Will

"Before we begin, would you like to take a seat somewhere?" Handsome asked. "This may take a while."

"I'm fine where I am, thanks," Will worked out, tensing his jaw.

"Very well. In that case, allow me to explain the reason behind my presence here. You see, I am a senior agent of a certain organization—one with members across the entire Frontier, its roots extending deep into every octant. We do not often speak its name lest unworthy ears should overhear, but I will tell you now. We are known as the Omen Bearers."

"I'd figured you'd be into something like that," Will said.

Handsome gave a demure little giggle. "I don't doubt it. You are an observant man, after all—which, indeed, is one of the reasons why we are having this conversation. Your talents as a covert operative might serve the organization's purposes well.

"Purposes that you must be curious about. Truthfully, it's a bit of a long story, but I will condense it as best I can. The organization's founding can be traced back to the turbulent times following the Deicide. You may have heard any number of stories about what happened to Era's divine followers in the wake of her death. That they fled, or committed suicide, or whatever.

"I do not claim to know the truth of these matters. What I do know for a fact is that one of their number decided to walk a somewhat less defeatist path. The patron and founder of our order is none other than Era's lieutenant—her most favored disciple."

Will's brows shot up. "Are you… talking about the archangel? Valeria?"

Handsome nodded. "You know your history, I see. Yes, quite right. Archangel Valeria. Once known as the Seraph of Charity, she took on a new moniker following Era's murder. She is now the Seraph of Vengeance."

"Is she also the Devil Queen, then?"

"That's a bit above my pay grade, I'm afraid. I have never had the privilege to meet her. Suffice it to say that she wishes to enact her vengeance on all mankind for our part in her mistress's demise. I trust it is not difficult to grasp her motivations from there."

"No," Will said. "No, it's all quite clear."

"Good. Well, as you may know, the angels can only exert a very limited influence over our material plane. As such, in order for the archangel to avenge Era's death, she needed mortal servants. And so she founded the Omen Bearers, entering into a binding contract—the Last Contract—with a select number of humans to enact her will.

"Its terms are simple. Once the signees of the contract have succeeded in eliminating all other humans from the Frontier and facilitated the goddess's resurrection, the remaining loyalist angels and their mistress will leave this world behind to seek greener pastures elsewhere. In their absence, the full power of the Concord will be handed over to us, and we will be granted eternal life with which to rule over this world forever. Our very own paradise."

"Right," Will said. It all sounded insane.

So they're a resurrectionist cult, he thought. Sort of, anyway. I've never heard of a group like this before. Certainly not with this kind of backing, anyway. If what Handsome was saying about their reach could be taken at face value, then…

"And you know she'll hold up her end because it's a binding contract?" Will asked.

"Yes," Handsome said.

"Then, if Valeria has the authority to entrust the Concord to you, does that mean she is in control of it now?"

"No. Only the Goddess has direct power over the Concord. It's… Ah, it's a little bit technical. I do wish we could have had this discussion under better circumstances; taken our time. Alas, I will do my best to explain. As I understand it, the process of restoring the goddess to life is quite the undertaking. There's a piece of her missing—a part of her very being that was cut away by the Godkiller. Without it, she cannot be restored.

"Valeria intends to take the place of that missing piece—to merge with the goddess, and, in some sense, to become her. Any contracts Valeria is subject to will be transferred and apply to this new version of Era. Thus, as long as we uphold our end of the bargain, the goddess will be forced to grant us our reward, regardless of whether she created the contract originally." He gave a dissatisfied click of his tongue. "I apologize if that doesn't make much sense."

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"No, I understand," Will said.

He understood exactly what Handsome was saying, and it scared the shit out of him.

The advisor held up his slender hands. "Now, I realize our methods may sound cruel, but let's look at things realistically. The Frontier is a doomed world. We both know this. Every day that these people are forced to toil in their own filth, slaves to their most animal instincts, is cruel in itself. Wouldn't it be better to simply cut their misery short? Wouldn't neverending paradise for a few be better than hellish torment for all, equally?"

"You're acting on behalf of the greater good—is that what you're saying?"

"Well… All I'm saying is that you don't have to view it as a purely self-serving cause."

"I see now why you would want to keep someone like Brimstone in power. He's a walking time bomb that never stops exploding."

Handsome giggled behind his fingers. "His destabilizing influence on Octant Six is beneficial to us, yes—but I like your way of putting it better."

"But he's not one of you, I'm guessing?"

"No. We do not believe that he would be amenable, so we employ somewhat subtler means of aiming him at the things we want destroyed."

"Like a certain northern ruler?"

Handsome smiled. "Yes. Although, with that said, we have now arrived at the heart of the matter…"

The advisor slowly let his hand drop. His eyes glittered in the dark. The commandos loomed about him like graveyard crows.

"You want me to back out of moving against Brimstone," Will said, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. "And I'm guessing there's an 'or else' attached to that."

"You catch on quickly, Master One-Eye. If you accept our offer, I have been authorized to grant you the rank of harbinger. That would make you my equal within the organization, and put you above the typical operative such as these fine people behind me, who hold the rank of reaper. It is a rare privilege for a new recruit—an offer made in recognition of your considerable talents, not to mention your mental profile, which we believe is highly compatible with our cause. You do whatever it takes to get results—even if it gets you a little dirty along the way—and you are able to think ahead, plan tactically, maneuver others. All qualities we value greatly.

"Now, you don't seem quite convinced, but I hope I can make you reconsider. You shouldn't think of the alternative to joining as a threat. Refusing to cooperate would naturally make you our enemy, yes, but you have all the power to decide how this ends. It would be disingenuous for a man to place his hand into a lion's mouth, then blame the lion when he doesn't get it back."

"But…?"

Handsome's smile took on a somewhat patronizing edge. "We will obviously safeguard our interests with extreme prejudice. That woman, for example. Sam Darling."

Will bristled at her name. "What about her?"

"You love her—and, presumably, wish for her to prosper. Now, she will of course receive the same offer as you. Just imagine what your lives could be like if you accept. Once all this unpleasantness is over with, you will have an eternity together. I've never been much of a romantic, but even I have to say there's something stirring about that.

"Of course, should you refuse…" The advisor spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Admittedly, Miss Darling has some diplomatic value to the organization that means we can't afford to kill her outright, but her life could certainly be made extremely… uncomfortable."

Will had to fight the sudden, overpowering urge to cut the ugly little toadie a head shorter. "Carrot and stick, huh?" he said, his voice coming out strained.

"Yes. And now that you know where things stand, Master One-Eye, it is time for you to make your choice. You are just a few simple words away from greatness. You see, we have a certain… mantra. To affirm your compliance, all you need to do is repeat it."

He held out his left arm, the inside of his forearm facing toward Will so the facets of his AP crystals caught the moonlight. "Burn the world," he said. And around his circular Profession symbol, a new one appeared. It was the eight-pointed star of Era, but somehow distorted. The points were sharp and twisted, more like the legs of a spider than rays of light.

[Burn the world.]

"Burn the world," said the commandos in one voice, "that we may live." They too held out their arms, and the same symbol appeared on them; identical except that the legs extending from theirs were shorter and less sprawling.

"You just need to say the words," Handsome said. "But…" He sighed, and slowly shook his head. "...I can see on your face that you will not. Such a shame. A terrible waste of potential."

Will had hoped he could fish for a bit more information before his inevitable refusal, but considering who he was dealing with, maybe that had been an overly optimistic goal.

He found himself wishing he hadn't been quite so quick to hash things out with Captain. He could have done with some backup right about now.

"Well, you're not wrong," Will said. "Sorry to turn you down, but you don't know Sam Darling like I do. If I ever tried to sign us up to a doomsday cult, I'd spend the rest of my life in the doghouse. And that's not exactly my idea of an eternity well spent."

He was first to draw steel, already launching into a sweeping, two-handed swing with Anathema. He fell short before it could connect with anything, his muscles seizing up on him. The realization was almost instant. Handsome had mindcast Peace on him.

Other blades cleared their sheaths half a second later. Sleeves went down to cover sheets, and people scattered; jumping high or ducking low or Dashing away. Handsome backed off with slow, calm steps, taking himself just out of easy reach.

This is not going to be fun, Will thought, trying to keep track of six moving targets at once as they spread out into a wide arc around him.

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