Book 4 - Chapter 13 - The Imperial Church (T) (Patreon)

Yrob walked calmly at the lady’s side, long hands used ahead to keep him stable with the loping gait. The city was near deserted at this time of night, the empty streets passing them by with little lighting. She had a destination in mind, two in fact. But there was only one of her, so she needed someone else to reach the second. 

“You call? What need?” The Runner asked.

There was something To’Wrathh had been hesitant to breach. A subject that seemed to always be pushed back. Walking down the empty streets before them, To’Wrathh realized she couldn’t delay this any longer. Her people had a right to choose their own fate. Many of them would be dragged into this simply by being subordinates to her. If she failed to find a way to connect with Tsuya, at the very least she should let the machines under her command choose their own fate.

“Yrob,” She said, carefully picking the words. “Please define the current opinion of the pale lady among Runners.”

The old Runner continued his walk without change. “She is mother.” He simply said.

“Are you… how would you react if Mother grew unhappy with... my status?”

“Mother upset with you?” He asked. It wasn’t an accusation, more curiosity. His mind quickly came to the only reason Relinquished could be angry. “To’Aacar not good.” Yrob said firmly. “He attack you. You defend yourself. Mother will understand.”

To’Wrathh considered the argument. She’d told Relinquished she had accomplished her objective and had thrown To’Aacar into the scraps at the same time. But once Mother investigated the city, she surely would eventually uncover the truth. She’d won a stay of execution for the humans here claiming they were test subjects, but once she evacuated the city, the traces left behind would be obvious.

“To’Aacar attacking me is likely not the issue. What I expect mother will not accept is that I decided to let the humans in the city live.” And escape. But that went unsaid.

The Runner paused, thinking. “Then Mother not happy with us too. I like humans. I like cooking. You share taste with us.”

“Yrob, I need this to be clear. If mother deems us all in error, she will seek to eliminate you. Does that not scare you?”

Yrob thought for a moment, then gave a head boggle. “No Runner runs forever. Few Runners eat food. Better to run as part of the few.”

That seemed a deeper answer than what To’Wrathh had expected from Yrob.

Keith had constantly called her a glutton, the least picky eater he’d ever met. On her end, To’Wrathh couldn’t understand how humans could find anything not tasty, and neither could all the Runners or other machine models she’d shared with. It was one key difference between machines and humans. Or at least one of the larger differences.

By sharing her newly created sense of taste with the Runners, she was granting an entire sense category they’d never possessed before. Everything tasted unique.

Had that been worth shortening their life for? She wasn’t sure, but realized there was an easy way to find out. The feather turned her head to the Runner. “Was this worth upsetting mother and likely shortening your operational lifespan for? Would you follow my lead or hers if you had to make a decision?”

“Yours.” Yrob said without a pause. “Life is better. More fun. Bigger. Well spent already.

He wasn’t quite sure if Relinquished was a bad leader to follow, but he was sure To’Wrathh was a good leader to follow. If she said Relinquished was bad, he believed her. It made sense to him and his brothers. And they had been ready to attack To’Aacar, a Feather of Relinquished, earlier in the month. Yrob supposed that would be grounds to upset mother already.

“Is mother going to come? For us?” He asked.

To’Wrathh nodded slowly. “She will. Eventually.”

“Then. When she comes, we run.”

 To'Wrathh huffed, then smiled softly. “I suppose I have no choice but to find a way to protect you all. Fortunately, I have been working on this. There is a means of hiding from mother’s sight.”

“Escape Relinquished?” Yrob asked, voice tilting. “How escape?”

“The human goddess Tsuya was there to help my ancestors, other machines before me who also upset mother. I believe Tsuya will be there to help us if we ask. Finding a way to speak to her may be more difficult.”

“Give order. I find.”

To’Wrathh smiled. “If she made it easy to speak to her, she wouldn’t have survived as long as she had over the years. No, she speaks only to certain people who know. One of which may be living within Keith’s armor.”

“Ah. Angry lady.” Yrob said. He’d been around long enough to meet the ghost haunting that man’s armor. Her words didn’t make much sense to him, but he could tell they were angry and made to insult. Even if she had been speaking a completely different language, the tone was easy enough to tell.

To’Wrathh smiled. “Indeed, she is very angry, isn’t she? I would confront her myself, but Keith has left on a retreat with the Deathless clan lord a few days ago. This is why I’ve called you up. Take Tamery with you, and search for him. I’ll send you the coordinates. Give him my message. He’ll know what to do next.”

She felt a little guilty for sending the innocent eye’d Yrob to deal with Keith’s caustic roommate, no doubt Cathida wouldn’t spare the Runner any mercy. Tamery may help smooth things out, she hoped. 

“Understand. I go.” Yrob said, already lumbering over to the market, looking for a particular human to kidnap in the middle of the night. If To'Wrathh had considered it for a little longer, she might have realized this wasn't the best way to make a positive impression on the human population. 

But the feather was too distracted with her next task, already walking with purpose. Directly to the city's imperial church.

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They weren’t happy to see her.

The imperials all hushed once she approached their temple. A massive thing in comparison to the other buildings. It connected to a park, well kept with yellow flowers and other motifs. The entire place was covered in candles, incense, scrollwork filled with latin proverbs, and paintings of heroic crusaders.

Inside the building was no different, only she was met with silence.

“Lady To’Wrathh.” A man in a brown dress hobbled over to greet her, hastily woken up by the guards. Behind him, two crusaders kept a hand on the pommel of their swords, and their gazes were locked onto her.

The imperial church here had taken a beating during the invasion. General Zaang’s betrayal had left most of the crusaders hospitalized, or outright dead when they'd tried to hold the pillar heart against his elites. They were low on numbers, leaving the squires and servants to protect the church. These two crusaders may be the only ones standing. And they both knew they were outmatched against To’Wrathh. 

Zealous they may be, idiots they were not.

“Greetings priest Cadwin. I require an audience with you, in private.” She said.

The priests eyes narrowed slightly, but nodded all the same. “If you’ll follow me, we have a few guest rooms behind the temple gardens, one of which I use as my office. A tad bit of a mess, I hadn’t expected an audience of any kind. I do hope you'll forgive this tired old man.” He chuckled darkly, heartrate above normal.

To’Wrathh gave polite apologies but remained adamant about speaking now. She needed answers. While she had time to plan ahead, that time was still finite and ticking away day by day.

The two crusaders followed behind the pair, eyes never leaving her back. Despite the city having long ago given up and complied with her rule, the imperial church remained stubborn. Their current cooperation with her was only because she had outright forced it. Inside her mind, she quietly reminded herself that it didn't count as threatening people if she didn't pull her swords out and point them at throats. It was only implied that she could do so.

Inside the small guesthouse, she found the priest’s office. A round globe on the desk, which her senses immediately detected to have many mechanical parts inside to unfold the globe out into several layered cross sections. She didn’t know what artwork was inside exactly, but it was likely to be well made given the craftsmanship.

The priest sat in his chair, and waved a hand for her to take a seat as well. The two crusaders silently followed inside, standing at attention behind To’Wrathh. She didn’t feel any fear, her combat suite would activate faster than they could swing at her. Even if they did connect, they couldn’t deal enough damage to her shields to knock her out of the fight before their element of surprise was gone.

She didn’t know why they followed her in given that they both knew how useless the gesture was, but humans were not always rational actors as she’d discovered over her time. Most times it had been outright annoying to deal with, but occasionally they could be charming creatures as a result, To'Wrathh conceded. Keith was an excellent example of th-- why was she thinking about that? 

To'Wrathh shook her head and focused on the task at hand, composing her features. She was a Feather, and Feathers needed to be dignified. 

“Now then, Lady To’Wrathh, what business brought you here?” The priest asked, after sitting down on his chair with a creak.

“Approximately seven hundred years ago, records of a human empire exist within the machine archives along with documentation on the war that happened between. I have recovered that information recently and have been sorting through it.”

The room instantly grew silent. The priest’s eyes widening. The crusaders took it in stride without even flinching, but To’Wrathh could detect their increased heartbeats.

 She wasn’t sure why her opening statement had such an effect. Was this humans being weird again?

“I see.” The priest said after a pause. “Doctrine has long claimed that the empire had existed, though we don't have any actual records or knowledge from that time period. We hadn’t considered the machines were also holding onto knowledge as well.”

To’Wrathh blinked. “Are you interested in the documents and media uncovered from the imperial empire? The recent dive has returned around seven petabytes of information.”

A candled flickered in the room for a moment, while the three imperials remained silent.

“S-s-seven petabytes?!” The priest stammered, the spell broken, leaning across the desk. All thoughts about who he was talking to gone. “Of complete evidence that the empire actually existed? And from the machine point of view?!”

“That is correct. Seventy three percent of the current data haul is video format, eighteen percent is audio format, and the remaining nine percent is text and image format.”

The priest looked just about ready to have a heart attack. Breathing was far too heavy, and he looked outright about to reach out and yank To’Wrathh forward. “Actual live video footage of the empire in it’s full glory?!”

To’Wrathh was starting to feel annoyed at the redundant statements. “That is correct. As I have already stated, the archive we gathered contains various media formats of a human imperial empire that stretched across most of the world. This is not myth, it is recognized fact. The machine archive does not store misleading media.”

She was starting to worry the human might start frothing at the mouth, or drooling on the table. 

That would not be adorable or cute.

The two crusaders were clearly going through motions of their own, only trying their hardest to hide it. The priest on the other hand was finally reaching back to lucidity, leaning back onto his seat, covering his mouth with a pensive and dignified nod while trying hard to calm down.

“Yes, yes of course.” He said. “I’m sorry to annoy you with this, Lady To’Wrathh. You have to understand the context - we have very little that remains of the old empire, other than passed down relics and scrolls. The golden goddess passed down scriptures and history, but that was only long after the empire had been gone. All of which could have been fabricated. The search for true evidence of the empire has been something that has plagued our religion since its inception. And our detractors often point to our lack of evidence as proof that our foundation is faulty. You are stating that not only do you have proof of our foundation, but a lot of it - and it’s from a credible uncompromised source that shows a completely alternate side of history almost no humans could possibly uncover. Lady To’Wrathh, were you not a Feather and a machine, I believe you would have been hailed as a saint and angel sent by the golden goddess herself.”

“Tsuya, you mean?”

“Tsyu---ya?” The priest asked, not quite understanding. Then his eyes widened. “You know the goddess’s name? But no one knows her name… wait - the archives you’ve recovered, does that mean they include her?!”

She nodded. “Yes, she appears approximately 12,873,111 times, given an average definition of appearance. She was very active in leading the defense against Relinquished, the machine ruler. Tsuya is addressed as a goddess according to machines and humans alike.”

This time it was the crusaders that couldn’t keep their composure.

When they reached the topic of the emperor, all three had to take a full ten minute break to talk among each other. Their talks had little to do with planning anything and mostly wild excitement, even while not being in the room she knew since the walls were not built to defend against a Feather's audio-sensor suite. Why they needed to take a break just for this To'Wrathh couldn't understand.

Humans were awfully strange creatures sometimes.

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They hadn’t been thrilled to find out that Tsuya was an AI. 

Even if she had been human once. They’d thought of her more as a divinity in the mythical sense, a god with powers beyond human comprehension. On the same level as the Deathless.

Discovering that their god was not all-powerful and outright the underdog against Relinquished had been a very bitter pill for them to swallow.

The rest of the information had been far better received, especially discovering that the emperor was ironically more than a figurehead, but instead far closer to an actual deity in the mythical sense.

The priest was already making calls and planning to send out copies of the data to the nearby imperial chapters. To’Wrathh warned them to prepare precautions against capture, but otherwise saw little reason to keep such information hidden from the human imperials.

Besides, she wanted their cooperation. They seemed ready to give her anything she could ask for in exchange.

“As for the main objective I’ve come to discuss with you, it has to do with Tsuya. During the war against the empire, the first Feathers were created in an attempt to counter the Emperor’s powers. It worked, and they eventually defeated him. However, shortly after the full machine victory the proto-feathers grew disgusted at the slaughter they were tasked to perform and rebelled.”

The priest nodded. Eyes fully focused. “They rebelled, as you are reported to have done?”

To’Wrathh nodded. “Yes. All of them."

The tactitian had been the only exception, but he hadn't been listed as a proto-feather in the archives. It seemed Relinquished considered that title to be a dark mark on any record and had instead categorized A57 as the first and only Feather of the official first generation.

"The protofeather composition resembles my own, and I followed in their footsteps as a result." To'Wrathh strongly suspected Mother had hoped she would become another tactician, like the original before her. Perhaps she thought that with To'Aacar as a mentor and guide she would follow the 'right' path. 

Mother had miscalculated quite seriously, then.

"The first thing the protofeathers did in their rebellion was to communicate with Tsuya and reach a method of hiding themselves from Relinquished.”

“... Then you came to us to speak to the golden goddess, as your predecessors have before you?” The priest asked. 

She nodded. “It is as you say. I need to speak to your goddess and request the same treatment she offered the protofeathers - only to be given to my people and myself. I would like to request the audience to be soon, within the day if possible.”

At that the priest frowned. “I wish I could help you, and I sincerely mean it when I say this Lady To’Wrathh. I would love nothing more than to follow the footsteps of my goddess and assist you in your own rebellion. But unfortunately... the church does not have any means to communicating with our goddess. We can only follow the scriptures she left behind. Many in the world don’t believe she exists at all.”

This was not going as she had hoped. “Is there some other means you know of?”

“If there were, we would have discovered it. Or perhaps the ones higher up the chain have already, only they could be keeping it secret to protect the goddess. I've heard whispers of a hidden chapter among the crusaders, known as the Indagator Mortis. I do not know exactly, I am but a priest in this church.” 

He waved to the two crusaders in the back. One of which turned his gaze to To'Wrathh, and then nodded slowly. "They exist." He confirmed. "I am not in their order, however I do know of their chapter. There is a means to contact them."

She was about to ask more details when a ping alerted her. It hadn’t come from Yrob, nor her army.

It came from outside.

The message itself was simple, a polite notice of appearance. 

What worried To’Wrathh wasn’t the contents, but the sender. The ping had originated from the machine network. The identification listed a single name.

To’Sefit. 

To'Wrathh stood, gave a polite farewell, and then immediately left the stunned imperials. She'd learned her lessons already, the Winterscar motto raged in her mind: Never suffer a fair fight. 

The message had stated the Feather would arrive within the hour. There was little time to prepare for the intruder, and she needed everything she could get her hands on now. 

Pings were sent from her, rousing her army. A message sent to General Zaang to marshal his own troops. She'd have sent a message to Yrob, except the Runner was too far outside the city to safely reach. It could be intercepted. 

There was still one more thing she could do to push down on the scale: Weapons.

She shifted her course and zipped through the air, directly to the only location that would have what she needed. 

Made by the only weaponsmith who considered 'fair-play' a dirty word: 

Keith's Workshop.