Chapter Text
The winter truce descends as it does every year, quiet and still, and Morax takes a long moment to breathe in the stillness and tenuous peace. Shrugs off his robe and lies down against the stone, bare skin against stone, and closes his eyes, sinking into meditative trance as he begins to commune with his element.
Closes his eyes and breathes deeply, each breath measured, senses sinking into the stone as the year's tension begins to dissolve-
And then he is abruptly torn out of his trance as the discordant alarm of his wards being disturbed jangle across his skin. Immediately, he rises to his feet, reaching out as he does so in order to more precisely narrow down which of his wards had been disturbed, and where, in order to properly respond. In his personal quarters - meaning whoever had done so had gotten past the guards undetected- and realizes, the winter's chill of cold anger settling deep in his cor lapis bones, that it had been the separate ward he'd put on Guizhong's puzzle lock.
Within the space of another breath, Morax teleports himself directly into his personal quarters, not even bothering with the hallways or putting his robe back on, and catches the would-be thief in the act, small hand on the puzzle lock, immediately assessing the threat. A strange adeptus: small, slight, with the strongest privacy veils of any adeptus he has ever seen, more than strong enough to go completely unnoticed by anyone save Morax himself. The privacy veils of an assassin.
"Stop," he says, cold, the warning laced through his voice as he calls Vortex Vanquisher to his hand. A single warning, and no more, and Morax is more than prepared to fight.
The little adeptus does not stop: he whirls to face him in a flutter of translucent silks, swift as the wind, and a spear of his own appears in slender hands. An assassin, then, and Morax immediately advances before the adeptus can make the first move, trying to overwhelm him swiftly. Within the first few moments, the first flurry of exchanged blows, he can immediately tell that the youth is extremely fast and has considerable skill, as well as being especially strong in his cultivation, but in addition to not being a match for him in power and skill, lacks conviction in whatever his cause is.
Within the space of several more breaths, Morax overwhelms the little adeptus, shattering his spear and in another breath, has the golden point of Vortex Vanquisher pressed against a delicate, pale little throat.
"Stay down," he says, voice harsh and cold. Another warning, and if the little adeptus is wise, then he will surrender, obviously outmatched and already subdued. He holds the spear there, to emphasize his point, and the little adeptus remains absolutely still and does not struggle.
To his credit, the little adeptus at least does not attack him when he vanishes his spear, but instead, tries to blur past him in a burst of cutting wind, clearly trying to flee. Morax has long maintained wards in his personal quarters that prevent anyone not himself from teleporting either into or out of them. Unfortunately for the little assassin, Morax has absolutely no intention of allowing him to escape by physical means, either, and slams up a wall of stone and shimmering jade in the doorway of his bedroom. Just before the little adeptus takes another step and collapses, soundlessly.
Immediately, Morax drops down to his knees next to the slight, fallen body: poison? Did he take some kind of poison to ensure that he could not be interrogated, in the event that he failed? Presses two fingers against the little adeptus's pulse point, to assess his meridians and whether he is even still alive: he is still alive, and there is no trace of poison anywhere in his body. But what is immediately certain is that this adeptus is in the worst condition that he has ever seen, even just at a glance: how is he even alive, given how weak and and barely functioning his body is?
In the moment after that, Morax can hear the panicked shouting coming from outside his quarters, and remembers that there is a guard outside. He only stations a guard on his quarters during the winter, when he is in residence, and otherwise simply has wards and a watcher spirit in his absence during the rest of the year, when having a guard would be a waste of manpower.
Takes another moment to secure the little adeptus this time, binding slender limbs in stone - unconscious he might be, but he has already proven himself to be a flight risk - before he dissolves the wall and the mortal guard rushes in, panicked and then absolutely mortified at how an intruder had gotten past her notice.
"They are an adeptus," Morax says, and adds a warding to the stone bindings to prevent teleportation for good measure. "Skilled at privacy veils. Most would not have noticed the intrusion."
Despite Guizhong attempting to teach him how, he has never learned the art of reassurance, and the guard is absolutely not reassured in the least, stammering apologies until he cuts her off with a sharp gesture.
"I will secure the intruder," he says, lifting the little adeptus's unconscious body. Even entirely deadweight, he is entirely too light: hollow bones, Morax suspects, bird-boned. The guard is not reassured by that, either, though he is absolutely not trying to be reassuring: instead, he sends her with a message for his marshal, summoning Fushe to an immediate emergency meeting once he has properly secured the intruder.
Whoever the little bird-adeptus was, whoever he was and why he was here, one thing was certain: he belonged to someone. At this stage in the Archon War, there were no unattached adepti left, all served a divine master (willingly or unwillingly). Sending a thief, or an assassin, was absolutely a breach of the winter truce, and must be dealt with, as he deals with any god who breaks their contract with him.
The question, of course, one among the many that could be asked- and will, before this matter is concluded-, is who had sent this adeptus.
~~~
While his wards against teleportation can last indefinitely, Morax finds it simpler to put the little bird in one of his personal realms. He has several, and he maintains one that is extremely suitable for holding adeptus prisoners if need be. The realm in question takes the form of a single floating island surrounded by infinite mist in every direction: a pretty cage, with the eternal golden sunset washing the mist into a gentle, warm gold, and the single tree, but a cage nonetheless, and a highly secure one.
Morax sets the little assassin down, next to the tree: he is still unconscious, and hasn't stirred at all. After another moment, he kneels down beside him again and presses two fingers to his pulse-point, to take a closer assessment of his meridians. In his earlier, brief assessment, he had been already certain that this adeptus is in the worst physical condition that he's seen of any adeptus, and that still holds true, but the evidence is horrifyingly laid out in front of him.
Severe yin imbalance, likely exacerbated by the obvious, if extremely masterful work, tampering to render him even more susceptible to yin imbalance. Used as a cauldron? If so, it was for the most harmful form of dual cultivation without restraint over centuries, given the lingering bodily weakness and unacceptably low levels of basic functioning. If this adeptus was a fraction less strong in his cultivation, then he would be dead, and Morax makes a note to bring a healer for more comprehensive examination and treatment. He will also have to bring Fushe to take a look, in order for his marshal to assess with his own eyes what they are dealing with.
He considers for a long moment whether to remove the stone bindings or not: they seem excessive, given the little adeptus's condition and the fact that he cannot leave the realm. There is nowhere for him to go and impossible for him to escape. It seems excessive, and Morax dissolves the stone and replaces it with restraints made from geo energy instead, out of prudence: there is very little danger from the little bird-adeptus, but the risk of someone accidentally killing him should he wake up and fight back is high, given his current physical frailty. Accidentally killing him would deprive them of their only source of information, and it is a risk that Morax is unwilling to take.
Whoever this adeptus's master is, they are a fool myriad times over. Whoever this adeptus's master is, they have broken their contract, in sending an assassin at the very start of the winter truce: whoever this adeptus's master is, they have broken their contract and broken their word. A fool that will be dealt with, once he has enough information: he has promised, after all, that ones who break their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.
And his word is as solid as stone.