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The knock on the door comes after closing time, just as Wu Ming is done with cleaning up the last of the spilled alcohol and gunpowder. Bit of blood too – scuffle had broken out over an ace up someone's sleeve, and well, Wu Ming has got better things to do than risk it all over a card game. Their Ghosts'd had 'em up again, right as rain, in time for him to kick them out at closing. They'll probably lose a few more lives staggering up the mountain in the dark.
None of his concern if they do.
The knock sounds again. Wu Ming thinks about ignoring it – not a whole lot of good can come out of people visiting this late at night – but there's always the chance that it's one of his less savoury contacts with a 'delivery'. Man's gotta keep on top of things if he wants to survive.
He throws the rag he'd been using to clean onto the bar, and heads over. peers out through the spyhole he keeps for situations like these. There's a man stood there in the dark, hood pulled up so his face is shadowed, but Wu Ming recognises the symbols on the gauntlets he wears – anyone with even passing familiarity with the mountain would recognise the motif of the Iron Lords.
So what reason has an Iron Lord to be here this late?
Wu Ming opens the door a crack. "Whaddaya want? We're closed.
The man does not seem deterred. "You're Wu Ming."
"Who's asking?"
"Lord Felwinter."
Wu Ming smirks. "You ain't Felwinter. You got a whole lot more flesh and skin than he does."
There's a flash of annoyance across what Wu Ming can see of the man's face. Another thing that this guy has that Felwinter doesn't – he's a whole lot more expressive than the Dark Horse. "Lord Felwinter sent me to speak to you."
"Never said I was Wu Ming," he says, and watches the man's scowl deepen.
"I know that you are. I am not stupid," the man snaps. "I saw you when you climbed the mountain to speak to Lord Felwinter."
That, Wu Ming had not expected. He'd been pretty careful when he went up there, hadn't noticed anyone else watching. His estimation of the man goes up a notch. "Guess you'd better come inside then."
Better than yapping on the doorstep where anyone could overhear. He opens the door and steps aside to let the stranger in.
Apart from the gauntlets, he's wearing plain, simple clothes, stuff that means he wouldn't stand out even in a crowd of Ghostless. Or it would mean that except he's fantastically bad at hiding his Light – it's leaking out all over the place, a physical pressure that raises the hairs on the back of Wu Ming's neck. It's the kind of thing he'd normally associate with someone who still has grave-dirt on their boots, but something about that doesn't sit right with him.
Put a shade over a lamp and sometimes the light seeps out because the shade is flimsy, wrong material, made by someone who doesn't have the skill to make it properly yet.
Sometimes the light seeps out because there's just too damn much of it to contain.
He goes to lean back against the bar, and folds his arms across his chest. "So, what does Lord Felwinter want with a humble bartender?"
The man gives him a look of disdain. "You cannot pull that 'humble mortal bartender' nonsense with me."
Wu Ming shrugs. "Sure I can. I can already tell it's gonna rile you up something crazy."
Smart, when he can feel this man's raw power? Probably not. But if he was smart, he wouldn't be living in the shadow of the mountain pretending to be Ghostless.
"I did not come here to be mocked."
"What did you come here for then?"
The man matches Wu Ming's stance, arms folded across his chest, and he looks Wu Ming over critically. Wu Ming doesn't flinch – he's had worse looks before from scarier than him.
Finally he seems to come to a decision. "Lord Felwinter said that you had information to exchange. He sent me to deliver his."
"What, can't the Dark Horse make his way down personally?"
"'Operational security'," the man says. "Felwinter leaving the mountain would be noticed and questioned. Lord Radegast would not take kindly to discovering that he's been deceived for years by a man running a bar at the heart of the Iron Lords' territory."
Huh. That's more consideration than Wu Ming had expected, though he doubts that it's entirely for his benefit. Makes sense that Felwinter would want to keep some things on the down-low.
"Felwinter must trust you a lot to have you come down here." Assuming it isn't a lie. If he'd seen Wu Ming on the mountain, might've decided to come down on his own and see if he can get something out making a deal.
"I am his apprentice," the man says.
"Didn't know Felwinter took students," Wu Ming says. Man has a reputation after all. He's heard stories from other students who've visited the bar, even from some of the Iron Lords themselves when they deign to descend from their lofty mountain – Felwinter doesn't socialise, doesn't get close to anyone, doesn't take students.
"He doesn't."
Wu Ming raises an eyebrow at him, but the man stares back, impassive, and apparently unwilling to explain more. Wu Ming snorts.
"You got a name?"
"Osiris."
"Lord Osiris, huh?" Fancy name.
"I am not a Lord," Osiris replies. "I am here to learn. I have no interest in titles or ranks."
Yeah, like he believes that. Everyone's interested in power, and round here, titles and ranks hold that power. But if this guy wants to delude himself, Wu Ming ain't got any reason to waste time persuading him otherwise.
"Well, what've you got for me?"
Osiris seems to relax at the indiction that they get down to business, and Wu Ming stores that reaction away for reference. He reaches into a pouch that hangs from the sash at his waist, and pulls out an engram which he holds out towards Wu Ming. "Information that Lord Felwinter believes might be of use to you. Use it yourself, or sell it. Whatever you do with it."
He sounds disapproving, his lips drawn into a tight line. Wu Ming grins and reaches for the engram, only for Osiris' fingers to close around it before he can grab it. "Give me yours first."
"What, don't you trust me?" Wu Ming asks, feigning innocence.
"No," Osiris replies, "you've given me no reason to."
"Even if Felwinter does?"
Osiris frowns. "What Lord Felwinter chooses to do, who he chooses to trust is his business."
But Osiris obviously trusts Felwinter enough to come down to the bar in the middle of the night. Can't help but be curious about that.
"It'd be pretty stupid of me to renege on a deal with the Dark Horse. I've seen what he does to people who cross him." He watches Osiris' reaction to that – the frown that creases the corners of his eyes, the way he drops his gaze as though… what? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Confused? Always possible he just plain doesn't know everything. Breaking the Iron Decree is no small matter. "Heard he claimed his mountain by throwing a Warlord off of it. Heard what he did to Citan. Heard what he did to Lord Dryden."
He doesn't bother to hide the cold satisfaction in his voice. Dryden's death hadn't fixed anything, hadn't laid any ghosts to rest, but it was a debt paid, and revenge gave a certain sort of satisfaction.
Osiris watches him for a long moment. Wu Ming wonders if he's just shattered the trust he has for Felwinter. Maybe destroyed his faith in the Iron Lords. Petty to want that, but he's never claimed to be a good guy. They hide from too much up on that mountain, forget what it's like for the people down on earth.
"Dryden deserved it," Osiris says finally, distaste in his voice. "We were given the Light to defend humanity, not to use them as pawns."
"Don't think Ghosts had any reason in particular to force the Light on us except maybe spite," Wu Ming says, "but glad we agree that Dryden got what was coming to him." Maybe Felwinter knew what he was doing with this one.
He produces an engram, rolls it across his knuckles idly. "You gonna decrypt it here and now? Make sure I'm not handing over a whole load of nothing?"
Wouldn't be the first time. Some of the people Wu Ming deals with ain't the most trusting sorts. Wu Ming can't really blame 'em.
Osiris searches his face briefly and then shakes his head. "No. If Felwinter trusts you for whatever reason then I– I trust him."
Huh. Wu Ming wouldn't have considered that what's between him and Felwinter is trust, except maybe the kind of trust that you only get when you know that the guy whose throat you have a knife at also has a knife ready to plunge into yours.
"Dangerous man to trust. He doesn't seem the type to make friends easily."
"Neither am I," Osiris replies, unwavering.
Wu Ming snorts. "Smart guy."
Friends are a good way to get yourself killed.
Osiris holds out his hand for the engram. Wu Ming holds onto it for a moment longer, as though considering changing his mind, before he tosses it over. Osiris catches it and slides it away, then offers Wu Ming the engram from Felwinter. Wu Ming takes it, peers at it, though he knows Felwinter wouldn't send him a load of nothing – he might be the dark horse of the Iron Lords, but he's still bought into their bullshit about honour.
"Nice doing business with you," Wu Ming says, vanishing the engram somewhere safe to look at later. "What do you get out of this deal anyway?"
"What do you mean?"
"Coming all the way down here to play errand boy."
"I told you, I'm Lord Felwinter's apprentice. He asked me to do this."
That can't be all there is. "C'mon, you can tell me. I've had enough students of the Iron Lords wanting to take on a few jobs for me. Got to get the glimmer from somewhere."
"They are not supposed to do that," Osiris says, words barbed with disapproval.
Wu Ming shrugs. "Felwinter ain't supposed to mete out final deaths either. We've all got our vices. So what is it if it isn't glimmer? You sleeping with him?"
He isn't entirely sure if it's possible for exos to fuck – never seemed like his place to ask if he ain't planning to hook up with one – but people do stupid things for people they're sleeping with all the time.
"Don't be crass," Osiris snaps, but oh… the hint of a flush on his face. Even if it's just embarrassment, it's a nice spot to poke at. "Is the idea that I might simply respect him enough to want to help him truly so alien to you?"
All of them up on the mountain caught up in their dreams of knights in shining armour. It'd be charming if they weren't so fucking naive. It'll get them killed one day.
"I live in the real world, hotshot." Osiris glowers at the nickname. Wu Ming ignores him. "No-one does anything out of the goodness of their hearts."
"The Iron Lords–"
"The Iron Lords want to be big damn heroes," Wu Ming says, because he's heard every damn bit of their propaganda. He knows what they think they want, but he doesn't live on the mountain. He's seen how it works out in practice. "They want to have statues and ride around like the world is some fairytale instead of a fighting pit where everyone's out for themselves."
"That is not true. They are fighting to stop Warlords, to make things better."
"Plenty of 'em don't act much different. If you know what Felwinter did to Dryden, you know what Dryden did."
"And you sought justice for his crimes," Osiris shoots back.
"I sought revenge," Wu Ming says, voice sharp. "Wasn't anything so noble as justice. I just wanted to make sure he got what was coming for him for ruining a sweet little gig I had."
Lie low, work a few minor miracles to help out the town. No-one asked any questions.
He'd been glad when Dryden had arrived, the food they'd brought had seemed a blessing.
And he'd got them all killed. Buried them all.
"You don't seek revenge for something that you don't care about," Osiris says.
"You think you know me?" Wu Ming snarls. Brat from the mountain trying to act all high and mighty, like he's figured out the world. "Sitting up there in your fancy temple, you don't know what the real world is like."
"I know what the world is like." Osiris' voice is harsh, and once again there's that pressure, his Light seeping out, wild and uncontrolled. Makes Wu Ming's mouth go dry and he can't help but wonder if the reason Felwinter claimed him as apprentice is because Osiris would be a nightmare to deal with if he ever decided to become a Warlord, and the Dark Horse wants to make sure he can nip that in the bud if he needs to. "I was risen far away and I travelled for years to get here. I've seen the destruction that the Collapse has wrought and the suffering inflicted by Warlords. I know what it means to have to do nothing but… survive."
Wu Ming wants to laugh, wants to mock him, but there is a rawness to Osiris' voice that he… he recognises it. Doesn't like that he does.
"All that and you're still naive enough to take up with the Iron Lords and their fool crusade." The words sit bitter on his tongue.
"At least they fight for something. They have a purpose. An imperfect dream of a better world is still better than hopeless nihilism and the logic of the strong oppressing the weak."
"Isn't that just how things are?"
Osiris meets his gaze for a long moment. "It does not have to be. If you believed it was, you wouldn't be hiding your Light and running a bar."
"Maybe I'm just trying to survive." Besides, holding territory seems like more trouble than its worth. Warlords are as much a threat to each other as they are to everyone else.
"I want to do more than simply survive," Osiris replies. He shakes his head. "None of us will survive if we keep tearing each other apart until whatever caused the Collapse comes back to finish the job."
It sounds pretentious, putting on airs like he knows something Wu Ming doesn't. They probably teach it up on the peak.
And yet, Wu Ming cannot help but shiver at the words.
"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad." He'd be just as dead as he would have been if his Ghost hadn't dragged him up out of the mud in the first place.
"Survival or annihilation, pick one," Osiris says. "They are incompatible." He turns away, heads back towards the door to the bar. Good riddance. Or it should be, but Wu Ming doesn't want a guy like this to think he's getting the last word.
"So, you gonna be playing errand boy for Felwinter from now on?"
Osiris turns back, expression dawn into a scowl, pride easily wounded. "I am not his 'errand boy'."
Wu Ming shrugs. "Whatever. Y'know, I've never seen you down here before."
He's got a keen eye and a good memory for faces. Good to know who's likely to cause trouble.
"I have not been here before."
"Yeah, and that's the problem," Wu Ming says. "Easier to keep a low profile when dropping stuff off if you just being here doesn't look suspicious. That's why Felwinter didn't come himself, isn't it?"
"I don't have any reason to come here any more often. I am quite capable of remaining unnoticed."
Yeah, Wu Ming doesn't buy that. If he can feel Osiris' Light, then he's certain that anyone on the mountain with half a braincell can.
Heh, maybe lack of braincells is the reason they haven't noticed.
"You ain't as stealthy as you think, hotshot." Another scowl which he matches with a smirk. "Surely it can't be such a problem for you to tag along with your friends next time they come down. Enough of you come down from the mountain to drink after all."
"I don't–" Osiris begins, jaw clenching. "I would draw more attention if I suddenly began socialising," he says finally. "But they are used to me leaving the mountain alone on my own excursions. Your secret is safe with me, for Felwinter's sake if nothing else."
There's a weird not in the way he says it, something just a bit… off. Something familiar in a way that makes his belly feel hollowed out like it had on the road. Long days-weeks-years travelling with nothing but himself and a life he'd never asked for.
Not like it matters anyway. He's shed enough lives, he barely remembers how many it is by now.
"And here I thought you were a fan of the Iron Lords," he drawls. 'Cause that… that sounds like a man who has a plan to escape if necessary.
"…doing more than surviving takes practice," Osiris says more quietly, as though it pains him to admit. "When you have been alone for a long time, being surrounded by people feels very much like a trap." He looks up, and gives Wu Ming a piercing look. "I think you know that very well."
"Like I said, I survive," Wu Ming replies, a touch of sourness on his tongue.
Osiris looks him up and down with that piercing gaze, like he's assessing everything that Wu Ming is, or has been, or will be. The discomfort of it makes Wu Ming want to punch him, or at least make some crass comment, but he holds back because that feels too much like he'll somehow be proving the other man right. About what? He isn't sure. Himself maybe. The world?
What does he see?
"I hope that will remain true," Osiris replies in a mild tone. From most other Risen that Wu Ming has met, it would sound like a threat, but guys with this kind of power and confidence… yeah, maybe he can see the similarities between him and Felwinter.
"It's worked so far," Wu Ming says with a shrug. "Outlived Dryden, didn't I?"
Osiris nods. "My thanks for the information. And Lord Felwinter's thanks as well."
"Yeah, whatever. Just don't drag me into your wars and we're good."
There's another of those sharp looks from Osiris, like he knows something that Wu Ming doesn't. He doesn't like the feeling. But Osiris looks away and pulls his hood back up.
"A coming war does not care about our desire to stay out of it," Osiris says, solemn. "All we can do is prepare as best we can."
"Oh I'm prepared, trust," Wu Ming says. Prepared to leave as soon as things get too hot for comfort. He's no idiot with delusions of heroism.
Osiris inclines his head as though accepting the words. As though he has his own ideas about what Wu Ming might do.
He sweeps out of the bar as though he's subconsciously expecting an entourage to accompany him. Wu Ming watches him until he's lost in the shadow of the mountain, then closes the door, locks it. Stares at it for several seconds.
"Weird guy."