II-121 Assembling a Team

He didn’t lie about bringing me a face, but he didn’t fully understand me, not at that time. I didn’t even understand myself, so lost was I, so used by foul hands to achieve fouler deeds.

I was, I was someone once, someone beloved, someone cared for, protected, on a world, a sanctuary. I was an artist, I sculpted, I painted, and I was a surgeon, for that was what my master taught me.

And then the unfallen came, the unfallen and the Claimed Hells, and we chose the devil over oblivion, over decay.

But as I made it through, my master, my master, I needed a face. I needed a face because my master was no longer whole. I needed a face because without one, my master would sleep eternal.

I needed a face, and I needed a face of a god, for that was who my master was, a god.

And through their master, Wei An Wei, I found something else. I found something altogether more… perfect.

My master was not alone in the end. Not alone…

-Alan Struebert, “The Facetaker”

II-121

Assembling a Team

“Rafael!” Ellena’s rage-filled roar shook the entirety of the Unblossomed.

“Rafael!” she roared again, and this time even the cockroaches began to flee back into the crevices. Most of them made it in time, for the few who did not reach their point of salvation before the glow of her tyrannical gold descended, before the cleaner demons she summoned came. They killed themselves, for to enrage the Queen, the brutal type quartermaster of the new Drowned Sky sect, was to experience a fate worse than death.

“Rafael!” she cried a third time. A wall collapsed as she passed by, flanked by an honor guard of gold-plated warriors, each of them screaming out “Rafael!” with her voice, her ire, her authority.

“Oh shit!” the orc chef cried out. He fled, handing out the last bits of his pastry before scattering from the inner courtyard with a few hundred outer disciples. Everyone cleared out. Everyone ran even faster as they saw the burning scowl on Ellena’s face.

In her left fist was a contract partially torn, partially caked in blood. In her right was an open hand—flexing its fingers, preparing to slap someone. Perhaps someone who didn’t have a true face, only a skull.

She marched into the mansion. The Oathbearers were slowly rebuilding. Roggi called out to her, flexing his massive moth-like wings, only for her to march right past him.

“Not now, Roggi. I need to kill someone.”

“Oh, good luck on that, then,” Roggi said. “Alright, we’re stopping work for now, guys. There might be another fight between the Quatermistress and Rafael soon.”

“Aye,” the other Oathbearers declared as they cleared off.

Ellena went up the stairs, smashed through the main set of doors leading to the office—the central office that the Inner Court used to discuss all the proceedings. As she opened the final set of doors, she found Rafael there, floating, with several ciphers drifting through the air, bringing him new contracts, new pens, new things to sign. So engrossed was he in his work that he wasn’t prepared for one of Ellena’s summoned guards to pick the table up, fling it against the wall, and then crash it down in front of him.

Ellena sat down on the guard, facing Rafael—only to realize the glitch was still a little bit taller. So she made her guard straighten up a little. Then she was taller than Rafael.

Rafael stood. Ellena scoffed. The guard stood. Now she was on its shoulder, staring down at Rafael, truly asserting her dominance. She held out the crumpled contract in her hand. On it were the words, shares, writ and signed by Rafael of the Drowned Sky Sect, authorizing one share to anyone who signs up with the Drowned Sky Sect.

“Rafael,” Ellena said. Her voice was entirely calm—her rage at an all-time high. “What in the hells is this?”

“Oh, this,” Rafael said. “That is merely a recruitment brochure. 

“It seems to me that you are selling the shares, selling parts of our collective wealth, to recruit people by bribing them.”

“Well, not exactly.”

Explain to me what exactly you’re doing,” Ellena said.

“I am simply doing what Wei asked,” Rafael said, leaning back casually. “He demanded that we bring in more Outer Court disciples to find the ones with most potential for tryouts, and now I’m luring them in the only way I know how: through capital. We must use capital to destroy our enemy’s capital. I’ve told you this before.”

“Spare me the lecture,” Ellena said. “What you need to explain to me is how we are supposed to promise—how we’re supposed to deliver on over one million people lining up outside our door. One million! Do you understand how absurd that number is? Have you taken a look outside at the line at our front door? It’s going on and on, beyond even the horizon. There are literally Sinners floating in the air, waiting. They’ve been waiting for days. What have you done? What madness is this? How do you think I can keep up with this much distribution, this much funding? What are you doing?”

Rafael huffed. “I am doing my duty. You need to do yours. Elena, it is not my fault that you cannot keep up with the demand. This is simply a problem of market economics—and you are lacking in supply.”

“Don’t give me that deceptive, vile, deceptive, filthy, deceptive, disgusting rhetoric that you learned from the Circle of Greed,” Ellena seethed, pressing her nose against the hollow in Rafael’s skull. “You—you’re no better than the capitalists you so hate!”

“You say that to me again!” Rafael shouted, clutching her collar. Her guards seized him by the collar, and suddenly they were growling at each other.

“I have no idea why she thinks a filthy, land-owning capitalist like you would have made a good quartermaster,” Rafael seethed. “And I have no idea why Wei ever trusted you!”

Ellena snarled. “You miserable vermin, you rat. You take away my benefits, my wealth, our hard-earned gains, and give it to everyone, you deceptive, lying, disgusting vermin.”

Agnesia walked into the room and immediately did a 180-degree turn before her mother could summon her.

“Agnesia!” Ellena cried. Agnesia fled so fast she went through a wall. Ellena could hear the Oathbearers crying in outrage. “Damn that girl!”

Then Wei came in with his newest acquisition—the poor, miserable boy who couldn’t meet anyone’s eye, muttering about faces.

“You! Wei!” Ellena called.

“Uh, uh, yes,” Wei said, looking between Rafael and Ellena. “I—wait, what are you doing here? It’s practically the middle of the night.”

“Have you not noticed something outside our front door?” Ellena asked.

Wei paused. “...The rest of the city?”

“The line!”

“Oh, yes,” Wei said. “Very good, Rafael. That’s what we need. More recruits, more disciples. We have to have them do tryouts in the grinding camps. We must see how good and capable they are.” Wei laughed.

“Truly, most people here don’t have martial spirit, but there are a few—”

“Wei! He’s promising shares!” Ellena snapped, glaring at Rafael. “Shares of our collective wealth!”

“Doesn’t that just make us richer?” Wei asked.

Ellena raged.“No! No, it’s not good! It’s our money! It’s distributed among everyone!”

“That’s not exactly how it works,” Rafael muttered.

“Well, how does it work?” Wei asked.

The lich cleared his throat. “It’s simple, really. What’s theirs is ours, and what’s ours—well, still technically ours, because they’re all joining the sect, and what’s the sect is yours. And so, effectively, we have a communal resource pool. We are not getting poorer. We are getting richer, just like they are.”

Wei considered the lich’s logic and nodded. “I like this communism. Truly, it is the most capitalistic of endeavors.”

The lich made a pained noise like someone just stabbed him in the kidney, and Ellena shared in that agony, but for a different reason.

“Regardless, I would like to call a general meeting of my Inner Council,” Wei said, placing an arm on the young man’s shoulder. “This, this is Lady Ellena. She handles most of our resources and our supplies. Say hi to the Facetaker, Lady Ellena.”

The Queen was momentarily distracted. “Wait, you’re that boy who cuts off people’s faces? Why? 

“I… I need a face. I need a god’s face.” The Facetaker looked at Wei, practically about to start crying. “Please, you promised me. I came all this way with you.”

“Yes, yes, no problem. You will be— you will be given a god’s face very soon. We just need to wait for Vendrian to arrive.”

And as he spoke of the Scion, the Scion appeared.

“What the hell is this?” Vendrian said, entering the room with his small infant son strapped to his chest, feeding the boy from a bottle.

“Vendrian, just in time. I need you to die.”

Vendrian stared. “Hello, Wei. Fuck you too. Who starts a conversation like that?”

“I do,” Wei said. “And this is the Facetaker.”

Vendrian stared at the young man, nodded, and made a gesture. A gesture which caused his sister, the living blade Mourning, to drift into the room. “Who are we stabbing, brother? Who are they? What is that? Is that a… wait, did you kidnap a child, Wei?”

“No, this is the Facetaker,” Wei pointed at the boy.

Mourning bobbed up and down momentarily. “Oh, well, hold him still. Let’s finish him off quickly.”

“No, no, no,” Wei said. “I promised him a face.”

Vendrian rubbed his face—and his son grabbed at his fingers. “Are you bullshitting me right now, Wei. What do you mean by ‘you promised him a face’? I’m not giving him a face.”

He doesn’t want your face. You’re not that pretty either,” Wei sneered.

Vendrian glared at Wei. His son made a loud cooing noise, and he brought the bottle back to the baby’s mouth.

“I have been called very handsome by quite a few fucking people,” Vendrian growled. “It’s part of the reason I have a fucking son.”

“Yes, well,” Wei said, gesturing to the Facetaker, “this is Vendrian. He is the Scion of Death.”

The Facetaker moaned. 

“Is that kid alright?” Vendrian muttered, 

Wei shook his head. “No, he likes cutting faces. I’m not sure if you noticed.”

“Hey, Wei,” Vendrian said.

“Yes?” Wei replied.

“Fuck you.”

***

A few moments later, the Inner Council was gathered, and practically everyone was staring at the Facetaker. He was wilting under the pressure, shaking, shivering. “I just need a face, please stop looking at me.”

“How the hell did he do all that theater if he’s like this?” William asked.

“Wei, do you have some kind of skill or title that makes you more capable of finding the only people more autistic than you in this shithole?” Bishop asked.

“What? What does ‘autistic’ mean?” Wei asked.

Bishop sighed. “Never mind, it’s a compliment, kind of.”

“Thank you. I suppose we are all autistic in our own way, I suppose,” Wei nodded.

Rafael made a choking noise. William let out a long, suffering breath.

“Hey, man, it’s your fucking fault,” Bishop said. “If you bothered to raise this boy right—

William nearly snapped. “Goddammit, there is nothing I can do about that. There is too much of his mother in him.”

“Hey guys, what’s actually happening here?” The Gainsmaster stumbled in. He looked… awkward. Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. And there were… what are those crumbs all over his shirt?

We blinked at the man. “Hey, aren’t you… you’re outer court.”

The Gainsmaster blinked. “I don’t know what that is. I’ve just been sleeping and eating all day. What day is it anyway.”

We stared at the man for a long while, and he shook his head before he motioned for one of Ellena’s guards to close the door. “Fine, you get in here too. Today, we are going to welcome a new member. To our…” We paused. “Our sect. Greet the sect, Facetaker. Is that your only name?”

The Facetaker couldn’t look at anyone. He was mumbling at the floor, rapidly clenching and unclenching his hands as he tried not to have a nervous breakdown.

“Uh, kid?” Bishop said. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but this motherfucker looks like he’s about to have a complete mental collapse.”

“Yes, well, that’s because he hasn’t gotten his face yet,” Wei replied before he looked to Vendrian.

Vendrian glared at Wei. “What? 

“If… you kill yourself.”

“Yeah?” Vendrian asked, as if daring Wei to go further.

“What do you want? 

“What do I want?” Vendrian replied. “Well, not to kill myself, for one.”

“Yes, but other than that, what do you want?”

Vendrian just stared at Wei for a good long moment. Then he looked down at his son, who was now making a squealing noise. Justice had a small tuft of hair, very brown, and he had these big blue eyes like his mother. And slowly, he developed a confused expression as his father unlatched him from his body and handed him over to Wei. 

The young master’s mind went blank. “What are you doing? What is this?”

You’re going to watch my kid,” Vendrian chuckled. “You’re going to watch my kid for, I don’t know, a week? I want to spend some time with Aerea. The little shit won’t stop crying, and we’re basically doing everything to keep him alive. I want to just have some time with her.”

“I—” Wei said. Little Justice wailed and kicked. The young master winced. “Are infants supposed to wiggle this much.”

Agnesia leaned down and grinned. “Aw. Aren’t you sweet.”

Justice’s eye widened at her approach and he pawed at Wei, as if a lamb fleeing into the jaws of a wolf to survive a dragon.

Wei winced. “I have many people to fight. I have many—”

“If anything happens to him, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Vendrian said flatly. “I will find a way. These are my conditions.”

The young master looked into the Scion’s eyes and a shudder ran through him. He held the baby awkwardly, and Justice immediately began to whimper. “Please, crying is unbefitting. Defy the heavens, child!”

“It’s a baby,” Amnesia said. “He  doesn’t understand.”

“What do you know about infants?” Wei asked.

“More than you do. Give him to me.” As soon as Agnesia touched the baby, he started screaming. She flinched.

“Look at what you’ve done now,” Wei said. “Give the child back to me.”

“Here, here,” Wei said, bouncing the child against his shoulder. Agnesia pouted at him. “Fine. I’ll—will you just give a face so I can finish this recruitment. Blind heavens, it’s like I’m running a madhouse.”

Vendrian sighed and nodded at his sister. “Mourning, let’s do this.”

“Are you sure?” Mourning asked.

“Yeah. Faster we deal with this, the faster… fuck, I don’t know. Godsdammit, Wei. Hey, you,” he called out to the Facetaker, who shuddered at the roughness of the Scion’s voice. “Why do you want a face so badly?”

“A god’s face?”

“You know my father isn’t actually like a real father, right? He’s just a divine entity. He looks like a hound. He literally looks like a hound.”

“Yes, but—but…” The Facetaker swallowed. “I need a perfect face, or it won’t work, the work won’t be done!”

Vendrian sighed harder. “Wei, did you just… are you serious This guy?”

Wei felt defensive. “I’m building a team of heroes and warriors—He’s really good. He can turn, it’s practically invisible. I couldn’t even sense it. He’s not great at fighting. He doesn’t do a lot of harm. He…” Wei paused, “I’m not sure how he was going to be Hell’s Vanguard at all, but it was really impressive. 

“And you’re just going to recruit everyone you find impressive?” Ellena asked.

Wei clenched a fist as Justice began to grunt against him. “Yes, that’s how a sect works. I’m the patriarch.”

“I am the patriarch,” Wei repeated. “I am.”

Once again, Bishop used that word of praise earlier. Ausism or something. 

“I need, I need the face, to recreate my master, to wake him again, to wake him, because he was a god.” The Facetaker was sweating and shaking.

Everyone was staring at the Facetaker, and now even Ellena looked uneasy. She inched a little closer to Wei, and leaned in. “Wei, I’m not sure if this is wise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think he’s mentally well.”

“But… none of us are mentally well,” Wei muttered.

“We are aware,” Ellena continued, “but—but you are—we can still communicate.”

“I communicated with him just fine earlier.”

“Yes, but you had to physically overpower him to do it, if my daughter is to be understood.”

Wei paused. “Well, it wasn’t that bad. Vendrian, just show him the Hound. If that doesn’t work, we can try finding some other god. 

“Try finding some other god.” Vendrian said, “So what, you’re literally just going to find a god, beat them up, and take their face, for this guy?”

“Yes!” Wei said. “Why not? It is the point of a cultivator to buy the heavens. And if I can’t recruit whoever I want, whenever I want to, this place might as well have broken me.”

Vendrin sighed, and with a nod, his sister ran him through unceremoniously. The Scion let out an annoyed shudder before he crumpled to his knees, and a wall of frost began to spill out from him. It was that deathly cold, that withering cold. It was a portal that led into another world, and by Wei’s lead, the Facetaker followed.

“I promised you that you were going to meet a god,” Wei said as they marched toward an expanse of deathly cold. “So, it is time for you to see that I, Wei An Wei, Patriarch of the Drowned Sky Sect, am a man of my word.”

The Facetaker blinked, and he bit his lip. “Okay, okay, but can you hold my hand? I am afraid…” And awkwardly, he reached out to hold Wei’s hand. The young master awkwardly tried to avoid getting his hand held, but eventually let the Facetaker grab his wrist.

Agnesia leaned in and growled at the Facetaker who flinched away from her. “That’s right, that hand is mine.”

“Agnesia!” Ellena let out a gasp.

Just then, Justice threw up. On Wei. The young master’s right eye twitched. “Let us go in before I, Wei, Patriarch of the Drowned Sky Sect, attempt suicide to spare myself of shame. Let us see what you think of the Hound, Facetaker.”

***

Approximately half an hour later, Vendrian resurrected and Wei returned with a shell-shocked expression on his face. The Facetaker was weeping, sobbing violently on the ground. “He didn’t want me. He said… he said I was mad. I was broken… I’m never finishing the work… I’ll never fix my master…”

Wei just stared. “I… I didn’t realize the Hound knew so many words and so many slurs to call someone.”

“Yeah, well…” Vendrian coughed, rubbing his chest. “He doesn’t like it when someone comes in and asks to take his face. Imagine if someone did that with you. What were you thinking, Wei? He was the God of Death!”

“I thought he had plenty of faces to give.”

“He’s the God of Death, not the God of Faces!”

And just then, before the argument could spiral out of control, the door burst open.

“What is this? What is now? Don’t interrupt me!” Wei paused.

On the other side was Rogi, looking happier than he’d been in months. “Wei, this happened! They finally came back! It’s… it’s wonderful! It’s perfect!”

“What? What’s wrong, Rogi? Why are you so happy? Stop it! Your happiness is scaring me!”

And then the Oathbearer stepped aside, only for a blinding light to wash into the room. Blinding light, followed by a song. Wei could barely remember. And then a creature of three heads entered the room. Three elven heads, each one perfect, each one glistening with divine light.

And suddenly, the Facetaker was on his feet again, staring. “Master,” he breathed.

“No, no, no. Master? No, it can’t be. But all of you…” He started shaking. Tears ran down his face. “Oh, their faces. It’s perfect. The trine has returned. The trine is fused into one.”

And Wei stared at the FaceTaker. “No, you cannot take their faces. They’re ours.”

“But I need a face.”

“He needs a face,” the unified Trine said. “But we need another body. Show us the body.”

The Facetaker fell to his knees. “Master, you returned to me.”

Wei stared. The Oathbearer cheered. Everyone stared. Bishop leaned in closer to Wei. “Wei, I have no idea how you keep finding the weirdest motherfuckers to recruit, but I’m going to need you to stop. Please motherfucking stop.”