A flash of blue light announced Nicolai's arrival, stepping through the portal. Sunlight poured down from a brilliantly blue, cloudless sky. Ripples caught at him, and Threat Analysis was quick to work, scanning and analysing them for anything of interest, while sending the drones attached to the chains wrapping his body humming into the air.

There were many other portals likewise flashing. He was in the large square, the same place he and everyone else had appeared last time. This wasn't where he'd departed the city, but he knew that with each fresh opening, all portals would be re-keyed to this location. Supposedly it was possible to change your automatic portal opening position, but he didn't know how.

As before, he wore his skinsuit and the Blade was slung across his back. Other than the new sheath for the Blade, his appearance was all but unchanged compared to the last time he'd been here. However, there was one key difference.

Previously, he'd purchased an item called a H-gram. This had been a white balaclava which was capable of projecting holographic projections around his face.

He'd actually bought two H-grams, but hadn't utilised the other back then. The alternate H-gram was an attachment for his skinsuit's helmet, and he wore it now. It was effectively netting formed from thin filaments of white light-wire, which wrapped around his entire helmet.

This H-gram was currently working to project a field around his head which, through clever manipulation of light, generated the appearance that the visor of his helmet was open, face visible. It was far from perfect and anyone giving him more than a quick glance would soon note the artificiality and various flaws in the light, but the purpose wasn't truly to convince people his visor was open.

The purpose was twofold. It meant he could present a human face, with the typical, manipulable features. The H-gram drew from one of his internal cameras, which recorded his own features. Thus, it was able to recreate any expression he made—or not, as he chose.

He wanted to be capable of this because facial expressions were useful, and he was quite skilled in their use. The right expression, at the right time, could modify the meaning of his words, to lead people to think the kinds of things he wanted them to think.

The other purpose was to suggest that he looked different than he actually did. The H-gram showed the face of a man who was quite generic, by Earth standards. Attractive in that square-jawed manner that men typically sought, and which, through cosmetic surgery and gene therapy, was quite easy to achieve.

This man also had spiky blonde hair. When donning a disguise Nicolai liked to ensure there were one or two distinctive features. In his experience, people remembered such things better than the face.

Anyone with a brain would be well aware that the holographic appearance was likely far from his own, but even knowing this, consciously, wouldn't stop them from expecting him to look at least a little like that. It was just how humans were. When they saw a face to match a voice and body, it would all become bound together in their mind. Even if well aware the face wasn't real, it wasn't easy to change that first impression.

There was one other use of the H-gram, though he worried this might be more of a con than a pro. The Modules were able to manipulate it, in fact they were quite skilled when it came to messing around with hologram projections. They had plenty of experience, as Zero-Twelve had possessed powerful projectors it had used for various purposes. Psychology had already seized at the H-gram's controls to flash a demonic face, formed from jagged red light that arced over the helmet, when he'd first tried it out. The Module called it his "war face" and was convinced (or perhaps, pretending to be convinced) that displaying it in combat would bring about significant tactical advantages.

The Infiltrator wasn't with him, and he was also one Module short. Aiming had stayed behind. While waiting the last few hours for the Phantom City to become available, he'd sent the Mask and three Modules into the Infiltrator. They'd used the accumulated Rotation Orbs, and the bot had now half-completed its "chest area"—the pair of lung Minor Nodes plus one kidney Minor Node were finished.

With the Orbs used up, Aiming was thus working on creating new Orbs while he and the others were in the City. Leaving one of the Modules in his base was also quite a salve on his and Threat Analysis' paranoia. There was no reason to suspect something might occur, but even so it was good to know the base was left in capable hands. The Assembler bots were capable of responding to threats on their own, but only in quite simple, direct ways. Aiming would be able to react far more intelligently should something happen, and over Local would be able to direct all machines left in the base.

The Phantom City was just as busy as last time. A great crowd of Earthborn and Cultivators filled the area, though this time there was no drawing into two sides. They regarded one another with wary familiarity. Certainly there was dislike, but it seemed to be tempered by a smidgeon of mutual respect. Or perhaps there was none of that and the only thing stopping instant challenges and insults was that they all had their attention drawn to what was new in the square.

Around the outsides there sprawled large, stage-like stands, six in total, each well separated from the other. Each stand was covered in flags and bunting, snapping in the sporadic wind, all with their own theme, colours and insignia.

Arrayed around each stage were undead guards, and mixed amongst them were People. These People all wore the most excessively ornate robes that he'd yet seen on their kind. On top of the stages themselves stood a few more People, who managed to be even more dressed up than those on the ground.

The ones on the stages were crying out loudly, their shouts competing over the crowd.

'Take your place in House Morvain! The mightiest house, the greatest house!'

'House Veyron is the strongest! Join us, and we will seize victory together!'

'Join Baxil and be rich! All soldiers are paid 25,000 points-tags per day of service!'

QUEST GAINED

New Quest — The War of the Houses

Noble Houses are looking to recruit Players within the Phantom City, preparing for the House War.

There are many possible benefits for those who take part in the War. By simply joining a House, and fighting within the House War, you will be able to complete this quest and gain a reward—even if your House ultimately loses and is destroyed.

However, if you are a member of the House that wins, you will receive a far greater reward.

Nicolai's eyebrows shot up. Well, well. This sounded very promising. Glancing around at all the excited Players, he knew that there would be many, many people looking to join a House.

He saw no reason not to be one of them. The simple fact was that you merely had to take part to gain a reward, and from what was being yelled, the Houses offered their own lucrative employment contracts to boot.

Peering closer at the stages, he saw that each came with its own brand of unusual undead. Standing either side of one stage were great fleshy titans. The humans milling around gave them wide berths. One of the most popular stages was flanked by two large ranks of black-armoured soldiers, presumably also undead. Another had strange, spindly bone-constructs, like someone had been piecing together all kinds of bones to make odd new beings.

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Alongside these strange undead, the stands also had what looked to him like People soldiers, and robed figures who he guessed were their dedicated necromancers. The soldiers, three-eyed and tentacled as usual, wore ornate armour, bore Imbued-looking weaponry, and seemed quite professional.

Nicolai was close to the stand with the bone constructs, spotting a free Person. The moment Nicolai caught that Person's eye, the Person smiled and beckoned him over welcomingly.

'What's this about?' asked Nicolai, stepping over.

The three-eyed man's Soul Sense briefly stretched to poke at Nicolai's own. What followed was a brief expression of disappointment. This was quickly replaced by the welcoming smile.

'Greetings, Player,' he said. 'I am recruiting for House Veyron. The greatest of the Noble Houses, in this Sector and all other Sectors. We are preparing for the House War, which will begin a month from now. At that point our House will work to seize control of this Sector, becoming its rulers.' He smiled. 'Players who aid us in achieving that will benefit greatly. How about you join us?'

'Really? You want me?' Nicolai made a doubtful expression. 'I am nothing special.'

'I know,' said the Person brusquely. 'And thus you could not apply for a higher role, but you could make a decent soldier. We always have need of them. Your rewards would still be great, certainly far more than those who refuse to join us, who join the wrong House.'

'What are these higher roles?'

The Person made a dismissive gesture. 'We have need of Players who stand out a little. Those who have more power. I see you are a Tournament winner, but winner or not, Tier 1 is too weak to properly serve in such a role. However, if you know any at Tier 2, or better yet Tier 3, please send them my way. I would pay you a finder's fee. In a few weeks we will start competitions, where we shall place all those interested in our higher roles in competition with one another, to determine who gains the role. Of course, if you are Tier 2 when that time comes, you could apply—though as a fresh Tier 2 your odds of winning would be low.

'In the meantime, serving as a soldier would net you many benefits—you might even be able to reach Tier 2, and could then apply to rise to a higher role. There are many opportunities within our House, for those with the ambition to rise.' Smiling expectantly, he held out his hand, on which rested a small golden orb. 'Simply tap this orb with your Marked hand, and we can begin the process.'

'What about them?' asked Nicolai, aiming his thumb at the stand directly opposite this one, on the other side of the street. The one, he'd noted, that matched this one in terms of opulence on display.

'Morvain?' The Person sneered, and retracted his hand as if stung. 'I suppose you might be able to find a position with them, if you're willing to lower yourself to such a standard.'

'Your rivals?' asked Nicolai, his gaze skimming over the rich display across the way.

'They imagine so. And perhaps they have some strength of their own, some cunning.' The Person's eyes were narrowed with hate and contempt. 'But they will learn, in the coming months, that House Veyron is superior. The born rulers of this Sector! Now, will you join, or are you a fool?'

Nicolai patted the air calmingly. 'Of course I'll join. But not at this moment, I have pressing business. Thank you for the information.'

'So be it. Make sure you make the right decision, when the time comes,' the Person murmured ominously.

Nicolai turned and left, moving thoughtfully. His first intended move upon arriving had been to head to the Information Guild. Now he'd scoped out what was happening here, he'd continue with that. Doubtless the Guild would be a better, less biased source of information on the House War anyway.

As he moved, his gaze caught on a pair of Cultivators. For some reason they caught at his eye, stood out in some manner from the crowd that flowed around him.

One of them was big and tall, a rugged, muscular man wearing equally rugged clothing. Furs and hide as opposed to the standard robes, but the man was still recognisably a Cultivator. The other was almost as tall but far slimmer, a pale, gaunt man wearing a black robe. On top of that he wore a belt of silver chain, from which more chains hung like a strange metal skirt.

The skinny man turned in a sudden jerk of movement to stare at Nicolai. As though the man had felt him look. His face was blank and slack, but all of a sudden he smiled, big and wide. Then he was striding toward Nicolai.

The other turned too, and his flat, brutish face adopted an equally big smile as he saw Nicolai, then he too was striding over.

Nicolai kept his own features carefully neutral as the two approached. These two wanted something. Their Soul Senses were well controlled, restricted to passive spheres, but from the depth he knew they were both Tier 2.

'Hello,' said the skinny one, stopping a short distance from Nicolai, smile unchanging.

'Hello,' said the big one, stopping beside the other, smile equally fixed.

'Hello,' said Nicolai, summoning up his own inane smile, displayed by the H-gram, and the three of them stood there smiling at one another. He waited for them to say what they wanted, but they just stood there, smiling. The silence stretched. He decided not to break it.

'Which House do you think is worth joining?' asked the big man after almost ten seconds. Enough time for him to have said something. Enough time for them to have recognised he would not. He felt absolutely nothing from their Souls, not even the slightest leakage, even with Cyberwarfare and Threat Analysis on the case. Threat Analysis did have one interesting fact to share: they had yet to blink, and not just while talking to him. Analysis of footage containing them showed that they had never blinked while in view of his skinsuit's cameras or drones.

'Why are you asking me?' he returned.

The pair paused, blankly smiling faces emanating a vague confusion.

'You look…' attempted the big man. 'Like you know what you are doing?'

'Yes, yes,' said the other. 'You have an… air. As some humans do. A certain… confidence. I think that is a good trait. I… like you?'

'I like you, too,' said the big man quickly, seeming somehow relieved. 'Which House?'

Nicolai simply gazed at them, silent, he and the Modules trying to work out what, exactly, was going on.

The pair, seeming to feel this, turned to look at one another. He saw them register one another's unchanging smiles.

There was a sudden rapid pulsing of ripples from the pair.

Ripple ripple ripple, went the skinny man.

Ripple ripple, replied the big man.

Threat Analysis told him this was definitely some form of communication, but not one they'd ever observed from other Cultivators. The typical Cultivator spiritual communication was entirely based on spiritual emanations, which were quite different to these ripples.

The pair dropped the smiles. With what looked like effort, they changed their expressions. This was quite an involved process involving flurries of twitches and the occasional spasm.

Nicolai watched, fascinated.

The pair turned back to him at last, expressions now frozen in a kind of apologetic consideration.

He almost felt that he owed them an applause, but managed to restrain himself.

'I apologise for our strangeness,' said the skinny one.

'We are travellers from, a far away foreign place,' added the other.

'What place?'

'It's a long way away. You would not have heard of it,' he replied.

'I might've. What's it called?'

Another brief flurry of ripples.

'It is called… Farawaya,' said the skinny man.

'I see. How very credible,' said Nicolai. 'By the way, you're forgetting to blink.' He blinked rapidly to demonstrate, and one of the Modules seized control of the H-gram to make his artificial face bulge a little larger, the eyes bigger, and its eyelids practically blurred with blinks.

The pair stared at this display… unblinkingly.

Ripple ripple.

They turned, quite suddenly, and walked quickly away from him.

Threat Analysis, Nicolai, and most of the other Modules were convinced that those two were not human. Psychology, playing devil's advocate, suggested they were simply deranged or suffering from some strange disorder, but he knew that in truth it agreed with the rest of them.

Watching, he saw the pair stop quite some distance away from him. They conferred without words then set their sights on a lone Cultivator. He saw them engage the man in conversation, and, looking carefully, he saw the pair were now blinking roughly every ten seconds. Whatever they were, they were learning.

Nicolai might've pursued this mystery further, but at that moment Threat Analysis, noticing something via the drones above, sent an alert.

Vikrum has your polearm.

His eyes widened, and he accessed the drone-feed it was sending.

There Vikrum was, striding through the crowd in a way that looked especially businesslike. A man on a mission.

Nicolai had a very good idea what that was. Vikrum was looking to spike his wheels.

He merged closer with the Modules, and especially Simulations. They traced out Vikrum's route to the only location he could be going: The Scoundrels Guild. It wasn't far, just down the street from here.

What could they do, in light of the City's Restriction?

Was it possible to seize the polearm, somehow? Unlikely. The Restriction was quite foolproof. None of them saw a method. Not to mention, if Vikrum had found his polearm, there might be other things. For instance, there'd been a particular SMG he'd used quite a bit, before putting it aside in favour of the AA-12. He didn't know what had happened to it, he'd just left it with the other things he didn't consider worth bringing.

Even if he did, somehow, manage to take the polearm from Vikrum… it had just become clear that eventually, someone would give the Scoundrels Guild something that was connected to him.

He needed to work out how to deal with the Blood Hunters, because they would soon be coming for him.

Nicolai turned and moved rapidly, striding through the crowd. The Information Guild would have the answers to that question and many more.

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