The air elemental blanketed the Bronze-Hued Keep like a heavy fog on a cold morning. The soldiers stationed outside were the first casualties of the Elven assault on the manor of House Rithmound. The shadows contorted as Ket's magical sensors went off, the Inléan glancing outside to see Elven soldiers taking the courtyard. He whispered a few words to his guildmates.
And Alonso Moriguchi took point, stalking down the dark halls of the Bronze-Hued Keep, cracking his knuckles. He stopped one of Rithmound's guards.
“Where is the Doge?” he asked.
“Hidden away,” the guard replied, “In a bug out room.”
He hadn't told Moriguchi, nor any of the Exodus Walkers, where that might be. Smart. Moriguchi rolled his shoulders as he heard the first sounds of combat, at the front entrance.
Gunfire. His heart sank.
“Ah,” he said, “This... will prove difficult.”
Already he could hear strangled cries. Ket was already using his magic against them. Moriguchi could imagine a sea of darkness filling up the entrance hall, elves sinking down into it, into dark abysses and pits that only the rabbit knew.
Moriguchi, for not the first time, suppressed a shudder.
But...
But the shouts continued. The Roshador could hear footsteps, light and swift, down the hall-
The first elf had his rifle raised. But Moriguchi was on him in a moment, pushing the firearm's muzzle upwards as it opened fire. He jabbed the elf in the stomach, pushed him so his stance was wide, wrapped his arms around the rifle, pulled and kicked and wrenched it free. He spun it around on the elf.
“Sorry,” he said.
And he fired. He winced, his ears ringing, as the elf collapsed to the ground. Red blossomed and stained the floor.
Moriguchi kept the rifle aimed, waited for any others to come. But none did.
Ket emerged from the shadows on the wall, brushing a coat. He was breathing heavily, his eyes shiny and pearl-like against his jet black fur.
“They are still inside,” he said, “Three spellcasters. They evaded me.”
“I'll take the eastern wing,” Moriguchi said.
“I'll take the west,” Ket said. He began to slink back into the darkness, “I sent Khosrau out. He's warning the other Houses.”
“Good,” Moriguchi said, “Any idea how many were hit?”
“No,” Ket said. And he disappeared.
He could hear more screams down the hall. More gunfire. Moriguchi checked the rifle's clip. Only a few more shots left. Well, he had never been one for these sorts of weapons.
“I think I'll want a bonus,” he said to himself.
***
Khosrau found a problem as soon as he took flight.
The night was burning with fireworks, cacophonous and incoherent, a neverending display of light and flame. He, therefore, had to stick low to the ground, buzzing over the heads of the crowd, who looked up at him, at the sudden gale of wind his wings gusted up, at the droning sound he made.
He was being stalked. And he knew it.
Daggers flashed. One drove deep into his thorax, the sheer force of it almost blowing him off course and into a market stall. But he kept his pace, looking all around him with his 360 degree vision for his attacker.
There. Sifting through the crowds, the elf was pulling loose another dagger. She was wearing a whitewood mask, garbed in loose clothing, the hint of chainmail beneath her robes, her oversized sleeves. She was keeping pace with him, pushing people out of the way...
And, Khosrau noted just a moment too late, she was the distraction.
It was a novice move, on his part, as the second dagger twirled in the night. He was paying too much attention to her, the second one had leaped from the shadows, and he was too used to Ket being there for-
The knife tore through his wings. Khosrau plummeted. Crashed hard into the ground. Onlookers scattered at the sight of him, a few gasped and pointed. One even poured out his wine onto the dragonfly's head.
He could see the two of them approaching. Two elves. The dragonfly got up to his feet. He wasn't good at walking. He was a flier, and fliers flew, and-
Why wasn't anyone stopping them? The people of the Golden Round were already moving on, going back to their drinking and laughing and buying and selling. Damn them, there was just too much to-
A heavy boot landed in front of him. It belonged to a dwarf, one with a spellrod in hand and a toothpick in the other, he was picking out a quick snack from his teeth. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the approaching elves, slitting down to look at Khosrau on the ground in front of him.
“...You're part of the Exodus Walkers, right?”
Khosrau wheezed out a reply.
The elves had both stopped.
The dwarf looked around, glanced up at the fireworks.
“Well, now,” he said, “This isn't a good look, is it? Some guild spat?”
“...N...No,” Khosrau said.
One of the elves rushed forward. The dwarf glanced up. Flicked his spellrod-
And the elf began to float, as though the laws of gravity had given up on her. The dwarf flicked his spellrod up, and the elf flung off high into the sky.
The other elf surged forward, flipping out a couple of daggers, but the dwarf, rolling his eyes, twirled the rod. A shimmering field appeared in front of him, one that pushed out towards the elf, who, at the last moment, danced back, breaking off his attack.
But too late, as the field enveloped him. Cast his form into stone.
The dwarf looked down at Khosrau.
“There,” he said, “I'll send you an invoice, when we're all through.”
“Urash?” another voice said, “Urash, what the hell’s all this about?”
Another figure appeared. A girl with a keytar in hand, the tips of her spiked hair dyed purple.
“Elves,” Urash spat, “Looks like they were tryin' to claim one of the Exodus Walkers.”
The girl glanced down at Khosrau. Her eyes widened.
“Well, shit, dude,” she said.
She moved down to Khosrau’s side, winced at the sight of the dagger in his carapace.
“Here, help me,” she said.
“What?” Urash said, “It looks like a guild spat. Exodus Walkers probably pissed off the White Feathers. I’m not getting in the middle of that-”
“You just did, you moron,” the girl said, and she turned and glared at him, “I’m not going to just leave him in the street. Come on.”
“And why,” Urash said, “Would I do that?”
“Call it a gut feeling,” the girl said, and, thinking quickly, added, “Think of it as a chance to get into Ultan’s good graces.”
She stood back up, pressed a few keys on her instrument, and a blanket of light picked Khosrau up, and lifted him into the air. After shooting another dark look at Urash, she started to move off. Urash, after a moment, rolling his eyes, followed.
“And where,” he said, “Are we going?”
“Back to the guild.”
***
Guerico returned to Castle Belenus at the same time as G-Wiz and Urash. The front courtyard was littered in corpses. Blood stained the grass. Whiskey stood out front, the marionette stained red. Chadwick was on his shoulder, mewling and licking himself. His eyes were dancing with a glee not unlike when he found a stray mouse in the halls.
Fireworks boomed in the distance. Reds and greens, by now the sky was starting to choke from the smoke.
“Greetings, Urash,” Chadwick said, “How nice, you've made a friend.”
“Bah,” Urash said, “Spare me your barbs, cat.”
G-Wiz was looking at the bodies on the ground. She stooped to study one of them. An elf, his eyes opened wide in the shock of the end. He was wearing armor beneath his robes, scaled with leaves and beautifully decorated. An art piece, as much as a piece of protection. An assault rifle lay in the grass a bit of a ways from him.
He had been killed by strangulation. Deep purple welts on a thin throat.
G-Wiz glanced over at Whiskey.
“Wakeling let us have our fun,” Chadwick mewled, “She joined in, too, if you want to look at a few of them. Look at those piles of jelly, over there.”
The Electron didn't.
Guerico spoke up. He was sticking to the wall by the entrance.
“I gotta get to the boss,” he said, “Where is she?”
“In her office,” Chadwick said.
The Abstract Man gave a thumbs up, slid between the cracks in the door and made his way in.
“Elenry still in there?” Urash asked.
“Hasn't left,” Chadwick said, “Something about keeping Rosemary company, I don't know.”
The dwarf let out a huff. He grumbled to G-Wiz to follow him, and they went inside.
Most of the guild was out in the city. To see the Great Hall empty like this, with the fireworks roaring in the distance, colored orange by the glass panes, gave the Electron an eerie feeling. So, too, did the two body-less arms floating in the air, pointing at the entrance. Thin. Veined. Wakeling's. G-Wiz swallowed at the sight of them.
“She... she's going all out, isn't she?”
“All out?” Urash said, “Bah. If she were, she'd have the body and legs out, too. Now shut up and get the dragonfly to the infirmary.”
G-Wiz flipped him off, moving him over to the medical wing. Elenry took one look at the dragonfly, and rolled her eyes.
“I expected one of us,” she said, “Maybe Dama Runebreaker. Who is this?”
“I dunno,” G-Wiz said, “Someone from the Exodus Walkers.”
The gloivel let out a huff, but let him inside. Rosemary was looking over at them from her bed, her brow knit in worry. Elenry got to work on tending to the dragonfly, checking over the frayed remains of his wing, the dagger still thrust into his thorax.
“This,” she said, “Will need to go. Urash, make yourself useful, and magic it out.”
“I don't take orders from you-”
She glared at him. Urash coughed. And was cowed. He whispered a spell to himself, and the knife disappeared, flickering into his hand a moment later. The dragonfly let out a wheeze as the now-exposed wound started to bleed, but Elenry got to work on patching it up.
G-Wiz leaned against the wall, keeping out of the way as Elenry worked. Her guildmate was fast, working quickly to stop the bleeding, to get the worst of it out of the way.
“There,” she said, “You won't die, at least. But there's still work to be done.”
“Th-thank you,” the dragonfly said, “I... I owe you one.”
“Well, I'll cash that favor in now, then,” Wakeling said behind them. They turned to see their guildmaster floating into the room. Guerico painted the wall behind her, easing himself in carefully. As though something might set her off. For the look that Wakeling was giving them was one of thinly-veiled rage.
“They attack my home,” she said, “They try and hurt my family. I'll have Sunala's head, I think. I'll wrench it off myself. I'll-”
“Vyde,” Elenry said, “No violence in the infirmary.”
“I...” and Wakeling sighed, looking at the dragonfly, “You're... Khosrau, aren't you?”
“You know my name.”
“I know the names of each of you Exodus Walkers here in the city,” Wakeling replied, “I make a point of it. Guerico's caught me up on what's going on.”
Rosemary leaned in. Urash feigned apathy, but he kept a sideways glance at the guildmaster.
“Sunala's trying for a coup, people,” Wakeling said, “They're hitting the Grand Commons as we speak. Khosrau, I need you to tell me where you've been.”
“They're attacking the Bronze-Hued Keep,” the dragonfly replied, “I think they took the prison, too.”
Wakeling nodded.
“I'm going to send out a mental communication,” she said, “Out to those of us in the city.”
“Wakeling,” Urash said, “This isn't up to us.”
“Isn't it?” Wakeling said.
“You had to kill two elves to even get here,” G-Wiz said, “Don't be a dick, Urash. Just this once.”
“I did that to defend myself,” Urash said, “This... this is different. This is a guild taking part in the affairs of a government without a binding contract.”
Wakeling glared at him. For a moment, G-Wiz was afraid she was going to call her hands in from the Great Hall and throttle him.
“It sets a bad precedent, Wakeling,” Urash said, “If we involve ourselves here, it could be considered a breach in the Law of InterGuild.”
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Horseshit,” Rosemary said.
They turned to her.
“It's... Sunala,” Rosemary said, “She's a supremacist. A fascist. She targeted us. Specifically.”
“Her politics don't matter,” Urash said, “She targeted us, and we responded. That's it. We aren't getting paid to go the extra mile.”
“Oh, shut up,” Rosemary said. She moved to get out of bed.
“Rosemary,” Elenry said, and the gloivel rushed to her side, “Rosemary, don't.”
“I'm fine,” Rosemary said. Only a bit of color had returned to her face. She swayed when she stood, as she pushed Elenry's hands out of the way, “It does matter what Sunala's politics are. It does matter what her views are, and what she's doing. She's already shown us that we're not welcome here, if she takes over the city.”
“We can smooth things over,” Urash said, “Money is power, is it not?”
“Are you seriously talking about bribing the Verdant Reclamation?” Rosemary snarled, “What, let us stay while they kill everyone else?”
Urash was quiet. He looked away. All of them were silent. They could hear the fireworks through the walls. The wheezing as they soared into the sky, the bursting pops, like gunshots, as they exploded.
“...Boss,” Guerico said, “You wanna tell them?”
“Tell us what?” Rosemary said.
Wakeling was looking down. Her head bobbed in the air, up and down, shuddered a bit, like a rogue planet, before she looked over at Rosemary.
“Joseph's in the Grand Commons,” she said, “He's fighting them now, defending the Lady Deirdre.”
And the witch knew, at that moment, that nothing was going to dissuade Rosemary. A coldness took over in the young woman's eyes, and she started to move. Elenry re-doubled her efforts to get her to lie down.
“No, El,” Rosemary said, “Let go of me, let go of me, I need to-”
“You're still sick,” Elenry said, “You're in no shape for a fight.”
“I am!” Rosemary said, “Let go of me!”
G-Wiz let out a huff.
“Joe, huh?” she said, “Forgot that you let him out of the cage for a little while.”
“Trust me,” Wakeling said, “I didn't expect him to be caught up in something like this.”
Elenry wrestled Rosemary back to the bed. She was practically screaming now.
Wakeling took a deep breath.
“...He's family,” she said.
“He sure makes it hard to treat him like it, sometimes,” G-Wiz said.
But she was already shouldering her Zumbelaphone. Ready to move out.
“Well, he's getting better,” Wakeling said, “And so must we.”
Urash closed his eyes. Sighed.
Wakeling's eyes flashed silver.
And she sent out the message.
***
Broon looked up. Glanced over at Ezel. The guildmaster's voice rang in both of their heads.
“Joe,” Broon said.
His new scar still smarted, where the Pantheon crusader had torn his chest open. He was carrying a new sword after losing Kilnriv, but the weight was off. But, nonetheless, the half-orc rose from where he had been sitting in the Horrid Welt. Ezel joined him, that cheery, half-drunk smile of hers melting into a look of concentration. She gave a nod to Dama Runebreaker in the corner, and the dwarf, rolling her eyes, rose up to join them. The three of them walked out the door, the sounds of the Golden Round surrounding them, even here in the slums. Broon was already pulling his new blade free.
***
“Joseph,” Tek said.
He felt the name float in his mind for a few moments, linger in his memories. A few of them apathetic, one of them terrible. For the mound had trusted Joseph, had trusted him to be there, as any guildmate should.
But Joseph hadn't. He had left.
Tek considered that, ruminating on Wakeling's message. He had been shopping at one of the market stalls, picking over a few pretty gemstones that he was decently sure he could pay Urash to appraise and cut for a piece of machinery he had been working on. Calacious Nine floated by him. Evidently they had also heard Wakeling's message, and they were flashing purple to red at him.
“Aye,” Tek said.
He looked down at the gemstone. Sighed.
“I'm not doing this for him, though,” Tek said, “He's... apologetic. He's working at it. But...”
Calacious Nine flashed green in question.
The mound nodded.
“I suppose I can be professional about this,” Tek said, “Business first, eh?”
He paid for the gemstone. Stuck it into a bag.
And moved off to help fight off a coup. The jellyfish followed.
***
Joseph.
Becenti had gone underground, moving through the cavernous network beneath Scuttleway. He had never much relished fireworks. They reminded him of gunshots, of darker days, of the warzones of his distant past. So, every year, he went into the earth, as though it were a religious ceremony of some sort. He would ignore the crab farmers still working in the shallow lakes beneath the city and lean against the wall, or sit down at one of the chairs provided for the nobles who trawled the caves to see their industry. This year, he was tempted to give into his darker impulses and have a drink. But he fought that off, pushed it down with the discipline he had forged for himself so long ago.
But the temptation called at him. Beckoned, like a toxic ex-lover.
And Wakeling's voice echoed in his mind.
Joseph.
A metahuman, like him. One who had...
Who had become like a son to him. Becenti was on his feet at once, weaving his way back up to the surface. He could hear the fireworks going off. Well, it was a coup, wasn't it? He would be in a warzone yet. His heart thumped with a bitter anticipation.
It was warm as he walked out of the cave. Good. It gave him plenty to work with. The old metahuman raised a hand. The air rippled around it in a mirage.
In a shimmer.
Despite himself, he gave a dark smile.
***
“You heard the message,” Mekke said to Barbara.
The great toucan bobbed her head in a nod. The two of them were methodical and cool. Tiger was wielding the emerald-crusted scimitar he had traded for at InterGuild. The blade had a peculiar song to it as it whistled through the air, as it rang against the eln meia's steel.
Doubtless, he had heard the message, too. But Tiger was one who reveled in combat, and he did not have time to process what Wakeling was saying. This eln meia was far too skilled for him to lose his concentration. in the colosseum. Far below, they could see Tiger dueling against the traveling eln meia, the two of them waltzing around one another in a dance of steel. The eln meia wielded twin cutlasses, her strikes practiced and quick.
But not Mekke. She was already rising, drawing her sword and inspecting it for any abnormalities. A habit of hers, really, she had already oiled and sharpened it this morning. Barbara was rising, too.
A coup was taking place.
And Joe was involved.
“Well,” Barbara said, “At least he's earning his bread.”
Tiger was sheathing his blade. The eln meia was giving him a quizzical look. But Tiger withdrew from their duel, stepping away. The crowd below started to boo him, but he ignored their barbs as he moved out of the arena.
Barbara was already taking off into the night, barreling out of the way of still-rising fireworks. Mekke went down to meet Tiger, who gave her a nod as the two of them walked side by side.
***
“Mr. Vicenorn,” Wakeling said, “You'll stay here.”
The awkward frame of Vicenorn had stepped out of his room. A faceless head, skull-like and made of metal, looked down at the guildmaster. His voice came out tinny and garbled, despite the progress he had made.
“I need to help,” he said.
“You'll only get yourself killed, Vicenorn,” Wakeling said.
“It's a coup. It's my city,” Vicenorn said, “I can't live through that again. The last time...”
He trailed off. Wakeling sighed.
“I'll connect you to the spell I'm working on,” she said, “No, no, this is good. This means that I'll be able to take the field. You'll be mission control for this one. Understood?”
“Thank you, Vyde,” Vicenorn said, “I'll... I'll make it up to you.”
“Make it up to me by doing well,” Wakeling said. She turned to the others. By now, they were all in the Great Hall. Most of them were about to move out into the city, “Alright, the lot of you. Here's the plan. I've been trying to reach out to the Militia and to House Rithmound, to see who's left. You're to rendezvous with them and your guildmates at the Bronze-Hued Keep to save the Doge. From there, you’re to go and assist Joseph at the Grand Commons itself.”
“What about you?” G-Wiz asked.
“I’ll be accompanying you to the Bronze-Hued Keep,” Wakeling said,“I won’t be there long, just to make sure people get there safely. I’ll be taking the prison. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take it on my own.”
She glanced at the faces in the room. G-Wiz. Urash, scowling. Guerico. A few others. Most of her family was out in the city, making their way to the Doge's position. She could almost imagine them all staring at her. She took a deep breath.
“This is going to be dangerous, all of you,” she said, “This is an active combat situation. I want you all to watch each other's backs, and I want you all to stay alive. Am I clear?”
They muttered their assents. She forced herself to wear a smile.
“Good,” she said, “Now, let's go.”
***
Becenti was among the first of the Amber Foundation to arrive at the Bronze-Hued Keep. He set himself across the street, in a snug alleyway between two buildings, glancing over his shoulder for a moment to make sure that he did not share the shadows. He could still hear gunfire coming from inside the building, difficult to suss out with the droning of the fireworks above. The wall surrounding the manor blocked all secrets, so Becenti, after a moment, made for the entrance. The two guards that guarded the door into the courtyard were dead, and the door was unlatched, its lock slashed through. It opened without a fuss. Becenti veiled a shield of heat over his arm, keeping it in front of him as he stepped into the courtyard. Corpses littered the front. Becenti took a deep breath.
“Hey, boss.
He nearly jumped. Guerico was next to him, painted on the wall.
“Guerico,” Becenti said.
“Broon's on his way here,” the Abstract Man said, “So's Ezel. Tiger and Mekke. Pretty much everyone.”
Becenti's eyes narrowed.
“Wakeling turned out everyone, did she?”
“Boss herself's on her way.”
The old metahuman grimaced.
“Then it's over,” he said, “She'll take out the elves, and half the city, if she's not careful.”
“She's only bringing an arm,” Guerico said.
More gunshots from inside. A scream.
Footsteps from behind. Becenti checked to see Broon approaching, his sword drawn. Ezel trailed behind him a few steps away, G-Wiz and Urash too. Whiskey trundled forward, and...
And Wakeling herself.
“Vyde,” Becenti said.
“Myron. What's the status?”
“I just got here,” Becenti said, “Looks like there's still fighting. You've notified the Exodus Walkers that we're going in?”
Wakeling's eyes flashed silver.
“They know now,” she said.
Tiger and Mekke were streaming in. Tek and Calacious Nine. Dama Runebreaker. Nova, too, the neon elemental glowing like a bright green sun. Gouffant was skittering on one of the nearby rooftops. Orion's sword was already ablaze with fire. G-Wiz started keying a few notes on her Zumbelaphone. Archenround was slithering forward, Sign-Blade in hand. A few members of the Militia were here, too, their weapons drawn, clubs and maces and swords.
“It'll be an indoor fight,” Becenti said, “Keep that in mind. Let's go.”
He turned, and he ran across the courtyard. A couple of elves had been posted outside, but Gouffant and Nova took them out before they could call out, the great rat pouncing on the one on the wall, Nova firing off beams of plasma at the one overlooking one of the terraces, spearing them through. Becenti wrenched open the door-
To see that the entrance hall was caked in the remains of shadow. Still more bodies were here, the primary thrust of the Elven assault blunted by...
Ket.
The Exodus Walker. The black rabbit. He stood in the center of the room, on his knees, his entire body covered in slashes, cuts, and bruises. One of his ears had been almost cleanly shorn away by an errant blade. His nice suit was in tatters. His remaining eye slid over to the newcomers.
It relaxed in relief. And then he collapsed. Dama Runebreaker ran to his side, checking him over as the rest of the group took the entrance hall, checking for any signs of immediate danger.
“Teams of three!” Becenti said, “Secure the place, go!”
And they moved out. Becenti found himself moving with G-Wiz and Broon down the hall. They made for the direction of the gunfire.
They found a few of the elves holed up in one of the dining rooms. House Rithmound soldiers were at its entrance, one of them attending to his comrade, patching up a grisly-looking gunshot wound. Alonso Moriguchi was with them. The Exodus Walker was covered in blood, not much of it his own, but his nice suit had been torn to pieces and there were a couple rips in his mask. He still waved at Becenti, gesturing him to keep away from the door.
“They're locked down tight in there,” Moriguchi said, “Gunman inside. Three others, as far as I can tell.”
They heard the gunshots in another part of the building go silent. Followed by Urash barking out “Clear!”
Becenti pulled in ambient heat. Formed it into a wall.
“I'll take point,” he said, “G-Wiz. Get the gunner. Broon, you're next. The rest of you come in after. Kill anyone you see.”
He took a deep breath. Nodded to Moriguchi.
Who pulled open the door.
At once the elf inside opened fire, a hail of bullets that plinked uselessly against Becenti's wall of heat. He pushed himself into the room. The elves had kicked over the circular dining table in the room's center, using it as cover. Already the elf was jumping on top of it, though, trying to move around the metahuman's shield.
They were used to having the ranged advantage. Of using bows and arrows that struck into precise chinks in the armor, with trusting more in their speed than in hunkering down. The elf was a fool, he had allowed his natural instincts to take over-
Becenti spun the shield, trusted in Broon to block the thrown dagger that whizzed towards his head from the elf's compatriots. The half-orc was already slashing at the table, cutting it in two.
G-Wiz fired off a beam of light from her Zumbelaphone. It cracked hard like a fist into the gunner's stomach, shoving him into the wall. He collapsed, groaning, clutching his stomach-
As the head of the beam of light shoved down on his head. Once, then twice.
Broon, meanwhile, was slashing at the other remaining elves. A few of Rithmound's men were joining him, their side of the room a flurry of steel and wood. Moriguchi weaved his way in, curling a hand into a claw and tearing out an elf's throat.
It was over in a moment. Broon ran the last elf through.
Becenti looked around, checked the room for any hiding spots.
“Clear!” he shouted.
He could hear more of his guild yelling out. Room by room, they were clearing out the Bronze-Hued Keep.
It was over in a few minutes.
***
In truth, it had been Ket who had done the majority of the work.
He had kept as many elves as he could in the entrance hall, shadows swirling, ripping them to shreds. Blood and darkness stained the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Those elves who had managed to get past his defenses found themselves in the labyrinth that was the Bronze-Hued Keep, lost in rooms of stone and mundane miscellanea, to be picked off by the roving bands of Rithmound soldiers that knew the manor better than they.
As had been intended by the building's architect.
When, at last, the last of the invaders had been cleared out, Doge Rithmound emerged from his hiding place. He was already in armor, a blade strapped to his side. His eyes glittered at the sight of the red stains in his home. At the corpses that were already being cleared away and thrown into the courtyard.
“Guildmaster Wakeling,” he said, “It is good to see you here.”
Wakeling nodded.
“One of our own is wrapped up in all of this,” she said, “We thought we'd help him out, a bit.”
Rithmound glanced. At the number of Amber Foundation that she had brought along. Wakeling herself floated in the air, her arm swirling around her like the ring of a gas giant. She was smiling serenely, but her eyes blazed with a dark sort of fury.
“Of course,” Rithmound said, “What news do you bring?”
She caught him up to speed. Rithmound nodded.
“Securing the prison is tantamount to our success,” he said, “No doubt that Sunala's already sent out squads to secure other major parts of the city. But that prison is in the dead center. It means more to us than the Grand Commons at this time.”
Wakeling could see G-Wiz open her mouth to say something, but then close it. Joseph was still in the Grand Commons, and any delays to getting there would make his situation worse. The guildmaster caught her eye, and nodded.
“Leave the prison to me,” she said, “Any force you can mount, send it to the Grand Commons. I suspect that Sunala will be there.”
“On your own?” Rithmound asked.
And at that, Wakeling's grin went from professional to devilish.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I was at Evukor, Doge Rithmound. I was the one who turned things around.”
The hobgoblin considered her words. Then gave a curt nod. Something akin to fear danced in his eyes now.
“Right,” he said, and he turned, “All of you, let's move.”
The Amber Foundation, the remainders of the Scuttleway Militia, and the soldiers of House Rithmound moved off. The fireworks glittered overhead. Always going off. As though they were a thousand colored eyes, watching the battle play out.
***
Rosemary was alone in the medical bay. Elenry had gone out with the others as a field medic, to patch up wounds and (god forbid) give last rites to the dying. She was sure that the only other people in the guildhall now were Shambling and Vicenorn.
That was good. It meant no one could stop her. She threw off her covers and sheets, moving off of the bed. She was just wearing a simple gown, not unlike the hospital wear found on planes like Prime, and she was glad that it was a warm night out as she tiptoed across the infirmary and to Elenry's office. The gloivel was far too trusting – she had kept it unlocked. Rosemary went inside, beelined for one of the chests at the end of the room by her desk. She picked out her cloak. Slipped on her boots, checked the charge on her sceptre. Lylana still had not repaired her armor, there were still rips and tears from her time with Ora Sota. But it would do. She pulled it on.
She rose to her feet. Unsteadily at first, stumbled for a second, before she caught herself, her brow knitted in determination.
She opened the door out into the Great Hall.
Vicenorn was there, just at the base of Glass Slipper's garden. A spell was in his patchwork hands, and he was mumbling to himself.
Rosemary made for the guildhall's entrance.
“Ah, Rosemary,” Vicenorn said.
She turned.
“Didn't Elenry tell you to stay?”
“She did,” Rosemary said.
“But you're going anyway.”
“Joe's out there, Vicenorn,” Rosemary said, “You know I have to go out there.”
Vicenorn was quiet. Part of him, she knew, wanted to still stop her. For part of him was right. She was still weak, part of her was still empty after her fight with Adonal Adaya. And yet...
“You care about him,” he said.
She...
She had not yet been able to put her thoughts on Joe into words. Something bubbled within her, some soundless thing that was raw and real and filled her idle thoughts.
All she could do was nod.
And, perhaps, Vicenorn recognized that feeling in her, for he recognized it within himself.
“Go, then,” he said, “I wouldn't be able to stop you anyways. Just... be careful.”
She considered him for a moment, before moving off. Forced open the front doors, moved past Whiskey, who was silent as he watched her weave down the path that led to the city, down the street, and out of sight.
Above, the fireworks roared.