Waterstrider

Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS

I couldn’t help but think that the interior of the Celan headquarters was oddly mundane. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but a bland, generic office floorplan was not it. The walls were painted white, the featureless color still somehow better than the patchwork unsightliness of the Staiven designed structure I knew must exist underneath. What did not surprise me in the slightest was that the place was seemingly abandoned.

No matter what, the most important aspect of a headquarters was the people who worked inside of it. Even if the Heirs needed to move their personnel somewhere else to do their work, an organization of that size simply could not function effectively without the hard work of a skilled support staff.

The building itself still held an importance of its own, however. It was a symbol, and that symbol was the clan’s true target today. Anything else would just be a pleasant bonus for them. The core of this mission’s purpose was to damage the Heirs’ face while uplifting their own. It forced the Heirs to decide just how much this building was worth to them, and if the clan succeeded, this would not only mean the Celans would be demoralized, but would also force them to set up a new headquarters somewhere else. Somewhere with less effective defenses, most likely. The fixtures they had here would take time and money to set up, after all.

As we carefully stepped further into the depths of the building, I felt that the space was filled with an eerie quiet, a fitting match for the alien architecture of this maze of hallways. They were brightly lit by fixtures set into the center of the ceiling, like a rope extending, beckoning us deeper inside. I felt ill at ease, and a couple glances at Orion and the others told me that I was not the only one. Orion had not been happy about this mission from the very start, and I couldn’t imagine the current situation had left him feeling any better about it.

It was simply too quiet, too desolate. I had been expecting some sort of internal resistance, or at least some sort of evidence to suggest we had been let inside intentionally, but was met with nothing of the sort. The offices were all picked clean, clearly having been scoured of any useful or incriminating evidence, as well as all of the vital personnel who worked here. Looking around, it struck me that this was one of the advantages of advanced digital technology- the Celans were able to easily and secretly remove all of their vital documents because those documents were safely secured within their systems. One simply had to remove a few server banks.

Though Rachel confirmed that this was the case, it was not something I could confirm with my own eyes. The desks were still covered with knick-knacks, portraits, and desktop slates, as if the workers had simply returned home for the day with the intent of returning in the morning as usual.

I peeked into one of the offices, seeing nothing amiss, just a small set of shelves, a couple chairs, and a desk. I then returned to the hallway, continuing to explore the winding passage.

“Has the layout been matching your blueprint so far?” I asked suddenly, my voice directed nowhere in particular. Orion shifted, startled to hear me break the silence, but he knew that Rachel was hiding among our numbers, invisible, so he quickly regained his pallor.

“The area we’re in right now does,” she replied, her voice for once loud enough for others to hear, “But the other group is currently in an area that wasn’t even shown on the-”

As suddenly as it had appeared, Rachel’s voice cut out. It did not seem to be any sort of mechanical issue, more so that she had been distracted by something. I waited for a moment, expecting her to explain the pause.

“So that’s what that was,” said Rachel, her voice finally filling the silent air again. “It seems we weren’t alone, after all.”

Moments later, I heard the sound of gunfire in the far distance, echoing through the halls of the building. But the echo and the fact that I had yet to figure out just where the floorplan diverged from the blueprint rendered me unable to discern precisely where it was coming from. Orion tensed up beside me, and I heard muttering from some of the former gangsters around us.

“Rachel, is-” I started to ask, but she answered my question instantly, before I could even finish my sentence.

“They’re fighting with Jihan’s group. I haven’t noticed any nearby, but you know how imprecise it can be to track relevant locations between Telles and the Brink.”

I had a vague understanding, as the senses of one’s soul never seemed to be entirely accurate. It was as if there was some offset, some disconnect between the two realms. I had little anticipation of understanding the reason behind it. It was simply the nature of things.

As I processed the current situation, I frowned. Had I simply been more fortunate, while Jihan had taken the only path where they resided? Or were the Celans intending to perform some sort of guerrilla warfare inside of the building, hiding deeper into the den, just out of range of my senses? Unless we continued to explore the depths of the headquarters, there was no way to know.

“Shouldn’t you be able to sense their presence?” I asked. “If not the specific location, just whether or not more are present?”

“My senses are powerful enough to record every soul within the Tseludia System. The problem,” she explained, “is that the further away from me they are, the less precisely their physical body’s location can be estimated. I’ll tell you this, there’s a large number of souls in the rough area of the headquarters, but I can’t tell you whether they’re civilians nearby, combatants around the sides of the headquarters, or Celans inside.”

I sighed.

“Worth a try,” I said. “I can’t sense any, either. Just tell me if you sense anyone approaching. I imagine your range would be further than mine.”

We continued making our way through the halls, approaching and taking a stairwell up into the more important areas of the building. I felt anxious, waiting for something to happen while Rachel delivered reports every so often. Jihan’s group, she had said, had dealt with the ambush fairly easily, with only one death and a few injuries. Meanwhile, they believed that all of the Celans were dead. It was an effective trade, but it was unable to quell our anxiety. A known enemy was far less intimidating than one skulking in the darkness.

“Any progress with the system infiltration?” I asked, the anticipation getting to me. Even though I had little to fear from a Celan outside of a mech, I still felt anxious about the stark emptiness within the headquarters. There was something off-putting about it. When raiding a building, one expected to encounter shocked or angered inhabitants, not simply… nothing.

“Yes, actually,” said Rachel. “Surprisingly, they left a lot more behind than I expected them to. Not any of the really juicy stuff, of course, but I might be able to track down some of the properties they own using some of this financial transaction data.” She paused for a second, chuckling. “This lady named Khandra, though. She really doesn’t know how to properly file an invoice. It’s no wonder that everyone gossips behind her back about her failing marriage.”

I had zero desire to ask her what she was talking about. It seemed like she was wanting me to ask about it, but I was not foolish enough to comply. Still, the manner in which she spoke so casually greatly lessened my nerves. I shifted my grip on the hilt of my blade, half hoping we would be ambushed at any second, so I could let loose my emotions upon the Celans. Really, what I wanted to fight was an enforcer or another spirit refiner. Mortals, like the ones who had been guarding the entrance, simply did little to sate my thirst for battle, anymore. Despite this, I knew I couldn’t let my guard down. Even a mortal, provided they aimed well and caught me by surprise, could successfully take my life.

“Anything of note?” I asked, not caring in the slightest about some irrelevant finance matters. More likely than not I wouldn’t understand its importance even if it was explained to me.

“I’m still checking through all of the emails stored on some of these devices. But I’m not sure if any of it will be immediately- oh, nevermind. Found an exchange where they’re talking about the ‘Vice-Leader’s Office’. Go up one more floor. I should be able to direct you there, because I think I’ve figured out which of the rooms it was. I feel like we should probably check the area out, just in case.”

In many organizations, the Vice-Leader was a secondary figure, someone who took the role of an assistant to help the true Leader to focus on matters of overall policy and directive, while they would handle the smaller details. In our Redwater Sect, the relationship between the leader and vice leader was more of a partnership than anything, but the same was not true for the Heirs of Ottrien. There, Vice-Leader Deuvar was in absolute command, taking care of everything on the Leader’s behalf. An extremely small number of the Heirs’ members even knew what the Leader looked like, much less had met the man in person. For all intents and purposes, Deuvar was the man in charge. Even had Deuvar decided to refuse to serve the Leader any longer, and taken over the organization, the rank and file would probably not have even noticed.

I could understand Rachel’s logic and desire to search his office, but I couldn’t help but also feel that the Heirs would certainly have expected us to search there. If anything of import was left, it would be something they wished for us to see.

As we moved towards the place where Rachel claimed a stairwell had been in the original blueprints, Rachel let out a small noise.

“Huh,” she said. “It seems someone is approaching.”

We all tensed up again, and I shifted into my first stance, ready to make any movements needed. Beside me, Orion made a similar motion, his instincts trained by hundreds of battles in his time. But I could sense nothing in the surrounding rooms, and the moment slowly dragged out before Rachel spoke again.

“Hold on, this might be a false alarm,” she said.

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Look above. You should be able to sense them by now.”

Decisively, I swept my soul senses upwards, and immediately felt several presences above us. By now, some were moving closer while others further away. I frowned, trying to figure out whether it was a coincidence or somehow a plot. I glanced upwards, as if I would somehow be able to see through the roughly four foot thick platform which split the levels off from one another. I then sighed, releasing the tension within my body once more.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said. “We’ll deal with them when we get the opportunity.”

Orion nodded in response, and I returned my attention to the featureless hallway before us. I kept in mind that while we may be able to acquire benefits within the structure, our agreement with the Heirs simply mandated that we put proper efforts into the building’s subjugation. If they retreated, we would be alone and easily surrounded, while the longer we stayed inside, the more risks we experienced.

If we continued exploring the interior for too long, I thought, those risks would begin to far outweigh the rewards.

Pantheonic Law and Organized Crime: [Throughout all of Pantheonic space, Pantheonic Law remains consistent. After all, the presence of the churches ensures that no local government would dare to rebel against the rule of the gods. Because of this surety, and the influence of the Church of Verain, very few types of weapons are illegal under Pantheonic Law, and certain amounts of corruption within the system are granted a blind eye, provided prisoner quotas are met. After all, if the ruling powers support the system, and the weaker powers such as the corporations are able to benefit from it, only the oppressed might wish to confront Pantheonic hegemony. This is where organized crime syndicates come into play. By tacitly acquiescing to the existence and development of such organizations, this creates an environment where individual racial and cultural groups form their own forces, ones which inherently conflict, and must fight one another for dominance. A setting where each of them rely on the laws and rule set up by the Pantheonic Government to maintain their standing, and each would also be glad to see the downfall of another, rather than work together to achieve independence.]