Chapter 17: Sebastian of the Order of the Deathless

Nathan walked home bored and listless. Even passing through Elderrow stirred nothing special in him; he didn't so much as spare a second glance for the distinctively styled buildings or the bloodborn coming and going on the street.

As he neared his own neighborhood, he suddenly heard a savage wind whipping at the air up high. A spike of warning went through him, and he hastily fired up his black-light vitae to shroud his whole body.

A massive body came flying through the air—thrown by someone—passed right through his body, and slammed into a nearby trash can, blowing it to pieces, garbage strewn everywhere.

Shaken to the bone, Nathan looked up. A man in a casual white suit, moving with an air of unhurried ease, was strolling toward him, a person gripped in his hand, throttled by the throat one-handed, held as effortlessly as a man lifting a kitten.

Nathan glanced back on reflex—and then he knew. The one just thrown at him, and the one being strangled by the man in the white suit: he knew them both.

The one thrown was the fierce hulk; the one dangling by the throat was the sinister middle-aged man in the old army-surplus jacket—the Raging Gale's two unlucky ghosts. He'd actually thought these two were pretty formidable. Who knew they'd first get handled by Granny Rowan without effort, and now get dispatched just as easily by the white-suit man—utter pushovers, both of them.

Nathan might have practiced the Ennead Crucible and opened two bloodways, but in actual combat he was definitely no match for those two Raging Gale fighters—and therefore even less of a match for the white-suit man who'd settled them so casually. This person was obviously here for him. Every alarm went off at once, and he asked reflexively, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man in the casual white suit, that unhurried ease about him, smiled faintly. "I'm Sebastian, of the Order of the Deathless."

Bits of bloodborn-world common knowledge came back to Nathan, and he blurted in alarm: "You're a human magus—from the Order of the Deathless, one of the Eighteen Towers? I'm a chartered bloodborn of the Concord! You can't kill me!"

Within the Commonwealth, the Concord stood alone at the top, its policies relatively moderate; it had struck countless agreements with the human Art world, creating an environment of peaceful coexistence. Outside the Commonwealth, the Four Hosts headed the League of Kindred—dozens of bloodborn organizations banded together—opposing the Eighteen Towers and the Hidden Order lineages of the West, with bloody clashes and even outright wars breaking out nonstop.

Still, knowing he had the Concord as his protective charm didn't stop Nathan's nerves from jangling in front of a member of the Eighteen Towers—bloodborn-slaying was their profession. His terror was that the man would throw caution to the winds and strike him down on the spot; the Concord might help him get payback afterward, but he'd still be dead.

Sebastian flashed a brilliant smile, his face suddenly warm as sunshine. "I'm hardly going to offend a colossus like the Concord just to kill some irrelevant little guy. Poking the Concord is no fun. I've come to find you because I heard you awakened the Yggdrasil Line!"

Nathan wanted to say no—but one look at the fierce hulk and the sinister man, now utterly without breath or sound, and he didn't dare lie. He said quietly: "They all say I awakened the Yggdrasil Line. I don't actually know if it's true myself."

Nathan had hoped to vague it out and slip past the whole thing, but the white-suit man, Sebastian, gave a light laugh. "The Concord's Godstone doesn't make mistakes. You awakened the Yggdrasil Line, period. As it happens, I could use your help. Come with me."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Sebastian tossed the sinister man aside, and a sheet of black smoke poured smoothly from his sleeve, settling over the man's body.

Nathan sneaked one look and his hair stood on end: that black cloud was made of countless beetles. Very soon a crunching, rustling sound rose from it, and in a dozen-odd seconds the sinister man had been eaten clean—not so much as a bone chip left. Even gorged, the black beetles weren't done; they turned into a burst of black smoke and pounced on the silent fierce hulk. Another wave of that rustling crunch rose, before you could blink...

Ice ran down Nathan's spine, his gaze frozen, and he blurted before he could stop himself: "They're dead—just like that?"

Sebastian roared with laughter. "Of course they're dead! Our Eighteen Towers have an agreement with the Concord—we can't harm Concord-chartered bloodborn. But we have no agreement with the Four Hosts or that grab bag of other bloodborn outfits. Meet them on the street, of course we kill them. They died by my hand? Blame their lousy strength. That weak and still running around loose—when they die, that's on nobody else, right?"

Nathan just nodded along, automatically. Of course he thought the whole thing was wrong—but where would he find the guts to argue with Sebastian? As long as the man wasn't going to kill him, everything else was negotiable.

Sebastian made a casual clutching gesture, and the black beetles—done with the fierce hulk—rose into the air, becoming a wisp of pale black smoke that settled into his sleeve. The acolyte of the Order of the Deathless, one of the Eighteen Towers, gathered his beetles, regarded Nathan with a smiling face, and said: "Come with me to Elderrow."

Nathan didn't dare resist in the slightest. He trailed obediently behind Sebastian as the man ambled toward Elderrow like it was a Sunday stroll. Curiosity nagged at him too: what exactly did Sebastian want at a bloodborn residential zone?

Nathan still clung to a scrap of hope, thinking secretly: "Maybe, once we get to Elderrow, Granny Rowan will come out and save me. Would this guy even dare lay hands on Granny Rowan? She's one of the eighteen Between keystones of Greyhaven—the Concord's big shots must all keep an eye on that place, right? Even if Granny Rowan's no match for this guy, Lord Warden Aurelius could surely take him..."

Events proved Nathan was thinking way too much!

Sebastian walked through it like any ordinary person strolling down any ordinary street—no obstruction whatsoever. Not a soul came to check on the two of them, and Sebastian didn't provoke a single bloodborn on Elderrow. Nathan was tempted to cry for help—but one thought of those black beetles in Sebastian's sleeve ran a shiver straight through him, and he never dared entertain the idea again.

Sebastian might as well have been to Elderrow a hundred times; he made straight for the entrance of the abandoned Between Nathan was assigned to watch, like he knew the way blindfolded. Without so much as asking Nathan's opinion, he produced a bronze key and opened the ashwood gate.

Nathan patted his own pocket. Sure enough, his bronze key was gone—and the one in Sebastian's hand was very obviously his. He griped about it internally, but not a word dared leave his mouth.

This Sebastian character's powers were seriously something; Nathan was already starting to feel a bit of grudging admiration.