it returned to the swamplands of Machit.
“So what have you been thinking of Praco lately, dear?” asked Yantan. Jass fairly jumped. Part of him had forgotten the company he kept. He didn’t now. The beautiful Councilwoman gazed down at him, that slight smile on her face. He remembered what she had said, but his training rebelled against it. So he settled with, “He seems distracted.” For a moment he considered that he shouldn’t say more, but he told the story anyways.
“Hmm,” she considered, “so it would seem that he has found a comfortable book to put his head down on.” She laughed and Jass felt a bit foolish for saying anything more. Yantan was well known for being one of the less strict Councilmembers. While she wouldn’t let things go when they came to her attention, seeking out problems to solve was not her way. As her mirth subsided she said, “He hasn’t changed a bit from our undergraduate days.”
Jass had nothing to say to that. It was not unusual for outsiders to presume that the Shapers were an utterly unified force. They were, but only on the face. Beneath it all there were factions and of the past years since the Academy was founded one of the most powerful was loyalty to those in their graduating year. Yantan had it, clearly. Praco though, he was not so sure. What was certain was that Praco wouldn’t have been a Councilman if not for Jass’ father, though nobody would say it to the Head Councilman’s face. By the same token, Yantan would never have become Councilwoman without Praco rising so far.
They traveled in silence then, both lost in their own thoughts, though judging by the appraising looks that the woman gave Jass, they were not thinking about the same thing. At last they arrived at one of the iron portcullis gatehouses that led the way into Issei. Like the walls of the Academy, these were well armed and protected with turrets, creations, and outsider guards.
As they stepped into the walled city of Issei, Jass could not help but glance up at the Citadel. He shivered. The great shadow of the structure stretched long in the early hours, enveloping entire blocks in darkness. Seemingly carved from the same stone as the Academy, the Citadel was precious less formidable and no less a symbol of Shaper power. In fact, one could argue that it was more so. Though both were strongly built in a utilitarian fashion, their functions were staggeringly different. The Academy was a place of learning and enlightenment. It was dangerous, to be sure, as much so to those inside as those without, yet it was a place of promise and dreams. The Citadel was a place of menace. It projected all the strength of the Shapers and their craft with none of the humility that something like a pair of vat gloves showed. The Citadel was meant to make the Shapers feared and it did that well.
Even so, in the shadow of the Citadel grew the greatest city in the Known World, perhaps greater than any city ever ruled by the Shapers. Issei was the first of its kind, a new generation of cities built by the magic of the Shapers and the hands of serviles. It echoed the old glories of the Shapers with its wide stone streets bustling with people among its stoutly built structures. As Jass and Yantan strode into its streets, the air became filled with the smells of a human city managed by Shapers and the frightful din that only humans could make.
Slowing her pace, Yantan threw an arm around Jass’ shoulders that made him jump. She at him, revealing pearly teeth, as she drew him closer to her robed person. A moment later the reason became clear. They were in the third tier now. They had passed through the second quickly, the defenses stout, but overshadowed – literally in some cases – by the grandeur of the Citadel. The first tier did not exist between the Academy and Issei; it was too dangerous.
Now they were surrounded by inns, taverns, and pleasure houses. Such was the way of the rude quarters, as they were called by some of the more stiff citizens of the city. Of course, those were usually the ones who could afford to hold their business elsewhere.
As he walked down the road, Jass kept an eye on the people. They came from all over the Known World. Some were wide-eyed children on their first time in the city. Others were grizzled caravan guards who protected merchants on their way to places less patrolled by Shaper creations. Creation patrols lumbered through the streets, space being made for their passage by all but the most drunk of residents who had not the wits to move out of the way. Street women called their services to him from the fronts of seedy establishments, making him fight to keep his face from coloring while Yantan smiled at his discomfort.
There were even students here, though Jass knew that none of them were declared Shaper aspirants as he was. They walked slightly bow-legged where they were not drunk. The Shapers prided themselves on appearing perfect to outsiders at all time; if these unfortunates ever thought to become one, they might as well pray that the gods make everyone forget their faces; else the Shapers would turn them away. It was part of the reason that few aspirants could be found here at night and even fewer in the morning. Sharing a mug was all well and good, but it came with its share of dangers and consequences.
The Shaper Councilwoman drew him to the side of the road, still smiling that amused smile and said, “Have you broke your fast this day?” A glimmer of amusement added to that which already existed at her words. It seemed she found nothing that was not amusing. He had already told his story though and knew that it would only amuse her more to say it, so he just shook his head. Her smile seemed to widen, her eyes twinkling. “Ok, then I know a good place for fish stew.” Before he could say anything, she drew him off again.
As it turned out, the establishment she spoke of was exactly where people would not expect to find a Councilwoman and a Shaper aspirant, especially at such an early hour. Yet he was not surprised that the seedy-looking establishment, with its unwashed windows and musty interior, was exactly where she had intended to take him. The timber roof was almost certainly out of regulations and the door was held by rusted hinges badly in need of changing. If not for the wide grin that the balding owner gave Yantan when they stepped inside, Jass might have been surprised that he was not sweating thorns with so much Shaper authority coming through his rotting door.
In truth none of this surprised him. Machit was swamplands. Ordinarily they would not be habitable, not on the scale that Issei allowed. The constantly damp air of the marshes made lungs breeding places for all kinds of illnesses while the plants were generally poisonous in one way or another. Even if rogues did not wander the spans between settlements there were already a thousand ways for a man to die. The moisture bred rot in any wood and rusted metal. If not for Shaper magic it would be impossible to practice meaningful agriculture on the cleared spans of land, given the poor soil. And two centuries ago, that may not have been possible even with Shaper magic.
A sudden clamber caught Jass’ attention, bringing him out of his reverie. He was now seated at one of the tables. Looking around, he could not locate the source of the sounds, but they grew louder. Inhuman screaming and pleading and the sound of a man’s slurred shouts.
Eventually his eyes were drawn to one side of the room where the stairs to the upper level led. Tumbling down it was a small, hunched figure in a brown roughspun robe that covered most of it. In spite of this the graduate did not have to glimpse the elongated nose that protruded from under the hood to know that it was a servile. No matter where the faithful servants of the Shapers went, no matter what they did, it seemed that they always wore the same thing.
Created by the Shapers, they were perhaps the crowning achievement among all other things that the Shapers had made. And so, of course, that also made them potentially the most dangerous. It had proven so during the Rebellion. In that terrible past war the serviles had rose up against their rightful masters and fought a vicious and, in any sane man’s opinion, hopeless war against the might of Shaper rule. Or it would have been if not for the thrice-damned drayks. Since then, any Shaper one met preached caution about the seemingly placid creatures.
Yet looking at the scene unfolding, now at the steps of the stairs, Jass could hardly believe even the dire warnings of the Council about such creatures. Bred to handle labor that was too dangerous or simply beneath Shapers – and to a lesser extent, outsiders – this servile was not unlike the rest of its kind in Issei. Now curled on the floor, it was stammering apologies and pleading for its life in mindless terror to the violence that was being inflicted upon it. A moment later, the source of the abuse became visible.
He was not a Shaper. That much was obvious before he even stepped into view. His stink preceded his heavy boots down the last of the stairs which were themselves robbed of the honor of first entrance by this protruding, unwashed belly. The man stunk of cheap beer and, looking into his heavy-set, fatty face, Jass saw a mixture of rage and alcohol in his eyes. Spittle dripped from his partially open mouth as two other men of similar girth stepped into the room.
In truth, Jass couldn’t tell what the man was angry about. His rambling speech protested something about a dirty room and obstructing his path as he repeatedly kicked the prone creature. The owner of the establishment appeared for a moment at the edge of the graduate’s field of view and disappeared just as quickly while the servile wailed in pain. None of the other patrons rose from their seats or said anything.
Standing from his seat, Jass crossed to the confrontation and slid in between the man and the creation without a word, letting his eyes say everything as they met the man’s. Dressed as he was in the clothes of Academy students, Jass was nothing abnormal in the rude quarters where many students came to blow off steam. Still, even if the outsider knew that the shorter man before him was unlikely to be a Shaper, a glint of fear entered his eyes for a moment. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that only goaded him into greater rage.
In the brief moment before the inevitable storm, Jass stole a glance over to Councilwoman Yantan, who was still seated at their table. Far from being oblivious, she was watching closely, but the set of her shoulders said that she was not planning on doing anything. There was unlikely to be any help from that quarter then.
Surprisingly, the brute attempted words before violence. Sputtering his rage, he managed to speak. “Get out of my way, boy. This don’t concern you. This is between me and that bitch.” Blinking at the words, Jass stole a glance down at the servile. It was indeed female, though it was difficult to say for most people. The outsider must have been here a while to know the difference. Turning back to the man, Jass replied, trying to keep his voice official and civilized. “This servile is property of the Shapers. It belongs to us. We have placed it in the custodianship of the proprietor of this establishment. If you are displeased with its performance, then you can appeal to either of those groups. But you are not permitted to met out your own brand of punishment, no matter the provocation.
The man backed up, obviously surprised that Jass was standing his ground on the matter. Still, in his drunken state he probably missed the underlying threat in the response. Shoving a finger towards the servile he complained. “I told you, it isn’t your business. We can do whatever we want with these things. They are made to serve us. Now back off.”
Inwardly Jass felt slightly sick. The sentiment before him was one held by many outsiders, incorrectly. Many a time he had seen or heard of Shapers being dispatched to handle domestic incidents when custodians of serviles abused their power over the creatures. It never ended well. It was true that many Shapers shared the same views, but that was a different group of people who used a different set of rules. He shook his head and said, “No. You have no right to treat her in this way. Now back away before I do something about this.”
Instantly, the graduate knew that he had said the wrong thing, even if it was technically correct. Behind the brutish eyes of the man and his friends, he could see them working out the threat in front of him. The two apes grinned to one another and stepped back, the room they gave added to as nearby patrons backed up. All expected carnage to ensue, but only the ones that had already been in the dining room knew which way it was going: they knew or at least suspected what Jass was. The trio of men were too drunk to understand their folly.
The nameless giant started it, backing up and swinging a ham-sized fist. By all rights, it should have ended there with Jass on the floor with a broken nose and shattered pride. The man was at least three inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. His belly may be fattened on beer, but his arms were corded with muscles. And he was fast for someone his size, moving with a speed at odds with his girth.
However, his opponent was no puffed-up merchant’s son who had left his guards at home on a dare from his friend who sat at a nearby table with a tavern wench he was trying to impress. Jass was a Shaper. Well, he had not yet taken his oath, but his training was drawing to a close and many secrets that would frighten lesser men and training that would break weaker beings were behind him. His Shaper training gave him not just a strong sense of law and duty and order, but also power and the knowledge to use it. He could sense a creation at a half league and tell whether it was rogue. He could calm creations and command them with just his mind. He could absorb lore at a pace which made all others seem slow.
Jass was more than just a Shaper though. He was an acolyte, an aspirant, of the Guardian sect, the mailed fist of the Shapers. The graduate had trained in the deadly arts of mortal combat even more than the shadowy Agents. Reflexes and strength that surpassed mortal men would be his to command at any moment. When war came to the Shapers it was the Guardians who raised the mighty spearheads to bring low the foe.
Of course, none of this forgave pointless extravagance in combat. Ducking low to dodge the fist, Jass moved behind the large man. A free arm swept out as the outsider turned to face him, accompanied by blazing eyes. The light in them would have scared most of the other patrons if they had seen them, but Jass allowed no time for that. Lashing out, he struck the man in the throat. A thick, fluid gurgling sound issued from the man’s mouth as he clutched his ruined apple with both hands, his strength suddenly fled to nothing as he sank to the ground.
There was no time to savor the victory as heavy hands fell on Jass’ shoulders and spun him around. He had only a moment to pull back before a fist no smaller than the one he had just evaded flattened his face. As it was, the blow graze him and put him down atop the struggling form of the man that he had incapacitated. A moment later he rolled, avoiding a booted foot that would have struck the fork of his legs. Instead, it broke the fallen man’s ribs. As he rose to his feet one of the brutes grabbed the front of his robes and lifted him, raising another fist in the process.
Just as Jass was contemplating his next move, a shadow fell on him and his opponent. Both of them turned, Jass already feeling what it was that stood over them. Towering over the melee, the newcomer was painted blue and striped red across bald skin that was only covered by a single loincloth around the midsection. A head that brushed the establishment’s ceiling held eyes black as night which themselves held no sympathy. Rough lips pulled back to reveal sharpened teeth. Yet Jass knew that its awesome muscles were its choice weapon.
The man had lifted Jass, but he was struggling with the weight, for the graduate’s tonnage was corded muscle and heavy bone. It allowed only enough time for a fast punch, not a long lifting. The man had waited too long, now frozen in his fear of what stood before him. When the creature grabbed him by his jacket and lifted him with hand, he let go of Jass a moment before it sent him flying across the room to slam into the back wall. Bones crunched.
Rising to his feet, Jass watched as the creation loomed over the last man, menace painted on its features. It knocked him to the ground and Jass straightened his jerkin as the man screamed for mercy under a flurry of bone-breaking blows. His screams did not last long and silence fell.
“Now what is going on here?” demanded a haughty voice. Jass turned to see the familiar dark robes of a Shaper striding into the room. In the light of the candles the graduate picked out the smooth, bald features of a Shaper he had seen, but did not know personally. That was no surprise. Though it was well known that Shaper Thorin and Uthain had a child, not all made the effort to pursue better politics through that route and Jass had never thought to seek them out. As the Battle Beta whirled around at the irritation in its master’s voice, the graduate suddenly wished he had. Seeing Jass, the man pointed and said, “You, student, what happened here?”
The question was no surprise. Though he was not a full Shaper, Jass still eluded the aura of one who could Shape, even if they never had. It made it possible for a Shaper to be distinguished from outsiders, even if they did not wear the garments of the sects. And being a Shaper, Jass was expected to always be on the better end of things. As it just so happened in this case, he was. And he told the nameless Shaper so.
Each word of the story seemed to cause the Shaper to swing like a pendulum, from one side to the other. No emotion was considered best when surrounded by outsiders, even if most had already fled when the patrol had arrived, opting to run the gauntlet of glaahk and roamers than stay in the room with angry Shapers. Anger was one emotion that was tolerated from Shapers, as it added to the aura of fear and mystery that surrounded them, a surer defense against their enemies than a thousand creations.
Still, the man obviously fumed more over the incident than was normal. Had they been alone, the man might have shouted about telling the Council and getting Jass expelled. Yet with the outsiders watching and Yantan sitting on the sidelines, he would not openly issue accusations, not even with two dead and one seriously wounded civilians on his watch. Angry he might be, but he was not politically blind. Jass saw as much and was sickened by it.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, the servile plucked up the courage to speak. As she bowed to the two, Jass could see that she was in pain. She probably had broken bones, a fact that would infuriate whichever minder she was looked after by. The Shapers may vary in their opinion of how serviles should serve, but they also appreciated how complicated it was to make one. This forced Shapers to create the serviles so that they could mate, saving the effort of Shaping them. This was rare, as most creations were made sterile so they could not spread if they went rogue.
“Thank you masters,” she said, “I – I am Greta. How might I serve you?”
The Shaper looked suitably annoyed by this interruption. He clearly had no interest in the creation; he probably thought that it could tell him nothing useful. Still, he held his tongue when Yantan walked up and turned the servile around. It flinched at her touch.
“Oh, poor thing!” she said, the delight in her eyes absent, replaced by an unreadable expression. “Come over here and let me check if you need to be Healed.” Ignoring the stammers of the servile about not troubling her, the creature allowed herself to be led off. The Shaper cast a strange look at Jass, but was less inclined to say anything more with a Councilmember so close at hand. Huffing, he prompted Jass to finish his story.
Half an hour later Jass found himself striding through the streets of Issei again, Yantan at his side and a bowl of hot fish stew in his hand. Though he had little appetite after viewing what remained of the second man, the woman had insisted that he take it. For his own part, the owner had heavily suggested that the graduate never return, though he did not say as much. Even as they left, the unnamed Shaper already gone, serviles under the keen eyes of the outsiders in the City Watch arrived to clean up the mess. There would be no further investigation, though a report would be filed with the Council. The lives of three outsiders violating Shaper Law was simply not worth the effort.
He felt Yantan drape an arm across his shoulders. “What are you thinking about?”
“I was just thinking about the way in which we count the lives of Shapers and outsiders and creations,” he replied, adding before he could stop himself, “It seems to me sometimes that we concern ourselves too much with... ourselves.”
She laughed, though he thought it held less mirth than it sounded. “Are you talking about Edwin’s blatant politics? Are you displeased that you escaped Shaper justice just because I was with you? Perhaps you wanted to be punished for not leaving the matter to the patrols?”
“No,” he said slowly, slowing his thoughts where others would have stammered and dug themselves deeper, “but it was his duty to see Shaper Law done justice and he didn’t seem to do that. I think it bears questioning.”
“Perhaps it does,” said Yantan, withdrawing her arm to cover a yawn with her hand. “But mind that you don’t inspect Shaper Law too quickly, my little friend. You might not like what you see. Now where you off to, now that our fast is more or less broken?”
Looking up with a slightly sour face over his covered bowl of stew, Jass replied, “I have to return to the Academy now. My father has given me command of one of the last groups to head out, if I am going out at all. I have had their instructors summon them to one of the empty classrooms where we will plan our journey. Some will come; others might meet us when we set out. At least, that is what I hope.”
The Councilwoman nodded thoughtfully. “Well, then, I leave you here. I have errands of my own to run in the city. But leave some time for me in your busy day, if you can make it. I have something for you, before you go.” Her eyes twinkled and she laughed him off.
Originally Posted by Lady Celeste
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