Home at Last

“You’ll want to kneel,” Adrian told Christine and Rhys as he lit the candle in the center of his apartment. “It’s the proper etiquette.”

“Is that necessary?” Christine asked.

“Araqiel says it is, and I don't think it's smart to question it.”

They kneeled. Whatever reservations Christine may have had left were about to evaporate. Adrian kneeled himself and picked the cloak up from where it rested at his side.

“Do we really have to be here for this?” Rhys asked nervously.

“I need you to know what kind of waters we’re swimming in.” Adrian couldn’t afford them having any more doubts.

Without further preamble, Adrian spoke Araqiel's name thrice over. This time, it didn’t make him wait; it appeared immediately, with that uncanny way it had of merely coming into existence. Adrian was beginning to grow used to it, but the others were not. Christine and Rhys gasped at his back; Adrian could sense their tension.

Araqiel was something to behold. Beautiful and sensuous, but sharp. Its milk white skin and night black markings, fearsome. Its otherworldly eyes, crimson and always in motion like a dancing candle, carried the weight of its long life. Despite everything the group had been through, the undeniable proof of Araqiel’s presence was overwhelming. Christine muttered something under her breath, too softly for Adrian to make out the words but loud enough for him to pick up the awe in her tone. Rhys was deathly silent.

“I was wondering when you would call,” Araqiel began.

“I didn't want to contact you until we were home free,” Adrian replied.

“And here you are,” Araqiel congratulated him. “Well done. Excellent work, all of you. I knew you could pull it off.”

“You could have warned us about the priest,” Adrian said. “Or at least the other knight.”

“Yes,” Araqiel frowned, “surprises both. But nothing you couldn’t handle. My judgment was sound, as always.”

Adrian disagreed. “We barely got out of there. A heads up that priests can use goddamn magic would have been nice.”

“Watch your tone,” it warned him. “And it wasn’t truly the priest; he only channeled the power. That chapel was consecrated ground. One of the archons of Humility, by the taste of it. Likely done to remind the church not to attempt such ludicrous notions as the Gunpowder Plot.”

“So it wasn’t…holy power, or something?”

“No,” Araqiel dismissed the notion. “The Catholic church is old. It has acquired many secrets in its time, but it wields no direct power outside of that which the archons are already capable of doling out. It isn’t even solely the provenance of the Others. It has served our purposes as often as it has theirs.”

“Are you really a demon?” Christine blurted out. Araqiel turned its attention to the woman, clearly displeased, but Christine took no notice. “Why did the first dynasty of Lagash fall?”

“Control your squires,” Araqiel intoned. “They are permitted to be in my presence, not to address me.”

Adrian looked back at Christine. Her mouth hung open. Apparently, it had just clicked that a little more caution might have been in order. She met his eyes. There was a hint of fear there, but it was overpowered by her curiosity. “Sorry,” she told him. “But I really want to know.” She put her hands together in a pleading gesture.

Adrian shook his head. “Fine.” He faced front again. “Whatever she said, I guess.”

Christine made a little squeaking sound.

Araqiel scowled. “I will sate your curiosity as a reward for completing your task, but this will not become a habit. To answer your first question, no, I have never used the word demon. I am properly termed an archon of House Lust, and I would thank you not to impose your crude mythos on me.

“As for the second question, Urukagina lost a war to Lugalzegasi and was executed. His armies performed poorly, as recent crop failures had left him unable to see them properly outfitted, and internal civic strife over his at the time revolutionary set of laws had made it difficult for him to recruit levies.”

“What about-“

Adrian turned his head around and silenced the woman with a glare.

“Right,” Christine apologized. “Sorry. Again.”

“Um, Adrian?” Rhys spoke up. “I have my own question. If that's ok,” he hurried to add.

Adrian nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

“Um…well, I was just wondering…how do I, you know…fix myself?” Rhys’s entire body was tense as he awaited the answer. He looked delicate as a porcelian statue.

“The changes,” Adrian asked Araqiel, “can they be undone?”

“No.” Her answer fell like a gavel. Rhys choked. “Or at least, not by you. That there will be changes is an inevitable consequence of the energies that bind us. As I have told you before, I allow my vassals some measure of control over what form those changes take. It is not impossible that they should alter your squires in ways that they find amenable, but it is unlikely. They take pleasure in the process, and moreover, they know my mind; I would be displeased to see them take too soft a hand. It would reflect poorly on my court.”

Guilt welled up inside Adrian. Rhys was crushed, and why shouldn’t he be? His transformation was a difficult one to process. Thinking about his squires raised a question, though. “Where were that other knight’s squires?”

“Ah. The man you faced bears the title of the Rapture Knight. He serves Adimus of the House Avarice. All in that House are disposed to its nature, but Adimus truly embodies it. It cannot stand that others should have things, and begrudges its own knight his squires. Adimus keeps them near itself at all times.”

“Doesn’t seem smart,” Adrian noted. “Having six other people out there would have changed things.”

“Just so,” Araqiel agreed. “But Adimus is petty. It hoards back the bulk of the power the Rapture Knight is entitled to. Similarly, I suspect it wanted the cloak for no better reason than that I sought to claim it myself.”

"I took his earring," Adrian said, fishing it out of his pocket. "I wasn't sure what to do with it."

Araqiel chuckled softly. "I will see it returned. That should help soothe things over; Adimus lost a lot of credibility with its bungled attempt."

Another worry wormed its way into Adrian’s mind. “Daniel, the Rapture Knight…he didn’t look well. Is that what happens if you're a knight too long?” Adrian had made this deal to avoid wasting away. If that was going to happen to him anyway, it would all be for nothing.

“No,” Araqiel informed him. “You will not share that fate. Adimus chose someone too weak for the mantle. He did so deliberately, as suits his tastes. I selected you, as suits mine.”

“Why _did _you choose me?” Adrian had wondered it before, but he wanted an answer. “Was I just the first one to ask?”

“You don’t know?” Araqiel asked back. “Allow me to answer your question with one of my own. You worry about your squires' changes, but where are your own?”

Adrian started. He hadn’t realized he’d be changing too. Fear began to gnaw within him at the prospect. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Araqiel gave him a knowing look. “My servitors have twice tried to enact them. Both times you rebuked them.”

Adrian thought back. Now that it was mentioned, he could think of two times the whispers had tried to overpower him. “I didn’t let them,” he said, a realization.

“And that is why I chose you. Willpower. It took a tremendous amount of it to break the seal that bound me, and it is the key to wielding the powers I will give you. There is no trait more important for a knight. It will bolster you in all that you do. The other skills you need, you will learn. But strength of will is something you must possess innately. To see the consequences of being otherwise, look no further than the Rapture Knight.”

Adrian processed this new information. It made sense. He’d been in some scraps, but he wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t smarter than most people. He was neither a gifted diplomat nor a manipulator. But he hadn’t had an easy life, and when things were tough, he knew how to power through.

“A word of advice for your benefit?” Araqiel continued. “Stop resisting the changes. So long as you fight them, you fail to embrace our pact. It will weaken you, perhaps even enough to allow your disease to continue to spread. The next time you feel them coming on, allow them.”

“What will happen to me?” Adrian asked, afraid to know but more afraid not to.

“I don’t know,” Araqiel answered. “That is out of my hands.”

He nodded. It made sense. He needed the bond with Araqiel to cure himself, and having that bond in place is what brought on the changes. They were unavoidable. A small part of his guilt abated; at least he would be going through the same thing as his squires.

And that was what they were, he realized. His. He had been fighting it the same way he’d been fighting the transformations, stubbornly insisting on his independence even as all the signs pointed the other way. He wouldn’t have been able to retrieve the cloak without Christine’s and Rhys’ help. He never would have even found it. He needed them. And they, he realized, needed him.

His squires were his responsibility. He had signed them up for this, even if he hadn't meant to. He could only imagine what the others were going through out there. Or right behind him, for that matter. He owed Rhys better. The kid had no one else.

Adrian raised the cloak, which was spread out over his arms, in offering to Araqiel. “You’re right,” he told it. “I’ve been holding back. That’s over. From here on out, I’m yours.”

Araqiel stepped forward, taloned feet clacking on the floor, and took the cloak from Adrian’s outstretched arms. It wound its way behind him while Adrian continued to face forward. He bowed his head.

“Adrian Parker,” Araqiel intoned, “you have been chosen to serve. From here until the end of your days and beyond, you will be mine. The third court of the House Lust embraces you.” It draped the cloak over him, the deep hood coming to rest just above his brow. “I anoint you, the Umbral Knight.”

Electric power surged through Adrian’s veins. He felt alive. He wanted to burst through his front door and do something. He wanted to wind surf, he wanted to sky dive, to fuck and play and live. His troubles seemed so small. So what if he was poor? So what if his body ached and his health was failing? He was there, on the earth, and every second he spent not doing something seemed like a sin.

“Oh,” he said simply.

“You feel it?” Araqiel asked, trailing its fingers across his cheek as it returned to its place before him. “That is us. That is who we are.”

Adrian knelt his forehead to the ground, overawed by the connection he felt, by its depth and breadth both. He was part of something cosmic.

“Rise,” his master commanded. “We have matters to discuss.”

He obeyed and, finding his voice again, asked. “What comes next?”

“Now that you are a full knight, we need to begin assembling your power base. That means money, influence, and somewhere you can operate from.”

“You have ideas?” Adrian asked.

“Yes. As I told you, my financial reserves are limited. They were left exposed for too long, and the plunder was substantial. You will need to be self-sufficient as soon as possible. To that end, you need to establish an income stream. A brothel would be appropriate.”

Adrian blanched, and Christine made a distasteful sound. “I’m not a pimp,” he said.

“It need not be tawdry,” Araqiel assured him. “Such things can be done with refined sensibilities.”

“I don’t think it's for me,” Adrian hedged. He knew if Araqiel pushed the point that he would day as it wanted him to, but the thought made him deeply uncomfortable. “What about a casino?” he offered instead. “If it’s money we need, that would do the trick.”

Araqiel shook her head. “Gambling is the domain of the House Avarice. Strictly speaking, we could flaunt the norm and try, but it would cause me great strife. Such things are not done.

“But no matter, we have options if the first is not to your taste. A social club would do us well. Dancing, intoxicants, music.”

“You mean a nightclub?” Adrian asked. It was better than a whorehouse at least, but he'd never pictured himself as a nightclub owner. He racked his brain, trying to come up with more suitable alternatives. “What about a resort? That would work, right?”

“It might step on Indulgence’s toes,” Araqiel thought aloud. “But perhaps, if we tailored it towards the active instead of the leisurely…”

“Exactly,” Adrian seized on the thought. “Think about it. Jet skis, parties, lots of money. It’s perfect.”

“Think on it,” Araqiel told him. “I will allow you to make up your own mind in this. Whatever you choose must suit you.” Araqiel cocked its head. “I am needed elsewhere. Matters here are settled?”

“I think so,” Adrian answered.

“Then congratulations, my knight. This is the beginning of something great. Be well.”

Araqiel vanished. Adrian collapsed onto his side. Rhys rushed over, concerned, but Adrian was laughing. He wasn’t going to die. He was cured. It was, quite literally, a miracle. Or maybe whatever the opposite was. It didn’t matter. He was going to live.

“Are you ok?” Rhys asked.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a lot.” His body was still pulsing with his newfound energy. He sat up. “Are you finally ready to admit it's all real?” he asked Christine.

“Hard to argue now,” she admitted, remarkably well composed for what she’d just witnessed. He couldn’t say the same about Rhys. Christine got up off her knees and dusted herself off. “I need to go home. This changes, well, everything. I have a lot to think about.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he told her, holding out his hand.

Christine gave it a firm shake. At the touch, a voice leapt forward from the recesses of his mind. “Put a baby in her,” it whispered. Adrian ignored it.

“Until next time,” Christine said. She grabbed her luggage and left.

Adrian was left alone with Rhys. He approached the younger man and put his hand on his shoulder. “You doing alright?”

“No,” Rhys admitted. “I thought that…I’m going to be stuck this way.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Adrian consoled him.

Rhys shook his head. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“You’re not alone,” Adrian said gently, squeezing Rhys’ shoulder.

“I can’t do this,” Rhys broke down. “It’s too much.”

Adrian pulled him into a hug, and Rhys wept openly. “I never thanked you,” Adrian told him. “I asked you to fly around the world with me, and you did. You saved my life, Rhys. So whatever it takes, I’m here to help.”

They broke their hug, and Rhys stepped back, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’m not cut out for all this. I’m terrified. I could have died out there.”

“But you didn’t,” Adrian told him. “When it came down to it, you did what you had to.”

Rhys stared at the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Go home," Adrian told him. "Get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

“Shouldn’t have given you those chips,” Rhys laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Adrian conceded, feeling awful. “But I’ve been telling you all along, you’re smart. It’ll all work out.”

Rhys nodded. “Sure.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Rhys gathered what few of his things had made it back from Scotland while Adrian called him a ride. They spent the time mostly in silence. They were both exhausted. Adrian saw Rhys off at the door and, once he was gone, trudged over to the bathroom. He needed a shower.

The warm water was a balm for his tired muscles. The surge of energy he’d gotten from the benighting had long since faded. Adrian could still feel it inside of himself, like a reservoir, but he didn’t tap into it. He’d be asleep soon, and nothing sounded better to him than curling up in his own bed.

“It’s time,” came a whisper.

Adrian closed his eyes. It was one thing to accept that this was necessary; it was another to allow it. Reluctantly, he opened the gates to his mind and let the spirits in. He found that, now, they didn’t seem so chaotic. He could understand each one of the myriad voices as they spoke. He even knew their names. He listened, fearfully, as they argued over what to do with him.

Argrenud wanted to give him breasts, like Rhys. Gagmumel wanted him to cum more. Ulmaxeth wanted to raise his libido. Patiently, nervously, Adrian awaited his fate. In the end, the spirits of the court came to a consensus.

Adrian’s entire body was overcome by the feeling of pins and needles. His heart leaped into his throat, but he shoved his panic back. Whatever would come would come. At least now he knew what the squires had felt.

Adrian watched in fascination as skin began to tighten. Fat evaporated off his form, muscle growing to replace it. He wasn’t in poor shape, but he didn’t work out. He didn’t have the time. Now, though, his body morphed to that of an athlete. His biceps grew, he developed the faint hint of abs at his midsection, and his legs became stockier. When it was done, he looked strong, not cut like a bodybuilder, but fit.

The numbing sensation faded from most of his body, everywhere but his crotch. Adrian’s eyes went wide, and a deep, primal fear sprang forward. What were they doing down there?

“Relax,” he was told. “You will approve.”

Adrian’s cock began to grow, gaining an inch of length even flaccid and plumping up to a matching girth.

“Eight inches,” one of the voices told him with pride.

“You’ll need it for those sluts of yours,” laughed another.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The squires.”

“Your courtesans.”

“Soon you will lie with them.”

That pulled Adrian up short. “Araqiel didn’t mention anything about that.”

“You do not have to.”

“But you will choose to.”

“You will see.”

Adrian’s transformations were done, and he shoved the voices out of his head with ****. He didn’t mind the changes, not hardly, but the relief was outweighed by the revelation that he was expected to sleep with his squires. His temples pounded. Have sex with Christine? Dear god, with Rhys?

The other squires, too. Adrian would need to go find them, bring them into the fold. He dreaded how those conversations would go. Despite his recent success, there was so much ahead of him.

Adrian decided to take his own advice. He’d told Rhys to get some rest, and he needed some too. Adrian turned off the shower and toweled off, then collapsed into his bed. Hopefully, everything would be all right in the morning.