Of course, Vagrant was right about the secret entrance being somewhere. It had taken some straying from the other chosen he was observing, some scouring of some nearby mountainsides, but eventually he found a small cave reeking with the stench of the carcasses of slaughtered children and, more grotesquely, the fetid odor of those accursed winter folk. See? What did I tell you? Vagrant said to his demon. This may be Creation, but Fair Folk always have a way of bringing their chaos here.
Brilliant, as always, you know what's best. The demon responded, sarcasm flavoring his voice to a vicious snark. Still, now that we know how to get in, do you not get the sense of a trap from this?
What are you, daft? He responded with a chuckle. Of course I do, and we're going to spring it. He took a few more steps, the shadows creeping over his body and bathing him in shadow, it was clear he was again shifting his form, molding his disguise into that of something other than a mortal man.
You know, the more you speak cryptically with me, the more I doubt you really know what you're doing. Sand interjected, now clearly trying to advise him otherwise. We could just abandon this whole trek and go back to the village, start there, wouldn't it be easier than trying to pal around with a solar and an abyssal?
The shadows sunk away, giving Vagrant his original appearance, but something had definitely changed in terms of his illusion, the caste mark of a Zenith appeared briefly on his head before slowly fading from view. Because killing citizens of the Wyld is always a secondary objective among the Reclamation...
It was a longer trek than Vagrant had anticipated, his robe fluttering slightly as he advanced through the small cave into whatever horrors the Winter Folk were cooking up for him. Already his hands were wrapping around the chain daiklave at his belt, his fingers intertwining through the cold, corrupted chains. It had been long since he acquired such a unique and deadly weapon, the blade on a chain had served him well in many conflicts. Granted, that was not always his first option, but it was always one of the sweeter ones. That chain tightening around someone's neck, that blade piercing the heart of some unbeliever, the warm blood of the unenlightened dripping down the metal, it was always a rush of excitement, and he had a feeling it would come into use today with these fair folk vermin.
Of course, this gave more time for Scorn of Sands to try and talk him out of this insane task. Vagrant, this is poorly advised, you should be bringing glory to the Primordials, not walling around killing fair folk and making friends with other Chosen.
You see, this is why I'm the one driving this body and you're the one adivising, you just aren't a big picture person...demon...thing.
This is because you remember your incarnation, isn't it?
Vagrant stopped dead in his tracks, he couldn't argue that there were one too many things he remembered about his past life as a Solar that probably should have been kept quiet by the Ebon Dragon. He remembered his life as a king, his care and compassion for people, and the adventures he had conquering and liberating those who needed with his mighty empire. Of course, it was only bits and pieces, but it was more than enough for Vagrant to put two and two together.
You know who you were. Sands said, trying to appeal to his sense of mission. But you know all of that was a lie, that the Unconquered Sun is not your friend...neither will these people. Especially if you betray them too, just like you did--
Enough, Spirit. Vagrant growled, hopping over what could be counted as the third pile of corpses. I know my duty, and I know my missions, I don't need you doubting me every step of the way. You're -my- Coadjutor, but I'm the one who makes the final decision, got it?
The demon paused, the sounds of Vagrant's feet sinking into the snow was all that echoed through the cave. Y...yes, Vagrant, of course.