The men from the Watch were far less intimidating than Alarion had expected.

The Vitrian Secret Service had a terrifying reputation, and for good reason. As the only Vitrians legally permitted to lie, they were selected for loyalty and competence in equal measure. There was no nepotism in the Watch; no men like Pierce or Elazi held positions of power because of their connections, or because no one else was interested in the job. Even in Ashad, the Watch was meritocratic and ruthless.

But they were also professional. They greeted Alarion kindly, inquiring about his wounds and apologizing for their intrusion. They joked and smiled, doing their best to put him at ease despite the disparity in ability and status. The two were large and powerful, easily rank III if he had to guess, yet they did not flaunt their strength, or try to intimidate him.

He was on their side, after all.

As they moved from pleasantries to inquiries, Alarion kept his answers short and succinct, providing details only where requested. His story was corroboration, not revelation—a story they'd heard three times already: from Bergman, Dimov, and Kali. That they were asking at all spoke to the scale of the disaster. The Empire wanted answers, and the Watch wanted retribution for the black eye that they'd suffered.

So they went over his story front to back, then back to front. They pried at every inconsistency—not necessarily out of suspicion, but out of caution. Details were important, the men told him. Details were where secrets dwelled.

Though exhausted, Alarion endured the interrogation. With no secrets of his own to hide, honesty was the best policy. He told them everything he remembered, and was forthright about what he didn't. Save, of course, for the number of books they had taken from Shae-Yomag.

Whatever reason Bergman had for lying to the Watch, Alarion trusted it was important. He trusted his friend.

When the agents broached the topic of the items recovered from Shae-Yomag, Alarion didn't lie, but he certainly bent the truth. There might have been one hundred and ninety-six books. That certainly sounded like it could be correct.

It wasn't that Alarion had some compunction against lying. Despite some of his more Vitrian tendencies, Alarion was willing to lie to protect a friend if push came to shove, but he knew it was better not to. ZEKE had told him, years ago, that some skills and spells could detect lies to varying degrees.

Such spells were uncommon in Vitria because using them was tantamount to an accusation of dishonesty. Accusing another Vitrian of lying, especially without direct evidence, tended to result in a lawsuit at best and bloodshed at worst.

Still, if there was anyone in Vitrian society who would take such a skill, it would be members of the Watch. Even the careful dissembling Alarion engaged in was risky. If the men had suspected any dishonesty on his part, they could have pressed the issue. A simple yes or no question would have been enough to force him into a corner, to choose between honesty or lying outright.

Fortunately, they appeared to take him at his word. After two hours of grueling questioning, the larger of the two men closed his notepad, smiled, and asked Alarion to turn over all the materials his team had recovered.

With his MP still diminished from his injuries, it took the better part of an hour for Kotone to empty her inventory of the veritable mountain of recovered documents and items.

All except one.

The sun was setting by the time the agents departed. Even then, he was not left alone. A middle-aged nurse entered his room mere minutes after the two had departed. She tut-tutted about the various intrusions and his exertions, then set about changing his dressings and replacing his medication.

A few minutes of assessment followed. She examined his reflexes, tested his vision and mobility, marking down each result on a clipboard. Once she was finished, she left the room and returned with the least appetizing meal Alarion had eaten since his time in the Old City.

It wasn't the flavor, so much as the consistency. The puréed mass of vegetables was a strong contender for the most revolting thing he'd ever put in his mouth, competing with the reigning champion: a healing potion—and it came with the extra indignity that he could not even feed himself.

Whatever reverence his nurse might've had for treating a hero of the state evaporated throughout the meal. By the end, she was treating him as a recalcitrant child, nearly forcing the last few bites into his mouth before providing him a handful of pills and a new glass of water to wash it all down.

Her duty done, she turned on a lamp at his request, covered him with a blanket against his protests, and left him alone with his thoughts.

Alarion lingered in solitude for over an hour. His waking moments had been such a cavalcade of social activity that it felt nice to be alone. Not for the first time, he dreamt of a different life. If the scavengers had not found him, he might still be in the Old City, hungry and uneducated, but without the weight of others bearing down on him. Without their expectations.

It would've been a terrible life, he knew that, but it would've been his.

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"Kotone, the bracelet please."

"Yes, Miss. Yes-"

"Be of me," ZEKE interrupted, his voice distant. "Be of me. Be… of me. Be… Alarion? Where are we?"

"Ashad-Vitri. I had to store you to protect you from its mental attack."

"You're hurt," ZEKE said. Then, a heartbeat later, the Steelborn added, "Badly. What happened?"

Alarion spent the next thirty minutes bringing ZEKE up to speed on what he had missed. He had glossed over the details of the True Heart's mental attack during his discussion with the Watch, but he was more open with ZEKE. Tears stung his eyes as he spoke of Sierra, of the thing that wore her memory alongside so many others.

Zeke remained uncharacteristically quiet through the telling, asking only a handful of clarifying questions. He held his tongue even after Alarion finished, letting the boy collect himself before giving his assessment.

"You were reckless," ZEKE said with a tone so gentle that it hardly felt like a rebuke. "You ought to have doubled back and found the others. But I understand. I am proud of you. You saved lives."

Alarion managed a weak smile.

"But no good deed goes unpunished, Master Sergeant."

"Do not remind me," Alarion groaned.

"It will benefit you in the long run," ZEKE promised. "Even if you despise it, rank comes with privileges. You will be under the thumb of fewer idiots, and your social status will rise, even after you leave the Auxilia."

"Speaking of Status…" Alarion grinned.

"Ah, yes, you must've leveled substantially as well."

"As well?"

If ZEKE's projection could smirk, it would have. Instead, he lifted a hand, and a set of shimmering windows, not unlike Alarion's Status screen, appeared beside him.

Conspiratorial Whisper [Common]

Description: As a Construct Confidant, you know the value of discretion. Whether it be battle-plans, warnings, or even mentions of your very existence, there are some secrets best kept from prying ears.

Requirements: Steelborn. POW 15.

Type: Active.

Effects: By channelling a minor amount of MP, the user is able to speak directly to anyone wearing their vessel with minimal risk of being overheard. By channelling a variable amount of MP, the user is able to speak directly to anyone within line of sight with minimal risk of being overheard. This power can be overcome through the use of an auditory observation skill at least one rank more advanced than this skill.

Growths: PER +2. POW +2.

--

Shield of the Bearer [Uncommon]

Description: Having faced death on the wrist of your bearer, you are keenly aware of the risks you take every time he enters combat. With everything you've done to protect him, it seems only fair that he should protect you. Even to his detriment.

Requirements: Steelborn. POW 75.

Type: Passive/Active.

Effects: The user may siphon up to a minor amount of their bearer's END attribute to add ten times that amount to the durability of their vessel when attacked. Greatly increase the difficulty of any attempt to forcibly remove your vessel from its current bearer against your will.

Growths: END +6

--

Last Resort [Rare]

Description: Countless bound spirits have met their end sealed inside forgotten relics—trapped in darkness, buried beneath rubble, or left to rot beside their fallen wielders for centuries. With no body to move and no means of escape, they lingered in silence until madness claimed them. You… would rather not.

Requirements: Steelborn. POW 125.

Type: Passive/Desperation

Effects: The user must spend eight hours channelling at a point of their choosing to create a failsafe destination. Should the user's bearer die within the next ten days, the user's vessel will be teleported to the failsafe destination. This teleportation will bypass anti-teleportation wards of up to two ranks. This teleportation is not voluntary.

Growths: POW + 12

--

Shining Force [Rare]

Description: For too long, you have been little more than a whisper in your bearer's ear. A guide, a watcher, a prisoner. This skill changes that. By overloading the embedded light projector, you can unleash a searing burst of light upon a hapless foe. More than just an attack, it is a declaration.

Requirements: Steelborn. POW 275.

Type: Active.

Effects: By channelling a variable amount of MP, the user may overload the light projector built into their vessel to produce a powerful solar attack. This attack manifests as a directed bolt of magical energy. The strength, duration, and cooldown of this attack vary depending on the amount of MP spent.

Growths: POW + 12

Note: Overuse of this skill can cause temporary or even permanent damage to the vessel. This skill imparts knowledge of the vessel's general tolerance. The vessel's tolerance can be improved through increases in the END and POW attributes.

--

"You have Awakened?" Alarion asked.

"I think it would be more accurate to say that I have Reawakened," ZEKE said. "It seems the System felt my contribution in leading you through the tunnels entitled me to a portion of the experience. Enough for thirty-six levels in a class it calls Construct Confidant. And as soon as I accepted, I regained much of my existing power."

"But not all?"

ZEKE sighed dramatically. "Sadly, not. My strength and agility are entirely zeroed out, and my power attribute is substantially diminished. Upon reviewing my skill list, I see that most of my skills are marked as unavailable. Anything that would require a physical body, and almost all of my magical abilities as well. I have my observation skills, and I may be able to access my Infinite Library, but most of the rest is off-limits."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. This is auspicious news," ZEKE said, his tone turning upbeat the more he spoke. "I had consigned myself to the knowledge that my life's work had been lost in its entirety. I am delighted to learn that this is not the case. To say nothing of my new power, however small."

"I am a bit wary of Shield of the Bearer," Alarion admitted. "But I would have given up one of my own skill choices to give you Last Resort."

ZEKE laughed, a bit of tension flowing out of his holographic shoulders. "I was worried you might see the choice as a lack of faith on my part."

"I am more annoyed that you did not ask my advice on your choices," Alarion scowled. "Hardly seems fair."

"I will consider it next time," ZEKE said in a manner that suggested he would reject the consideration quite quickly when the time arrived. "Though speaking of your choices…"

Alarion turned his attention to the mountain of notifications he had left unresolved. He opened his Status, quickly skimming them, before checking his skill options.

Some were good, others great.

And one was dangerous.

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