The progression of the sun creeping across the sky told Shinsou it had been roughly an hour since he had entered his quarters. The troubled man had done little else other than stare blankly at the town over the rim of the Brotherhood headquarters perimeter fence, thinking only about one thing. It was the same thing that had infuriated the Telgradian for the past few weeks, and that was that the traitor Arius Mephisto still drew breath, despite his best efforts. The most progress they had made amounted to a dead frost dragon and some re-plastering in Whitevale, but other than that there was very little to show for the hunt. Just as Shinsou was starting to calm down and accept that he and the Brotherhood might be in this very personal war for the long haul, a letter landed with him. The contents of that letter, if true…

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door that stirred Osiris from his thoughts. Sighing, the Telgradian pulled the curtains to and turned away.

“Yes?”

“It’s Durandel”, the elf’s familiar Raiaeran accent permeated the air, “Your guest has arrived.”

“Show him in.”

The wing his quarters was situated on had been eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint morning breeze brushing past the cracks in the wood of the window panes. Durandel had taken care to lock the doors leading to and from the section of the building, as ordered, ensuring the hastily arranged meeting had enough secrecy and security to go both unnoticed and undisturbed. Once those bolts had been latched, a cold feeling had swept over the elf. The section of the building around them looked like it had been abandoned for so long. Its once-quaint rooms with their small vaults and low wooden arches now seemed somehow filled with an empty sorrow.

As the tall elf opened the door and looked at his leader, Durandel got a bad feeling, although he couldn’t place what. He stood aside and immediately to attention as a figure emerged from behind the other side of the wall and slowly entered the room. The man, as tall as Shinsou but slightly stockier, was of pale complexion and swathed in black robes that seemed closer to mock tribal dress from Akashima than Coronian attire. A loose shirt and nondescript pants, all woven from simple black-dyed fabric, could be seen underneath a flowing imitation haori. The man’s jet black hair swayed at his waist and underneath several matted strands of fringe were a pair of emerald green-

“He was armed, only with this, and surrendered it willingly on arrival.” Durandel interrupted, handing Shinsou a heavy looking broadsword. As the Telgradian took the hilt in his hand he anticipated an immediate, awkward force on his forearms, but the lightweight characteristics of the weapon surprised him. He was able to hold it easily, and single-handedly.

“Remarkable,” Shinsou said as he marveled at the silver blade, “What is this metal? Aluminum? Some sort of alloy?”

“Volak,” The man in the black tunic spoke clearly and deliberately, “As strong as steel, but half the weight.”

“I’ve never heard of Volak before. Truly remarkable,” The Telgradian repeated. He paused for a moment before handing the sword back to its black-clad owner, holding up a reassuring hand as Durandel stepped forward to protest. “It’s fine. I’d be grateful if you could leave us.”

The elf, momentarily stunned, eventually nodded and cast his eyes to the floor briefly in thought before leaving through the open door. As the brass latch clicked behind him, Shinsou stood with his back pressed against the room’s wall, the fabric of his dress shirt managing to soften the pressing, whilst his darkly dressed guest sat in a nearby chair upon invitation from his host.

“The reason I’ve never heard of Volak, I assume, is because it native to your homeworld, Canen?” Osiris’s arms were folded loosely before him as he perched.

“What’s left of it.” The man, Canen, let his bright green eyes flit back and forth between various items in the room as he tried to weigh up his host. Every single thing in here would tell him more about the infamous Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s lifestyle, personality and even his eccentricities. It was his brother Gideon who had taught him attention to detail, and it would be a useful tool in assessing a man whose surface publicity had been such a taboo in Corone, but whom very few people knew much about underneath all the tavern bluster. “I brought my proof. I know you didn’t ask for it, but I want nothing left to doubt.”

Silently, the swordsman rose to his feet and produced a satchel from his robes, pulling out a small shard of metal. Rubbing the dust from the surface with the pale heel of his hand, he handed it over to the waiting Telgradian, who had left the comfort of the wall and was now stood in front of him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Shinsou’s eyes ran over the surface of the metal. It was a piece of a breastplate, marked with ancient symbols that he could not decipher, but ones he immediately recognized.

“You must understand that this is impossible. This is from Executor ISOS’s armour,” The Telgradian murmured, recalling the relic that he and Storm Veritas had destroyed in Whitevale on the day their coup had succeeded, “Me and Storm Veritas obliterated it a year ago. There was nothing left, we checked. How do you have it?”

Shinsou looked up as Canen’s eyes drew to him, his dark hair spilling down his back and over his face. His expression shifted subtly as a came to him; eyes opening a degree wider than before, his jaw muscles flexing.

“Arius Mephisto and Executor ISOS are one and the same. Four hundred years ago, a man named Arius Mephisto led an army called the Castigars long before your Brotherhood’s namesake existed. It was during that time that we suspected he was experimenting in powerful and unorthodox sorcery of the likes not ever seen. Rumours were flying around that he was trying to find ways to become immortal, and there seemed to be a fascination with messing around with time, but attempting to become immortal destroyed his original body . At this point he became like a wound, lost his physical form, and then attached himself to this armour. ISOS was the name given to this new entity, and the man Arius was forgotten.”

Shinsou’s hand played on his coattails, his fingers finding the rough chords that made up its lining. “If this is true, Canen, then that would make you…”

“The Khaian people don’t succumb to age like humans do. We live for over a thousand years, thanks to the preservatives in our blood,” Canen slid up the chair, pulling himself up and running a hand over his head. “But now, I’m the only one left. I was young, but I was there for the Castigar War. We rode under the banner of the Red Dragons. Myself, my brother Gideon and my friend Kaiser. We had this 'ISOS' holed up in his fortress, but we got careless and he slipped away. Gideon eventually tracked him down to a dead coral reef on the outskirts of a village called Karak, and challenged him.”

“What happened?” Shinsou turned his face to Canen once again.

“We don’t know exactly how it happened, but Gideon lost and ISOS escaped.” The Khaian’s answer came in a more subdued tone, “There were no witnesses to the battle. All that was left were scorch marks and that chunk of armour, glowing white hot. The mystery plagued me for centuries, but recent events have shed light on what might have happened. I think that ISOS had used a portal to escape, and it turns out that portal had dumped him elsewhere in time. It's one theory, at least.”

“Sounds a bit far-fetched…” Shinsou shut his eyes as something thumped against his nerves. “If this is the same man, or entity, I haven't ever seen anything that suggests he had any manner of control over time. But, I have seen him use portals similar to what you described, and he was hardly likely to show me any such power if he did have it."

There was a moment of silence as Shinsou quietly turned back to the window, throwing open the curtain that he had closed.

"Once the possible has been eliminated," The Telgradian mused, "only the impossible remains. If what you've said is true, it could be that he re-forged or repaired his armour here, and then he found a host body and subsumed it. It could be that 'Arius' was the one I recruited into the Brotherhood. The armour we destroyed contained sorcery that was brainwashing the people in Whitevale - clearly it was significant. We just didn't know why.”

“So, what happens now?”

It was then that Shinsou spied some commotion at the gate through the glass pane. He watched as a small number of guards began hustling towards the entrance, disappearing through it. A moment later, a number of lances levitated from the outer wall and cascaded into the square, barely missing a patrol who, bemused, stopped to investigate the pile of discarded weapons.

“However he came to be, or came to Althanas, it doesn't change a damn thing. He must die. See that?” Osiris buttoned his coat as he pointed to the unrest outside, “That is exactly one third of ‘what happens next’. If you think I'm pissed off with Arius, wait until you meet him.”

A moment later, Durandel was through the door and at his side.

“Before you say anything, Durandel, I know,” Shinsou sighed, pre-empting the elf’s report on Storm Veritas, “I knew he wouldn’t like coming back, so he’s probably in a foul mood. Get him in here as soon as possible. While you’re at it, find Rhyolite and get her in here too. Escort Canen to his secure quarters.”

“What are you doing?” The Khaian raised an eyebrow as Shinsou’s elven guard stood to his side, trying hard to not seem too intimidating.

“Right now I trust you, Canen, even if some of what you say seems a bit fantastical. But, if any of this turns out to be bullshit, I’ll know where to find you.” Shinsou explained in a calm voice as the Khaian watched Durandel stride over and clap a hand on Canen’s shoulder. “You’ll be given every comfort and courtesy, but you aren’t going to be leaving Whitevale until I can prove your motives and story. Once bitten, twice shy. Oh, that reminds me…”

Shinsou walked over to Durandel, and held out his hand. Canen’s broadsword was immediately relinquished to him.

“Does this sword have a name?”

“Valiance,” a visibly annoyed Canen responded, eyeing the Telgradian through narrow slits.

Shinsou held the grip with one hand, before pulling Canen’s sheath from his back with the other.

“I like your sword. I’m keeping it.” The Telgradian said with a glint in his eye and the slightest of smirks.