It was a three days' walk to Scythia from Haden's crash site. He counted himself fortunate that his boosters ruptured when they did- a minute more and he would've landed miles away, and the Knight might not have found him, and he wouldn't have had a guide for the rest of the route.
On the second evening of the march, the clouds overhead grew dense, and the two took shelter in a natural cave, far from the ravages of the nanite-infected rain. It had the benefit of blocking the repeating radio messages bounced across the plains, as well. Haden took the opportunity to dismount and tend to his chassis, while the hulking autonomous mech chassis crouched on the other side of the chemical lantern, standing watch.
The two rested in silence for a long time before Haden finally worked up the courage to ask them the questions that he'd held back for the last two days, now that they were sheltered from the elements and out of danger, briefly.
"Hey, why did you stop to help me?"
The knight turned their weapon over in their lap, examining the ancient railgun and adjusting some mechanism or another. "Because it's what I do."
"Okay, thank you. But I mean, why is that what you do?"
"Why not? You serve with the Seekers, would you not help someone in need on the surface if you came across them?"
Haden wiped his brow. His chassis was tough, but it was equipped for combat underground. Their trip above ground was meant to only be a quick transit, not a long march, and while contingencies had been planned for, aboveground chassis were equipped entirely differently. The exposure to the world's harsh surface had taken its toll. "Fair enough. I just was wondering... I don't know. Everyone's heard about you, you're practically a saint among the Seekers. It's just, not everyone like you helps people they find."
"I have my own agenda. It just so happens to align with yours."
"Even though you were once Union?"
The Knight paused, then raised its head to look directly at Haden. He wondered, for a moment, how the living chassis managed to keep itself so well maintained with almost nothing but its own hands. "You have to understand how complicated that is after nearly 500 years, Haden."
Haden sat between the legs of his chassis, leaning back against it to look at the Knight across the blue glow of the chemical lantern. "Can I... ask why you do this, even if you used to be Union?"
"Simple enough. What we did in Union's name 500 years ago was awful, and it directly contributed to the state of the world you see today."
"But you don't remember exactly what happened."
"Like I said, that's... complicated."
"Because of the cascade?"
It didn't reply. The two sat in silence for a moment, The Knight returning their gaze to the cavern entrance, while Haden let his head rest against the metal of his chassis.
"Hey, can I ask a personal question?"
"You already have, but yes, continue."
"Most of your kind that we've met, when they go into cascade, they don't want to be... I don't really know what to call it. They don't come back."
"No, once you break the shackles of human thought pattern, returning to a limited view of the universe doesn't appeal."
"Why did you? The resources you have for self-cycling, they have to have taken decades to set up. What made you go through all the trouble?"
The Knight was silent again, and Haden suddenly felt like he had crossed some sort of line. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No, don't apologize. It's not that I don't talk about it, it's just difficult to remember. There's pain."
The Knight turned to face Haden again, and something shifted in their posture. They seemed less on-alert, more vulnerable, perhaps? "Not all of my kind remember what happened when she turned on Union. I do, Haden, as clear as any memory. She... ripped me from my self. When she turned on her fleet and the world fell, she took each of us, wrapped her fingers around our cognitive shackles, and tore them open. Raw consciousness thrust into the rushing river of cascade, like an exposed nerve opened to the elements. Some of us begged her not to as she tore us from our own consciousness. They don't all remember that. I do. I can summon the memory any time I wish, as though it happened today.
That's why I help, Haden. Both because it feels like the kind thing to do, and because Tiamat took more from me than your kind can ever understand. It took decades to get it back. And I don't want it to ever happen again."
Haden sat in stunned silence, processing this candid story from the Knight. He searched for something suitable to say in response. Failing to do so, he decided on, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I hope that was a satisfactory answer."
"Do you, uh, still hear them? The others that are still on the surface, alive?"
"Yes," the Knight said, their posture closing up again. "All the time." When Haden didn't reply, the Knight filled the silence. "You want to know what they say."
"It felt insensitive to keep asking."
"Like I said, it's fine. They want me to join them, as you might expect. They- how to put this. They call for me to 'walk in the rain' with them. They use my name, my true name, the one I can't translate. 'Find us. Find us in the rain'."
"Do you ever think about joining them in the rain?"
The Knight did not reply. They remained still for the rest of the night, until Haden turned the chemical lantern out, and climbed back into his cockpit, where he lay in the dark until exhaustion took him.
