Chapter 38 - People

Holy Power.

An ability as bountiful as it is unknown.

Held under the Discipline of Divinity, followed by those who serve under the Goddess, swearing themselves in service their whole lives, it is a power many hold within the clergy, if their faith is true.

And above that, is Divine Power.

A realm that only the most devout might achieve at the end of their lives, said to be able to truly raise the dead back into life, unlike the molestation of life that is necromancy.

Each Hero is said to have achieved the highest reaches of the three Disciplines, but only few had ever grasped the corners of Divine Power.

Even so, holy healing wasn't so bad.

At the very least, it wasn't the twisting mess of cables in his body, that magical healing felt like. It was not a clumsy rewiring but an expert handling of something that it had already made a long time ago.

There was an ancient connection he felt to it, each time he underwent it. As if a long lost lover, had come back again.

He opened his eyes, since it had come to an end, his mouth opened in a whispering bliss, "...How liberating."

Despite being tied to a chair, the feeling of Holy Power was quite the immaculate thing.

He felt completely refreshed, as if he had just gotten out of a spa.

Though, the two staring at him didn't seem to feel the same way.

It had happened shortly after he had arrived.

Constance had noticed the murkiness on him, specifically, in his chest, and taken the Waystone, which wasn't there's, and he was subsequently caught.

It isn't as though he hadn't seen this coming, but to say he didn't expect this pair to be so decisive, would be a lie.

Sitting in the chair, he looked up at the ceiling.

It was a long way up. Even the counter of what looked like a laboratory, with it's great glass containers, was at least fifty feet up.

The scale was fantastic. He could hardly wrap his head around how big a giant would actually be when standing face to face, or foot.

"Will you talk now?"

 A familiar tone and voice, one Constance Evergreen, was speaking to him.

He smiled, but it didn't feel right to anyone looking.

For some reason, though he completely understood why, they were doing what they were doing, and he would have done either the same or worse, he still felt a bit upset.

It was a strange thing.

He didn't know why.

But, he didn't need to know why.

He'd already prepared for this on his way here, after sniffing out his own way stone that she had stolen off him.

Looking back down, he saw her face.

She was quite serious, as the holy power around her had begun to dissipate. A great contrast to the happiness she seemed to have shown earlier at his arrival.

"What do you want to know?" Argo was more than certain they didn't have it in them to torture him, and it wouldn't work if by some change of heart they did.

He felt safe in that chair. Though, it was not so comforting having Awick unblinkingly staring at him from the camp fire behind Constance.

"How did you get down here?" Constance stood in front of him, with her arms crossed.

She had learned interrogation techniques in the church, but she didn't want to use them, at least, that much he had surmised given her lenient stance.

He thought for a few moments, he had it all planned out, but a little cleaning up would do no harm, and then his lips moved, "I was thrown into a whirlpool and almost drowned in a pipe with water rushing what felt like a few dozen meters a second, until I got to a still point, and bombed the area ahead, arriving in a chamber down here." 

Constance watched him with her special vision. 

Though it was a strong support, to have such a thing, it was equally a crutch, and anyone who knew of it, and knew how to lie without lying, would be able to get around it.

Constance looked back and nodded.

He had not lied, after all.

'Down here', was definitely somewhere down here.

It would be an important lesson for Constance, and this crutch of hers.

After all, he had no intention of getting away with this misdirection.

Instantly another voice jumped in, "Which chamber?"

The fire crackled.

Argo looked past Constance at Awick.

He had a small smile on his face, and Constance reeled her head back a bit, staring at him, and then glancing back at Awick.

She felt like she'd been completely passed over.

"The First Gate has a chamber on the side. Human sized area. I met some people there that want the Hero here. They have a rat somewhere within your ranks. Oh, and, since I know your curious, it was that girl you like, that pushed me into the whirlpool. Marce, I believe it was." 

To say Argo was still a bit irritated by that, would be a vast understatement.

Constance's pupils shrank.

Marce had tried to kill him? 

She turned to Awick. Her expression was a bit colder. Awick didn't look surprised, nor tried to fake it either. Though, he was definitely feeling something, she couldn't tell what exactly it was.

He just sighed after a moment. 

Was he lamenting his own failure? Or was he upset that she had not listened to him to stop her ways? Maybe he was angry, that she had done it but knew it would happen.

No matter what, Constance had a tinge of disappointment and disgust in her voice, looking at Awick, wanting an explanation, "...Really?" 

He knew she was someone who would do something like that, to the point that he wasn't surprised, and he had done nothing, leaving her alone like that? 

She waited, but Awick didn't provide any explanation for it. Not even a whisper of one.

She reared her head. 

Nepotism, or, love. 

She didn't know which it was, but she had been taught from a young age, that both were the beginning of the other. And the only thing that would follow in their wake, was ones own destruction and the ruin of what one really should care about.

She frowned.

She had thought better of him and the realization of being so wrong, was not an easy one.

Argo analyzed the social climate between the three, and waited until Constance finally turned back to him to speak again before anyone could ask another question.

With Awick in internal turmoil, at the understanding that the person he cares about is so diametrically opposite of his values and morals and had even acted on it, he had been given a big opening.

With it he took the initiative of the conversation.

"The girl was taken. When I went after them, I found their base locations. Marce had come to help and mobilized the other guards. We prevented a blast that would have leveled a large part of the Western District before diving into the sewers after them."

Constance stared at him with her vision, but kept close to her heart, the lesson she had just learned.

A quick study… the quality of her eyes had changed.

Argo felt slightly gratified, but also, understood he had made it harder for himself in the future.

But he preferred to have a smart hero that was hard to handle, than an easy one that anyone could take advantage of.

Awick listened closely. Someone had smuggled in so many explosives? How? Who? Where... had he allowed such an oversight?

And Marce had been so ungrateful, that she had made an attempt on his life, after he had saved what was potentially hundreds of lives, that he didn't have to save at all. He held his hands tightly together.

"There, after the battle had ended, and I'd secured us a way down, she pushed me into the eye of the sewer while everyone watched, which sent me spiraling in freezing water for a long time. I had to bomb a few places, and barely escaped with my life." 

He naturally played up the victim in his voice as easily as drinking water.

Awick shut his eyes tightly. It was not just Marce, but the whole of the Root Guards, that were so morally bankrupt, that they would just stand by and watch such an injustice. 

He knew that the next person to wield the Macuahuitl had not come yet, but listening to this, he did not feel worthy of it either. 

Their shameful actions, were his own as their Chief.

He could not escape his own blame, and it ate at him voraciously. 

"She wants to kill the girl, to remove any chance of luring you out. And by extension, luring out Awick into open ground, where he can be killed and you captured." 

"And how did you make it down here?" Argo knew it was only a matter of time, until this question came about.

Constance sent a look back at Awick. 

Awick who was deep in self reflection, also understood that as unworthy as he felt, he was still the strongest here, and had an obligation and duty, to the people unconscious here and their lives.

He would deal with Marce and the Root Guards who had stood with her, in that shame they now all shared, when the time came.

But right here and now, he had a mission to accomplish. 

Some shreds of the dignity of a chief, shone through at that moment in Constance's eyes, but, it was still marred horribly and made less, by what she had just heard not moments ago.

Regardless, Argo had prepared sufficiently at this point, for what he would say next.

"I came with the Rebels. They were my only way down. I disguised myself with the help of one of their mages who healed me and saved my life. I found the girl, and protected her. And after fighting our way through the first gate, I was sent ahead, to find you both and break that Waystone once I had lured you both out." 

Awick frowned slightly.

Then, he had come here to be bait, to lure them out. He had come out here, after likely fighting with those rebels who had attempted to bomb and kill hundreds, and now used children to try and get an edge.

He understood that the circumstances were difficult. And he understood that he did what he had to do, in order to make it down here to try and save the girl, which he knew he cared about.

But, it also remained true, that if they had not found the waystone on him, that it was highly likely that he would have gone through with it.

He was affiliating with the enemy.

Argo caught that look in Awick's eye. He knew what he was thinking, and could only laugh a little inside.

Constance caught on as well.

He was condemning Argo for what he did to come down, and what he believes he would have done, without knowing if it was truly what he had planned.

He was jumping to conclusions, having a distrust of Argo without reason, perhaps as a trait gained through being a Chief for many years.

Regardless, of why Awick felt as he did, Argo could not bring himself to hate him. 

Awick had a big heart, and a far vision, but it looked more and more as though he was one to mis the forest for the trees. 

Yet, he was still a man who was following his own principles as best as he could, despite his surroundings and mistakes.

It was clear enough as well, that he was taking the issue of Marce and the guards seriously, as well as his duty here to the people left unconscious seriously as well, despite the massive betrayal and shame he must feel.

And that was admirable enough.

Neither Argo, nor anyone, could ask for perfection. But he not above using it for his own gain.

Constance cleared her mind, and focused down at Argo, her lips parted.

"If you fail?"

Argo merely looked up at Constance.

That look was all she needed for an answer.

Her eyes shut tightly.

...Was this a heroes fate? To sacrifice? To choose who should live and who should die?

Had those before her, had to go through this? This, turmoil? This horrible decision? 

How many times? How many lives? How... how could anyone make these choices so easily?

They had taught her loneliness in the isolation chambers of the church. If they were going to keep her like a caged bird, she wished they had never let her out, to meet such wonderful and strange people.

To feel this way. 

Had she been wrong, to try and make connections? To fight against a heroes fate? To...

..to try and… and…

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The thoughts were choked out of her mind as best she could. Her eyelids trembled.

What could she do? 

Marce was coming, and if Lunston came with her, it was highly likely that he would do the same, or perhaps not, but, if Awick was able to overlook Marce, she could only imagine what he was missing about Lunston.

In order for the girl to survive, and for everyone, to escape alive, she didn't know what to do.

How does one fight against insurmountable odds? 

She felt the panic rising in her body, and the helpless gripping her chest all over again. It was rising up like back then. 

She felt the tears trying to fall, at the lamentation of her own fate. But she broke them back.

Who was she to cry? 

But what was she supposed to do? 

Her thoughts slowed.

What the hell could she do? 

She hung her head.

Was this all she could amount to?

...In the dark, a pair of eyes, with a long shadow cast from the fires light behind her, had been watching.

It's lips slowly parted.

"...I can't help with these restraints on."