- THE LEVIATHAN -

Hmm.

Vargas thought this over only briefly before speaking. "You have not spoken all that much. But from what I know you have taken your own training seriously. V-Onyx-Three has looked to the forge. But this is good, for you. It is a step to do just that, to prove, to contribute. You have earned the rank of Hound, and a reward of your choice."

Vargas was matter-of-fact but in the back of his mind, he could not help but be troubled. Part was the lingering, unfamiliar fear drifting through his subconscious from the brief link. Part was... he didn't know this one.

Onyx-Two had always been quiet and severe. Anxiety was completely unexpected. It reminded him, strongly and dismayingly, of Orthoclase-Alpha: fear from nowhere, enough to overwhelm, despite a complete external stoicism.

He turned his mind back to the present, and to the task at hand.

"Did you have a reward in mind?"

V-Onyx-Two nodded. In this, at least, he was certain. In a way he was glad the Merchant had taken as long as he had; he'd asked for permission to visit the library (improving his ability to read) and looked up words and names for almost a whole day in search of a new name.

"Archon. I would like a name, and I would like my name to be Archon."

It was, in some old language of another world, some form of leader. It flowed off the tongue well enough--AR-kon--and he'd turned it over in his mind for a couple of days. He had looked at quite a few names, but this one had kept coming back to him. It felt more like him than the others.

For some unexplicable reason, he feared that Vargas would not accept. That he would laugh, or otherwise deny him--though he had no reason to believe so.

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- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas nodded. "Then your name will be Archon. It has a ring to it," he added, mulling it over. Then he shook his head, moving on already.

In his mind he was ticking off notes: Hound rank. Name: Archon. It wasn't a lot to remember, at least.

"Tell me, then, Archon. Describe the opening of Centaurus. What happened?" he asked.

Relief washed through him, and satisfaction. Archon. He had a name.

He stood a little straighter, wings flaring just a bit. A report: the Master wanted a report, and that, at least, was easy. Mindless narrative, a retelling of occurrences; no need for fear or uncertainty, here.

"When the Merchant called for aid, and a few of us headed out there--it was a few cycles ago, you remember?--we went to Hydra to meet him. He requested... magical items," he went on, trying to remember the details. He gestured vaguely now and again, as if to emphasize certain words or points. "The gemstones of the lost, or enchanted items, or spells to be cast into a stone that he carried. He said he nee--required--a catalyst," (he'd switched to a more important-sounding word) "-to 'awaken the Dreamer.' A lot of us turned up. I offered up my share, and he offered rewards. I asked for work, something that would be... important, that would take me from Draco. Not to allow me to travel without earning it," he added, meeting Vargas's eyes. This was honest enough. "But because I feel as if... I know everything there is to accomplish in Draco. I wanted to expand, if that makes sense." It felt good to be able to be honest. "Others asked for enchanted items, or special powers. I didn't--I don't remember all of them," he admitted. "There were at least a dozen others there. A great... serpent? -came, and melted a hole through the sands. Within--we saw once we'd given the Merchant enough magic--it was... empty, dark."

He paused, going over everything in his mind before continuing. It had been a couple cycles, after all--in fact, almost half a year. "It was... empty, inside. Dark--or dim, at least. A rift in the floor with Oilstone, a smaller room and tunnels beneath the cave. Buildings at the back, carved into the cave wall, with Oilstone chrysalises inside. The Dreamer was in the room underneath. On a throne, chained. In his chrysalis," he added, remembering that detail. "The Merchant awoke him with the magic--it broke the chrysalis, broke him free, though he was still chained. Then... he told us to go back into the buildings at the back, and while we were there, the 'Shapers' began to waken and go out into the cave. By the time we were allowed to leave, it was strange jungle. Cliffs. Filled with swamps," he added. So far as he knew, it still was. But he'd not yet assumed his duties, not travelled to and fro just yet, as he'd wanted permission first. Confirmation of his task.

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- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas listened, all thought of judging and gauging Onyx--Archon, he reminded himself--gone in favor of assimilating what had happened.

Centaurus had been malleable, molded cyclically, and the fact that it was awakening was meaningful. It meant that the caves were, like some great Chaos machine, slowly spinning up again: new gears turning as each cave awakened.

It meant that, soon enough, it might truly be a factory again.

He grunted and looked to Archon, granting him a curt nod. "Good. Well done. Did Hag-rh--did the Merchant," he corrected, doubting Archon knew the name, "give you specific instructions as to this, 'Emissary' task?" he asked.

It would be useful to have someone to keep tabs on the state of Centaurus. It might even be useful to arrange, in advance, any testing he'd have to do, or to put in requests as to its next state, though he did not know if the Merchant took such requests. Vargas had never been a Master in an age with an awakened Centaurus.

But by and large, it struck him as odd that he would request an emissary at all. In fact, he strongly suspected that the Merchant had, at least in part, made up an unnecessary job to fulfill Archon's request for a reward.

...And perhaps Archon knew that..?

He studied him, for a moment. I can make him work for it, he decided. In part he was amused by t he near-child getting so far in over his head without realizing it. In part, he was annoyed, that a 'reward' such as this was given without true need. And in part, he was thinking that actually being made truly useful might make this one less anxious and filled with doubt.

Let him actually accomplish something, and he'd know it. And maybe he'd get some grasp of what he was good at, or poor at, or what he was actually worth.

He flushed, his glowing red blood coming to the surface of his skin like dark fire. "...No," he admitted, quietly. "He said he would name me Emissary and speak to you about it."

He struggled to maintain that eye contact, but he couldn't, his gaze slid away, finding the floor off to one side of Vargas. That was a failure, of sorts, wasn't it-? That he'd left it to the Merchant. That he'd not come to Vargas first. He'd waited, and done nothing; it showed no initiative and no responsibility.

I've managed to land myself a job and I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing, he thought miserably. What was that worth, to anyone..?

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- THE LEVIATHAN -

He'd sort of expected that, from the conversation so far.

"He left you rather high and dry, did he not?" Vargas remarked. "Do not worry, Archon, I will not judge you for that. You have done well in seeking out a task to fulfill to aid our cause, and more still in seeking further tasks beyond. Tell me, do you know the purpose of Centaurus?" he asked, curious.

How much of his questioning, of his hopeful ambition, had struck to the core of his would-be work? Vargas could already rather tell that he had no idea what Centaurus entailed, but... polite to ask, to be sure. Polite, and practical, so he didn't repeat anything Archon already knew.

He was bolstered briefly by the Master's reassurance, only to be crushed again by the next question and his total lack of answer to it. Less panicked than he could have been, given Vargas's even tone and calm acknowledgment of how he'd been rather neglected in terms of being granted information, but still.

"No," he answered, a little more quietly.

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- THE LEVIATHAN -

He exhaled, sitting down on massive haunches. It was, admittedly, a bit irritating that this was increasing his workload rather than relieving it, for the moment. And it was something Archon should have asked about before, to the Merchant if not to Vargas himself.

He ran his mind over what he remembered, and set himself to explaining.

"Centaurus is shaped--usually every cycle--by its Shapers, guided by the Dreamer. It's used to simulate other worlds, other environments; Valkhounds and their designs are tested--were tested there. And will be again, it seems. The forms the cave may take vary! Sometimes it is ocean, sometimes desert. Sometimes it is a city, a civilization. A new design or an established one might be taken there to test it in a specific environment. Then the Masters would tailor it," he added, realizing this would now be his task even as he said it, "if it required it. And sometimes it was used for training individuals whose designs were approved, but who had yet to be sent away."

He considered, wondering how to apply any of this to an 'emissary,' but he'd already determined to at the very least drown Archon with busywork.

"Your task, I think, will be to check its status at the start of every cycle, and report back to me so that we know what is available. You will monitor the needs of the Shapers, and inform them that if anything is required, you will pass their requests or questions on to me. The Dreamer too," he added, as an afterthought. "If they require supplies or stones or... what have you, inform me. Likewise," he went on, with sudden inspiration, "if I have those in the Forge who wish to test themselves in Centaurus, but who have not earned the rights to travel, I will instruct you to escort them there and back, and to report in private your assessment of their performance."

Master Vargas doubted that any of these things were strictly necessary. But that being said, keeping a line open to the Shapers was, at least, a good idea.

"Do you understand so far?" he asked. "Any... questions, or the like?"

His throat was dry, the anxiety back, but... at least now he had something real to focus on. Tasks to inventory in his mind, to arrange.

At the Leviathan's questions, he hastily shook his head. "No. No questions," he quickly clarified; "I understand."

He felt... important, somehow. And that was good. He'd actually have something to do. A way to prove himself. Responsibilities. Part of him wanted to quickly repeat it all back, to prove he'd been listening, but... it wasn't necessary. It'd be simpering, really, and he was far too aware of the effect any word he said might have.

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