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“Enter.”
Nyx heard Saladin's muffled voice from the other side of the door and did as he was permitted. The room awaiting him was dimly lit, with only a few old, yellowed bulbs scattering light around the Iron Lord's desk. Nyx hadn’t ever seen the inside of Saladin Forge’s quarters before--he’d heard a rumour that the state of the Iron Lord’s personal chambers had become….well. A reflection of the state of his mind. Cluttered and chaotic. Turns out the rumours weren't far from the truth. Ikora had been worried about him, and while Nyx rarely ever saw eye to eye with the old man, he had to admit he felt the same.
Old man, Nyx chuckled to himself. He wasn’t that much younger than Saladin.
“Something amusing you?” Saladin asked with a voice like the cracking of icebergs.
“Nah, just thinking,” replied the Hunter.
“A first time for everything, I suppose.”
“Grandpa’s feeling feisty today,” Nyx smirked as he rested a hip against...what was that, a dresser? Very old fashioned. “You had some questions about our new Hunter?”
“Yes,” said Saladin, turning for the first time to acknowledge the Awoken man. “You’ve worked with him more than most. I would like your assessment of his readiness in the field.”
Nyx folded his arms over his chest. “He might be staying under the radar, but his range scores are in the database. Along with his reports.”
“Data and numbers are insignificant when compared to actual experience.” The old light was matter of fact in his delivery. “You can excel on the range but choke on the battlefield. You can pad a report with superfluous exposition without saying anything at all. I want to know what you’ve witnessed. What you’ve seen.”
Nyx nodded slowly, comprehending the old man’s words, though he pursed his lips. “Mind if I speak freely?”
“Odd of you to ask first,” said Saladin before gesturing for Nyx to proceed.
Nyx smirked, but it vanished just as quickly. Saladin was a hard read on the best of days, but he’d been even harder to figure out in recent times. His scowl was creased with new lines, his eyes more severe. He always carried a weight on him that would have buckled weaker shoulders. He hadn’t lost a step, at least not that Nyx had seen, but it was strange to see the old man’s shoulders sag. Nyx traced the scar across his brow in thought before continuing. “Well...it’s no secret that you and Crow have had a share of... heated discussions. I mean I’ve been there for a few of ‘em. What are you really getting at here?”
“You believe I’m looking for a reason to take him off the field.”
Nyx furrowed his brow. “I might’ve entertained the thought a few times, but...no. I’ve just never seen you take an interest in a new light since Zavala. And that was a long ass time ago.”
Saladin’s brows narrowed. He expected a more shallow appraisal of his actions from Nyx, the Hunter read. Saladin was quiet for a moment. Nyx was happy to wait. The old man was always purposeful with his words.
“I’m sure the identity of the Crow is known to you,” said the Iron Lord.
“Hm,” Nyx huffed a single breath of amusement. “You know I’ve argued the semantics of that thought with myself more than a few times. Crow is Crow, but...I’m guessing you’re talking about the other guy.”
“The Awoken Prince,” Saladin said with a nod. “Yes.”
“And you’re aware of my relationship with the Awoken Prince,” Nyx continued.
“A single shot to the throat,” said Saladin, his words surgical and indifferent. “It was not a quick death.”
“Nope.”
“And now you work alongside a man that wears an old enemy’s face.”
“I do.”
Saladin’s gaze turned from Nyx towards his window that overlooked the City below. “You are a Hunter. Your kind are no strangers to living lives away from the Tower. And yet you remain, working with that man. If there is a person in this City that I can trust to give me an honest assessment of the Crow’s flaws as well as his strengths, it’s you.”
If Nyx’s brows rose any higher they would have fused with his hairline. “That’s...quite a compliment, Sal.”
“It’s a fact, Hunter. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Nyx silently hoped that Dixie recorded that, but kept his focus on the conversation at hand. Arms still folded across his chest, Nyx dipped his chin in thought. “He has good instincts. Definitely born to be a Hunter. Even in unfamiliar terrain and extreme circumstances he can adapt quickly and confidently. It saved my ass when we were hunting the High Celebrant. Wouldn’t have been able to take it down without him.”
Saladin nodded, his expression caught in his impassive, perpetual scowl. “He is an emotional young light,” said the Iron Lord after a moment. “One that leads with his heart. Has this impaired your field operations?”
Nyx paused for thought, but shook his head shortly after. He didn’t really have to think on it. “He is...hopeful, yeah. And naive. But good . Like sure he’s great with a gun, and yeah, he knows his shit when it comes to tracking and taking down big targets. He’s beyond his years as far as that goes. But unlike those of us with more deaths under our belts, he…” Nyx narrowed his eyes, causing amber light to scatter across his coal dark lashes. “We’re always so ready to fight, right? Like...it’s been the same shit at our borders for centuries; Fallen, Cabal.” The Hunter shook his head. “War for us is our oldest tradition. It’s hard wired into our brains to be our immediate reaction. We see Fallen or Cabal and we see red. Crow, though. That goodness and I guess yeah even his naivete makes him look at everything differently. Being a Lightbearer doesn’t make you inherently good--I mean shit, we know that better than most. His experience with the Fallen--the Eliksni,” Nyx corrected himself, “and being so young? It gives him a different perspective. A newer one. Probably a better one, honestly.”
“That the Fallen and Cabal aren’t inherently evil,” Saladin suggested.
“I mean…” Nyx shrugged. “They aren’t. Case and point, look at Misraaks and House Light.”
“Some of them are as old as our grudges,” said Saladin. “Some of them you and I have fought before, including their Kell of Kells. What happens when our enemy is immune to reason and diplomacy? What happens when he’s presented with the ultimatum of kill or be killed?”
“He might regret it, but he won’t hesitate,” said Nyx with a nod. “Saw that first hand on the Shore with the Eliksni corrupted by the cryptolyths.”
Saladin’s scowl deepened for a moment and he fell into an introspective silence. Nyx read the lines in his rough brown skin, trying to pull the thoughts from the Iron Lord before he spoke them.
“I have heard stories of the Crow’s experiences before coming to the Tower,” said Saladin. Nyx noted a flare in the muscles of the Iron Lord’s jaw before he continued. “That he was subjected to cruelty by not only the Spider but some of our own.”
It was Nyx’s turn to scowl. He nodded. “Word got around fast that Uldren Sov was Cayde’s killer. As soon as his face started showing up where Guardians had reason to patrol he was...routinely tortured and murdered.”
“And yet he refused to abandon his duty as a lightbearer,” said Saladin. More to himself than to Nyx.
“Seeing a bit of yourself in him, old man?”
Saladin replied with silence.
“You know...losing Osiris was a big hit to him. Especially considering Osiris wasn’t even Osiris to begin with. Which...I mean the irony isn’t lost on me that both Uldren Sov and Crow have been manipulated by god like beings wearing the faces others. But the point is--like, sure he’s got me and Ikora looking out for him. But Ikora’s got her hidden and she’s working with Saint to find his man. And I’m out of the splice and into the leylines.” Nyx shrugged. “He could use someone reliable to fill that space.”
The Iron Lord lofted a thick brow. “You sound like Zavala."
Nyx shuddered. “Oh no no don’t say that.”
Saladin leaned back in his chair, tucking his chin towards his breastplate. The old light’s face became unreadable again, shifting back into that neutral scowl. Saladin, Nyx knew, was a good man. For all of the things Nyx had seen through his long years, he knew Saladin had seen more. Lost more. And yet here he still was--carrying the weight of that pain as if it wasn’t a Herculean task. Still fighting the good fight. If there was anyone that could support Crow in doing the same, it was Saladin Forge. And if there was anyone that could help the Iron Lord learn to see from different perspectives, it was Crow.
Nyx watched the time turn over several minutes before Saladin spoke again. “That is all, Hunter,” was all he replied with. “Dismissed.”
“Thank god, all of this business talk was starting to make me chafe. I mean look at this, are those hives? They feel like hives.”
“If you’re so keen to retire from your duties, then why are you still here?”
Nyx smirked before dragging a chair across the floor to the empty space at the side of Saladin’s desk. He plopped down and made a gesture with his hand, signalling Dixie to transmat his earlier acquisition. “Because I’m off duty,” said the Hunter, finally. “And I managed to find this while out on patrol earlier.” Two large, thick glass bottles materialised in Nyx’s lap, cradled against either of his hands. Dark amber liquid sloshed gently within and the Hunter noticed Saladin’s look of mild disinterest sharpen upon his noticing.
“Mead?”
“Yep,” said Nyx as he handed one of the large bottles over to the Iron Lord. “Found it in a cache in the boot of a rusted old car just outside of the Cosmodrome. Best guess is it was a few decades old before being sealed. Little bit of sediment in there, but should be as good as the stuff from back in the old days.”
Saladin eyed the bottle as if Nyx were handing him a crocodile on fire. After a moment, however, the old light nodded and accepted it. “Not much remains from the old days.”
“But we do.” A wry grin took to his lips as he unsealed the bottle and gave it a cursory sniff. “Still good.”
Nyx raised his bottle towards Saladin, and his brows in turn to suggest a customary cheers. The two old lights didn’t settle on a toast, but they clinked their bottles together just the same and drank together in silence.