Ardry ducked as another lightning bolt whizzed over his head.  His armor had already absorbed too many bolts of lightning and gouts of acid conjured by the Apostate Master of this installation.  He’d fought his way down here through rocky tunnels filled with giant, angry Gotrok Lugian diggers and the polished stone walls of the facility where the Apostates were conducting their latest round of arcane experiments, and the resistance had been unexpectedly tough.

The Lugians, of course, were a known quantity.  Ardry had already explored several cavern complexes dug by the specialized Aetherium miners.  Nor had the Hea Tumeroks guarding the surface entrance of the complex been a surprise – renegade Hea and Gotrok were well-established allies of both the old Virindi renegades under the rogue Director Levistras and the new Apostate faction led by their mysterious Consul.

The Simulacra he’d encountered in this “reaving facility”, whatever that meant, were a surprise, however.  Isparian-looking bodies animated by the will of Virindi puppet-masters were nothing new, but the power wielded by these Simulacra and the weapons and armor they used had never been encountered by any of the Royal Council’s scouts, and he was already mentally formulating what he’d say in his report about them.  He figured that Queen Elysa and her advisors would be very interested to hear about how well equipped these Simulacra were, and that they would have to investigate their supply chains and quartermasters to see how the Virindi Apostates were getting their hands on such fine equipment.

Even more disturbing was the work he’d seen the Simulacra doing.  They were carrying around metal limbs, apparently parts from the “Gear Knights” that he had been sent here to contact.  The hollowed-out metal carcasses he’d seen had confirmed that much.  They were doing something with the parts.  It looked very much like they were scraping some kind of material out of the inside of the parts and storing it in containers very similar to the storage vessels the Virindi had made a habit of stashing around the Direlands.  He wondered if he’d gotten here too late to make contact with the delegation that Lord Asheron had told him to expect.

He shook away his reverie as he dodged back, narrowly avoiding the swipe of the Master’s sickle.  As battered and tired and wounded as he was, he knew that this Apostate would have to be near extinction itself, so he danced forward and jabbed his blade into the creature’s blank white mask.  He put all his flagging strength behind that strike, and was rewarded with the familiar shivering sensation as the very fabric of creation itself seemed to warp around the Virindi’s collapsing core.  There was a clap of air rushing inwards as the Virindi dematerialized.

The Apostate Master left him something to think about, though.  He heard peals of dissonant, disembodied laughter as the cloak and mask fell to the ground.  Then, the part he hated worst: the dying Master whispered directly into his mind.  “Enjoy your brief triumph, Isparian meat puppet.  The Consul has achieved its aim already.”

He shook his head to clear away the alien presence, and rooted through the pile of fabric left behind.  Finally he found what he needed: a key that would open the door to the next chamber in this facility.  He ignored the cold fear that suddenly crept up his spine, checked the corridor to see that the Virindi’s bodyguards or subordinate Servants had not come back, and went to the door.

Mentally, he rehearsed the speech that Lord Asheron himself had made him memorize before embarking on this mission.  “In the name of Lord Asheron of Knorr and the Isparian Queen Elysa of the people of New Aluvia, I bid you welcome to the nexus world of Auberean and to the island of Dereth.  On behalf of the allied Empyrean and Isparian peoples of this realm, Lord Asheron wishes to humbly submit his heartfelt apology for the accident that befell the Primus of the Golden Gear and its attendant dignitaries.  The ambassador’s party was a victim of a catastrophe that befell Lord Asheron’s people, and no treachery was intended.  Lord Asheron offers to visit your home world as a show of his good faith to re-establish the ties that your Primus had intended to forge.”

Confident that he knew the speech, Ardry unlocked the door.  He laughed when he saw the last security measure behind the door.  Soon enough, he was past the obstacle and standing in front of the portal.  He took a deep breath and rehearsed the speech again.

Finally, he stepped through the portal.  When the wrenching and warping sensation of the journey through portal space was complete, he found himself in a large, dim room lacking any kind of ornamentation.  Portal energy crackled across every surface of the smooth stone here, and he shivered as he felt the power of this site.  At the far end of the room, silhouetted in crackling purple light, was a hulking humanoid shape constructed entirely of metal, with thick limbs and wide shoulders.  Its head was a rounded bump rising from his broad chest.  It was surrounded by smaller versions of itself, presumably guards or servants.  These, at last, were the Gear Knights he’d been sent to talk to.

Soon enough, they noticed him.  The larger one in the center turned and strode towards Ardry with a stiff, long-striding gait, flanked by its retainers.  Ardry bowed deeply as it approached and started his speech.

“In the name of Lord Asheron of Knorr and the –“ was as far as he got.  The large Gear Knight strode up to Ardry and whipped one of its great, metal arms at him.  The heavy metal gauntlet smashed into Ardry’s chest, breaking a few ribs and flinging him back to crumple against the wall behind him.

Suddenly he noticed the weapons carried by the Gear Knight retainers.  A metallic voice boomed from the center of their leader’s chest.  “Isparian located.  Ally of the traitor Asheron identified.  Physical similarity to thieves and kidnappers confirmed.  Commencing combat and termination protocols.”  As the Gear Knights raised their weapons, everything Ardry had seen, and the smugness of the dying Apostate Master, finally made sense.