An Arcanist's Citadel 9 (Patreon)

An Arcanist’s Citadel

Chapter 9

-VB-

Tevos drummed her fingers on the round table between her, turian Councilor Nal Sparatus, and the salarian Councilor Equnii Valern. 

They were all here for a single reason: the human supersoldier project. 

It was obvious that they had one, but the problem was that no matter how stringently and invasively they investigated the issue, they couldn’t find anything.

Except on Elysium.

It was obvious that “Alan Marris” was the only supersoldier the Systems Alliance managed to produce. So powerful, in fact, that they might have scrapped the project and scrubbed any evidence of its existence. 

Which meant that the only avenue for their research into their own supersoldier projects - which have failed consistently over the last thousand years - was with Alan Marris.

There was a problem, however. 

“They haven’t reported in,” Tevos grumbled with begrudging defeat. “Do you have anything on their disappearance?”

“Human supersoldier defeated several hundred batarian raiders. Raiders weren’t ill-equipped or untrained. Many Hegemony officers among them. Unlikely for asari commandos to win against supersoldier. I warned you of this,” Valern huffed, the ever perpetual red rings around his eyes - a sign of barely legal drug use - before glancing at Sparatus. “STG recorded their deaths. Were on their way from city to target. Vehicle stopped working quarter of the way. Began to collapse for no reason at third. All died at around halfway mark. Novices sent down to check. Found no issue until just one of them dropped dead. The rest returned without damage.”

Tevos glared at her colleague. “You let my people die without helping?” 

“No way to know if they would be affected,” the salarian shrugged. “Many unknown variables. Did not choose to risk agents during heightened tensions.”

She … didn’t like it. Some of those commandos had been her subordinates for over a hundred years. Some have been her followers since the start of her political career. Losing them wasn’t just losing a few people with skills but genuine faces and memories.

“And you, Sparatus?” she asked the turian.

Of the three Council races, the turians were the most eager to show their dominance over the humans after the First Contract War, which was what the humans called the Relay 314 Incident. It was a clusterfuck of a situation that led to the humans fracturing. There were many human colonies that chose not to entertain joining the human’s Systems Alliance because they considered such an action to be a racial betrayal… because the Turian Hierarchy has yet to apologize for the attack. 

They still called it “an unfortunate incidence” that they felt “grew out of control unexpectedly” as if their admiral hadn’t destroyed surrendering Alliance ships. It didn’t matter that the admiral in question had been court martialed and dishonorably discharged from service; the humans still considered the entire incident to be the hierarchy’s fault. 

The turians, naturally, disliked the humans who they saw as an inferior polity and race disrespecting a superior, older, and more established race. 

Sparatus was … not one of those turians. He was an emotional man who relished in the bravery and violence of the Relay 314 Incident. He praised both human and turian soldiers who fought bravery. He also hated politicians from both sides who wouldn’t let go of the incident despite how long it’s been from the perspective of shorter lived races. 

Oh, he also considered the humans to be an inferior race but only so because of their lack of experience and time serving the council, not because of any inherent trait. He hated the fact that humans tried to get on the council while possessing no merits or achievement comparable to any of the council races. 

“Why would I bother?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his mandibles wobbling briefly in a show of barely hidden mirth. “I know that you and Valern would have found something if there was something to be found. The hierarchy will move its soldiers when there is a need for a big battle. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Both Valern and Tevos glared at Sparatus, who shrugged at their displeasure. “Look, most of the hierarchy’s intelligence is busy dealing with insurgents, pirates, volus nationalists, and the entirety of the Terminus Systems. That’s why I sent someone else.”

“Who?”

“Nihlus.”

-VB-

Observe. Analyze. Apply. 

Nihlus saw a lot of things. He saw the video of the supposed human supersoldier and non-biotic abilities. He saw the lack of mass casualty among defenders. He saw the definite mass casualty among raiders. 

He deduced that the human “supersoldier” was capable of much more than he showed because he walked around without so much as a scratch, never mind a medigel scar, on his person. Non-biotic abilities meant that there was a chance that his abilities could not be detected in action. The man also seemed to know where his enemies were before he even saw them. 

Nihulus quickly deduced that he needed to do three things in order to investigate the Elysium situation.

One, he needed more information. 

Two, he needed more more firepower.

Three, he needed to decide. 

After having observed more than a few human factions and agencies come and go without a problem as well as the salarian STG, he began to question why the asari commandos died. 

Why the commandos and not the more numerous and overt “catholics”? He initially thought the human supersoldier was xenophobic… until he saw how scared some of those humans were. 

Which was why he “borrowed” one of their accessories, which they passed around. Each time this “rosary” was worn over the neck, the humans grew horrified and scared. 

So he made the decision to wear the rosary.

Gently, Nihlus pulled the rosary over his head and then down his neck.

… Nothing. 

He looked around. 

Nothing. 

“Hmm,” he muttered. “Is it biocoded? There were no repeating codes or phrases human catholics used among each other,” he muttered. 

He tried to cross gesture the human catholics did. He touched his head, stomach, and then the shoulders in the exact pattern.

Nothing. 

“Perhaps they had another item that worked in conjunction with it?” he muttered.

There were many things he “borrowed” from the catholics. He wore one. He wore two. He wore four. 

He wore everything. 

He carried their guns, grenades, and even a sunglass.

Nothing. 

“Vexing,” he muttered as he took off everything. 

And then, as he tried to take off the rosary, one of his scales got caught and broke on the metal necklace. 

And immediately, he felt something. 

A shiver? 

No, anxiety. Maybe even fright. 

He looked around.

Nothing… and yet the woods he had secluded himself in felt colder. Felt like he was being watched now. 

‘Religion, sacred items, and … flesh,’ he thought to himself as he connected three items that was related to this new phenomenon. 

This was … something he had experience with, actually. And because he knew what this was.

‘Shamanism,’ he thought with some apprehension.

Turians, though they did not shamanism, were intimately familiar with spirits and nature through the Hierarchy of Spirits. It was an understanding that spirits existed, though they chose not to interact with the material world. 

But what if they were forced to?

That’s turian shamanism, or in the old tongue now forbidden to be used outside of academic circles, amunthdan. And there was only one organization who were the Hierarchy’s equivalent of the catholics.

The Ordamunth, those who watched the boundary between the spirits and the living.

If the human supersoldier was something akin to Ordamunth’s Chief Enforcer…

Then this wasn’t something he could take on alone. 

He gathered everything and quickly rushed toward his shuttle.