Desiks was raised from sleep with a sharp kick. Instantly she pushed back the urge to cower into a ball.

"Up, dreg!"

She scrambled to her feet, grogginess stuffing her head. "Eia, eia, I am rising—"

Another kick, sending Desiks to the ground again. "You're too slow, kasina," he barked. "You're on watch. Go, now, before my foot finds you again!"

She got up out of his reach, trying not to stumble into the stirring forms of her fellow dregs. The pain in her side would go away, but these were her friends and they needed their sleep. She moved to take her blanket. Memiks narrowed all four eyes and kicked her down again, and she bit her lip to restrain a cry in pain, her fangs drawing blood. "Come on, you worthless piece of flesh and chitin, get up!" he mocked, but another voice roared from outside the tight dreghollow, stirring the other dregs. It was the voice of Captain Eriks. Memiks scowled and Dresiks snatched up her blanket from the ground and sprinted away, dodging his glowering gaze.

It was not her turn for watch. Desiks growled once she knew she was out of earshot. Memiks was a sour Marauder who had been denied Captainship once for his twisted lower arm, and now his anger boiled constantly above his dreg subordinates. The fact that she had rejected his attentions when he had been a dreg did not help things.

Desiks scrambled out of the dreghollow, moving around the aboveground dwellings of the higher Eliksni. The faintest tinges of brightness shone on the horizon, and the watchtower stood out as a spike of messily-welded iron on top of the hill in the center of the settlement. With dexterity granted by her small size, she easily scrambled up the tower, ignoring the ache in her side. She plopped herself on the topmost platform with its mounted wire rifle and sidled up the metal wall, swinging the ragged blanket around her.

She chittered and shivered. It was spring, but winter chill still remained this high up. Her side stung, but she there was nothing she could do about it other than avoid antagonizing it. Desiks brushed straw from her shoulder-length white-speckled-black hair. It was her most prized possession, she having grew it ever since they had been driven off Venus. Her beauty was noted, despite her status, and the only thing that protected her from the abuses of dreg-souled wretches like Memiks was the constant companionship of her friends, the other dregs of Winter. And Lady Aphix, of course, but she wasn't always around.

No, the Lady's work in the catacombs kept her far too busy to be the outward head of House Winter. In fact, Desiks considered, she hadn't seen the Lady much in the years since they had been driven off Venus. Desiks shivered once, pulling the blanket tighter around her and considered actually doing her job. Keeping watch was important, she couldn't deny that, just last week another Eliksni raiding party had been sighted, and after they had been driven away the watchman responsible for the callout had been given extra ether.

She hissed a sigh, then scooted forward, taking the grip of the wire rifle, looking through its two-eyed scope. She surveyed the approach to the House of Winter's valley, secreted among the mountain passes. They had given up the nomadic lifestyle, their last Ketch gathering dust in the far end of the valley, in exchange for the fortified nature of the valley. They did not face much conflict, the Servitors were in good condition, and their numbers were beginning to increase again. Desiks had considered joining that particular endeavor, having and raising kiks, but there was none she knew in Winter that she knew worthy of her attentions! Or they were above her station… Desiks sat back and huffed. One day she knew the choice would be taken from her, and that fact ate at her.

The radio on her tower blipped, making her jump. She scrambled to answer it. "Eia? Desiks up here."

A machine-aided voice returned. "Captain Sarak here. Any signs?"

She shifted self-consciously, even though she knew the scarred Captain couldn't see her, suddenly very grateful she had been checking. "No, no, nothing seen. Just a beautiful morning, yes?" She slapped herself mentally. Beautiful morning? Had she really just said that.

A pleased grunt. "Eia." A pause. "It is not your turn for watch."

Desiks gulped nervously. "No. Marauder Memiks, um, woke and sent me."

A longer pause. Captain Sarak was very thoughtful, and that was one reason Desiks liked him. The other was that he was very large. "Stay up until midsun. After, come to me. I know the Baroness doesn't approve of such actions."

"Eia, uh, of course!" The Captain hung up, and Desiks took a deep breath, gingerly putting the receiver back. That had gone… better than she had feared. And she would be working with Captain Sarak later! Maybe this might be a good day after all. Desiks snugged the blanket around her and leaned back onto the rifle's stock. Now, only nothing had to happen for her good day to come.

…

The last Baroness of Winter rose early. The silver curtains didn't so much as rustle as she passed, and she dressed quickly and simply, ignoring pains. Her maidens continued to try to rise earlier than she, but last night the Lady had sabotaged their personal alarms. They would get the rest they needed. Her archon, however, hadn't been quite so easy to slip past; her daily dose of medicated ether lay on her bedside panel. She narrowed two eyes and took the draught with shaking hands, the foul-tasting rush of energy pushing back the creeping disease in her heart.

Her side-swinging braid only took minutes to weave, four hands working in tandem. Aphix remembered when it had taken half of an hour. The bare concrete walls and floor of the ancient human structure had been hidden as much as possible by swaths of cloth of various colors, light blues and hues of cyan dominant. She took her walking cane from its place by the door and left her room, white robes brushing the smooth human-made floor as gently as snow touching the tops of trees. The guards outside her room, Captains both, jumped at her exit, but she waved and they ceased further action. They knew better than to try and stop her.

But when she reached the ancient elevator, Sarlixx was waiting there for her. Aphix closed all four eyes briefly. Of course they had informed him. The Last Baron of Winter stood over nine feet tall, a vast array of arc weapons on his sides and back, a human rocket launcher casually swung to one side. She had told him… ah, what had she expected. The habits of the warlike faded slowly.

"My Lady," he intoned, stooping to hold out his hand to her as the doors opened; he knew where she wanted to go.

"Thank you, Sarlixx," she replied, nodding graciously to the Baron. They entered the elevator together, it apparently having been made for more than humans as it was large enough to fit Sarlixx's bulk. It shuddered and began the descent, the machinery having been recently repaired by the best of Winter's Splicers. She did not miss the stairs.

He cleared his throat gruffly. "Ah, Lady. You slept well, yes?"

"As well as can be expected." She looked to him, closing two eyes. "Thank you for inquiring." He nodded distractedly, probably already trying to string the next bunch of words together in a polite order. He was still getting used to elite mannerisms, having until recently been the roughest of Eliksni, but he had been improving markedly as of late.

The elevator descended quietly as the Baron struggled for words. "You, uh… your heart is not troubling you?"

"Not as much." Then she looked up at him. "How is your crew faring? Are they getting along with my people?"

He seemed taken aback by the question, and her direct attention. "Well… my Captains say that everything is well. I have not personally, uh…"

"Seen any trouble?" she offered.

He was relieved at the suggestion, nodding. "Eia." But instead of settling for that and finding a new conversation, he seemed to actually consider the topic. Aphix blinked. That was new. "Some of uh… them miss the old ways. The fight is in their blood."

"Remember, Baron, that what you term the old ways were once the new, savage ways. Remember, yes? You were young, I remember, but you were there, yes. We were once a people of peace."

He rasped a sigh. "Yes, Lady, you are right, even if I do not remember. But…"

She laughed lightly. "You miss Draksis."

Sarlixx backtracked furiously. "That is not what… What I…" He suddenly stifled a particularly harsh oath and switched to Lower speech. "We of the Lixx Wintership miss the seeking of adventure. The risk, the reward, the loot!" His confidence noticeably grew, with the language he was familiar with, as well in that she wasn't objecting to him using it. "We want to fight again, Lady Aphix! There are many places close to here that we can raid, and it can only bolster our strength, your strength, Winter's strength!" She raised a hand and Sarlixx realized how loud his voice had become in the confined space. He shrunk slightly, and switched to High speech. "Apologies. I did not mean to insinuate you are a not-good leader, Lady Aphix."

The doors opened with a ping, and Aphix left the elevator promptly, forcing the huge Eliksni to all but scurry after her. "My dear Sarlixx, that is exactly what you are implying." She turned the corner, the harsh blue light of glowrods illuminating the bare construction of the hallway. "I remain here, not seeking such things as you value, but instead preserving the things that I value. And one of those values is this;" She reached up and tugged on one of Sarlixx's ethermask spines, pulling his head down. She met his surprised eyes. "Strength is not always taken. Sometimes it is grown."

Aphix let go, and he straightened abashedly. She shook her head. "No, my dear Baron, my work here is too valuable to risk. If you were to raid someone strong enough to retaliate, would we, weak remnant that we are, be strong enough to stop them? And what would Cabal, or humans, think of my treasures? They would not understand, and destroy them like they do us, yes."

"Eia, Lady, that is undoubtable. It is just…" He shrugged his massive shoulders, sending armor clanking. "Pardon me, but it is just that I fear I do not understand either."

She took a deep breath. "Well, the fact that you dare to wonder shows something, Sarlixx. I did not tell you when you returned for that reason; you would not understand, and there would be a divide between us."

He protested that. "No, my Lady, I would never rebel against you! We are Winter, and you were close to my mother. She loved you, and so must I."

Aphix nodded. "Yes, I do not doubt your loyalty to your mother. Grayris was one of the best of us, before…" She forced a breath, stopping before the final door. "Before the Maw took her." She shook her head to dispel the sorrowful silence, keying her code into the Eliksni locking mechanism installed beside the door. "Regardless. You do not understand me, Sarlixx."

"No, my Lady," he admitted.

"Would you then try to?" The door opened, and Aphix faced the large Baron, inviting him to follow her inside. He seemed surprised; he was used to leaving her here at the doorway.

"You would… allow me entrance?"

She closed two eyes. "You have never wondered the exact nature of my work?"

"Oh, Lady, I have," he nodded enthusiastically like a kiko.

Aphix chuckled and strode inside. "Come then. I'll show you." She turned away from him, but heard his heavy footsteps come quickly after her. "Close the door behind you, quickly. Too much moisture is not favorable." He did so, and darkness covered them. She reached out and turned on the lights, dimly illuminating the massive chamber, cut straight from the stone of the mountain. All across the floor, held upright gently by support structures, lay narrow panel-like things covered by expanses of cloth.

"What… are those?" asked Sarlixx hesitantly.

"Our past, Baron." She strode over to her current work of restoration, cane clicking on the smooth rock. She gently uncovered the vast canvas.

"A… painting?" the Winter Baron stated with audible confusion.

"The First Assemblage, by Takilis, the Third of Dawn," she intoned, turning on the focus lights. It illuminated the scene, one she had memorized. It showed a great hall, filled with banners of all colors and Eliksni in ancient, grand robes. They were led by a large figure in a crimson coat who was confronting another in violet robes.

Sarlixx knelt. "Winter, Stone, Rain, Devils, Iron, Wolves, Storms…" With each name, Sarlixx's rough voice softened as awe settled in, until he stopped altogether. "Are those… all of the Houses?"

Aphix nodded. "Eia. All, save Scar. They were still rogue at that time. They doubted the Machine's intentions."

"I… I do not know some of those House symbols."

Aphix reached out and touched the metal frame reverently. "Eia, very few do, anymore. So many were destroyed during the Whirlwind. Some, like Rain, are no longer recognizable."

"What is happening?"

"The head of House Devils, Teamiks, is securing his House's rights under this new unification. He confronts Yarious of Rain, She Who Spoke for the Great Machine." There was a deep silence,

"So, when you spoke of your great work and treasure, this is what you meant."

"Eia. I have collected them, saved them." She pointed at the charred area of canvas in the lower left corner. "When Skolas wrested control of Winter, it was damaged. They are ancient besides, and even the advanced materials they were made from are beginning to degrade."

"Wait, Lady… You say, that this… this is from the Golden Age?" His eyes didn't move from the canvas, wonder seeping through his rough words. "I can barely believe that this existed when the Machine was yet with us."

She reached out with her upper arm and took his lower, his weapon-roughened hands almost scraping her smooth palms. "Eia. Come. I will show you something yet more amazing." She led him to the back of the room, where a shrouded figure almost as tall as Sarlixx was, sat covered. "Please, remove the covering."

He did so with advanced reverence, for which she was grateful. Under the cloth cover sat a statue of an Eliksni. He was cut out of black stone, ran through with veins of gold, and the figure was powerful even as age and decay sought to crack and fade him. He looked towards the sky, eyes narrowed in determination, arms and legs posed as if ready to rush to attack or braced to defend. In one hand he held the broken ruin of a long, curved sword. In another hand he welded an incredibly complex network of metal in the shape of an unknown energy.

Not only was the sword broken, but a lower arm was missing, snapped at the base of the shoulder. Some of the finer details had been worn away by weathering, and Aphix internally lamented that she had no idea how to repair that.

"Who… is that?" asked Sarlixx with slow confusion.

Aphix took several moments to reply. She looked up at the statue, emotions filling her. Despite herself, she reached out and touched the stone base. It was cold, smooth, and old. It was older than the Fallen. This stone remembered the time when the Eliksni had been more, and so did Aphix. "His name was Taniks the First, the Warbreaker."

"Wait, named like the Scarred?"

"He was that cursed being's ancestor. This statue was recovered from the ruins of Elik-ha itself, before the departure."

Sarlixx nodded, looking back to the stone figure. "Who was he?"

Aphix didn't reply. Her grandmother had told Aphix the statue's story when she had been a kika. It had filled her with such hope, a hope that had since been dashed to pieces. Where it had once been was now something more basic; the need to survive. The Traveler would never choose them again, and her life had been better after she had chosen to accept that. But there was no harm in stories.

"The last of the Skaith warlords, the founder of the reign of Elders." She moved away from the statue, standing beside Sarlixx again, watching his reaction. "He was a great warrior and leader, inspiring our race before the Machine's arrival. His story is… incredible." Aphix pitched her voice low, deliberate. Waiting.

Sarlixx's gaze did not leave the stone figure for several long moments, and the small hope inside her grew. Then, he simply nodded. "Interesting."

Aphix deflated slowly, leaning on her cane. "Eia."

"Is this all you have down here?"

"No." She sighed. It seemed she would have to take a more direct route. "There is more. As much as I would prefer that more art survived, I have literature and music as well. But that is not, I think, what you would be interested in seeing, yes?"

Sarlixx laughed and turned away from the statue. "You know me better than I supposed, Lady."

She led the way to the side of the cavern, lined with shelves. "Ah, it's not so hard. When Winter was forced to become a House of warriors, I had to grow used to it quickly. Eliksni used to be much more diverse in our interests."

"Yes, you've mentioned it before, Lady." There was a slight air of exasperation to his tone, but she was impressed his patience had lasted so long. She had learned quickly that the longest lecture the Baron could possibly take was a meeting of battle strategy.

They reached the wall and its long shelves, interspersed with counters and solidly-built drawers. Sarlixx looked with mild curiousity at the metal-bound codices and lines of database housings as Aphix, with effort, pulled open one of the drawers. "This is what I wanted to show you." The Baron leaned over, and his eyes grew wide. Aphix took a breath and lifted the first sword from its place in the padded drawer. She handed the long weapon to him, and he took it, breath held.

With a single fluid movement Sarlixx unsheathed it with a reverberating ring. He held the blade up before his eyes, and even in the dull yellow lights it shone with reflected brilliance. It was not like the bulky shockblades sheathed at his waist, short cutlass-like cleavers of rough metal, but instead it was elegantly narrow, slightly curved, and distinctly other. It was forged from a white metal, and the edge was slightly blued. There was no cross or grip-guard, simply a small diamond of metal set at the top of the three-handed hilt.

"What wonder is this?" Sarlixx breathed, gently moving the sword through the air, testing its weight.

"It is named the Winter's Edge. A gift from before the Whirlwind to our House, and I have seen it safe through the ages after."

Sarlixx took up a two-handed stance, bending his knees and looking out to the cavern as if seeing imaginary foes. He swung it several times, the blade humming as it cut the air. He inspected the grip briefly, and found a switch there. The large Baron almost jumped in excitement, but then looked to Aphix sheepishly.

She closed two eyes. "You may use some of its power. We have ways of recharging-" Before she could finish the sentence, golden lightning leapt up the blade of Winter's Edge, eagerly snapping and crackling at the air as if seeking a target.

Sarlixx laughed, a booming sound. "It's beautiful! What I would give for a shipful of weapons such as this!"

Aphix did not laugh with him, opening all four eyes again. "Eia, it is beautiful." She let him swing it several more times, like a kiko with a brand-new stick, before reaching out for it. He looked at her, then back at the sword. He sighed, then sheathed it, the energy along its length going out. She set her cane down, then took the blade and held it reverently with all four arms. "These are more than just weapons, however. It was a symbol of a specific promise, and those who wielded such things took upon themselves that same promise."

Sarlixx cocked his head. "What… was its promise?"

"That there would never again be war between the Houses of Winter and Scar."

He nodded. "Eia, the broken treaty."

"Eia, by us, Sarlixx. Winter broke the promise."

He quieted at that, looking down at Winter's Edge with a strange look in his eyes. Desire, tempered by solemnity. "Then what, my lady? What will become of it?"

Aphix set it back in the drawer reverently. "It will stay here, until someone worthy of its power comes and makes a new promise."

"But, my lady!" he protested. "It is only gathering dust, being unused like that, ah, um…-"

"Who shall wield it, then? I am weak, and never was a warrior." She paused, then regarded the desperate Baron narrowly. "Would you put yourself forward as worthy of such a weapon?"

He blinked, and she could see him thinking hard for a response. The warrior Baron was still for several moments, something she knew was rare for him. Then, he knelt, weapons swinging. He spoke the Low Speech, but with great care and reverence. "With respect, lady. From what you say, it is not the warrior that must be worthy of the weapon."

She raised a brow, but let him continue.

"What is worthy, is the promise that is made, yes?" Sarlixx bowed his head. "I am not worthy. But I will take any promise."

She regarded him. "For this weapon, it is not the strength of an arm that is measured, but of the resolve of the wielder." She continued. "The breaking of this promise has serious weight, Sarlixx of Winter," she warned. "In the ancient days, it was punishable by banishment or death. But even though I have no such power over you, Baron, I have seen how the breaking of promises harms the soul of the oathbreaker." He met her eyes, firm, and she continued. "Dissolution, despair, cruelty; I have seen all of these, and experienced the consequences as well. You understand?"

He looked down, resigning himself. "You know how weak I am, my Lady. I leave it to your choice."

"Know also, that you will not know the exact nature of the promise until after you have accepted it?"

Sarlixx's eyes widened slightly at that, then they narrowed again. "Eia."

Aphix narrowed two eyes. She lifted the sword from the drawer again. To his credit, Sarlixx contained his surprise well. "I, Aphix of Winter, will be the forger of this promise-bond." She turned, and drew the blade in a single movement. She brought the blade up, held in three hands, the point reaching towards the rocky ceiling. "Sarlixx of Winter, so long as you accept and keep the forthcoming promise, this blade shall be yours, until the promise is fulfilled or you have met your end. Do you accept the terms?"

She saw Sarlixx pause, forcing himself not to rush in with hasty words. Then, he nodded heavily, eyes wide and anxious. "Eia. Upon my heart, I do."

Aphix lowered the sword, breaths becoming heavier at the exertion of keeping it steady. But she hid her weakness, as much as she could. Furiously, she thought back to rituals she had studied so very long ago. They had fascinated her at the time, but… Aphix mentally shook herself. He would not know if she did it wrong.

Moving with the utmost deliberation, she touched the side of Sarlixx's head. "Mind, to always remember the promise." She drew it back, and tapped at a foot. "Feet, to walk in the Light." She touched his hands. "Hands, that they may act rightly." She took a breath, steady. Lastly, she brought the blade to rest on his chest. "Heart. To see clearly." With every touch, Sarlixx's eyes followed the white sword, but he did not move. Then, with great care, she turned the blade over in her hands, then held the hilt out to him.

Sarlixx blinked, expecting further words, but reached out and took it. With Winter's Edge no longer weighing on her, Aphix almost stumbled, but Sarlixx reached out a lower arm to steady her. Taking deep breaths, she tried to remain standing, forcing the pain from her mind. Sarlixx looked on in concern, but she continued. "This is the promise." Then a bolt of agony shot through her, and Aphix collapsed. Sarlixx dropped the sword and caught her easily, her weight not even an inconvenience for the Baron.

"My Lady!"

She coughed, pain shooting through every limb. "Sarlixx, my-" Her voice caught in her throat, but he understood. Still kneeling, he removed the mask from his face and held it to hers, releasing the stop. Vaporized ether flooded her system. She took several deep breaths, then held up a hand. Sarlixx took it away, eyes darting urgently. Aphix reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a small vial. She downed it in one draught, forcing it down before coughing violently, and Sarlixx hesitantly laid her on the cold stone of the vault. He moved to speak, but didn't, and she took several more deep breaths, feeling the pain recede again.

Aphix took several deep breaths, forcing her heart rate to go down. "Thank you for your assistance, Baron." He didn't reply yet, still wary. He had stood, as if to run for aid, but he knelt again beside her. Aphix sat up, and he helped her to her feet. Quickly, he picked up her cane and handed it over. She took it gratefully and leaned on it. She considered what had happened for a moment, then closed two eyes and looked up at him. "Take up your blade, we are not done." He did so. "You claim to be unworthy, Baron of Winter. How many times could you have killed me today?"

He cocked his head at that. "What… what do you mean? I would not do such a thing."

"And that is why you are better than so many of our Fallen brethren. And why I feel you can take this promise. Are you ready?"

"Eia? Are you sure you're-"

"Quiet."

"Yes, my lady."

Then she knelt in front of him, and held Winter's Edge, her hands on his. She leaned forward and put her head on his massive shoulder. "Protect the Eliksni. This is all I ask." He was shocked by her touch, but relaxed quickly. "You have proven your worth, son of Winter. Now prove your heart."

His voice was raspy. "I… thank you."

They remained like that a moment longer. Then Aphix stood, leaning again on her cane. Sarlixx rose as well, sheathing Winter's Edge. He spoke again. "And thank you for showing me your work, lady Aphix." He looked around at covered paintings and neatly ordered codices, settling his mask back over his face. "Perhaps one day, you can show me more of our past."

She closed two eyes. "I would like that very much."

A buzzing came from Sarlixx's radio. His eyes narrowed and he jerked it off its place. "Eia? Better be important, yes."

"Baron! A report from the watchtower!"

Aphix stiffened, and Sarlixx unconsciously settled into a lower stance.

"What do they see."

"Uh… they want to speak to Lady Aphix!"

"What?"

Aphix approached him, curiosity rising. "Let them speak. I am listening."

A very nervous voice came through the comms, female. "Ah, my lady, are you there?"

"Eia. Speak."

"This is Desiks from the watchtower, and I have been… uh, reached out to by someone… well…"

"Calm yourself, little one," Aphix said, narrowing two eyes. She remembered Desiks, the pretty dreg who worked hard. "Speak slowly, I will not judge, yes?"

"Eai, eia. Thank you, my lady. A very good idea, slowing words." An audible breath. "Some comes, wanting to meet with you under a flag of truce."

"Are they Eliksni?" Sarlixx virtually barked the words, and Aphix shot a narrow glance at him as the voice on the other end gave a faint yeep of fear. He didn't seem to notice.

"Eia, eia! She calls herself Miriks, of-"

"What House?" interrupted Sarlixx.

Aphix looked up at the ceiling. "Cease your harsh tone, Sarlixx, can't you hear the Eliksa is scared?"

He winced and nodded a small bow. "Eia, sorry, lady."

"Now then," Aphix stated, voice comforting. "My dear Wintress, what House did they say they were with?"

"Well, lady, you see, that's the odd thing, yes?" A nervous laugh, giddy and very much still fearful. "You see, she claims to be the Kell of Stone."