“Barty, you’re in first.”

Larek sighed when Penelope called Bartholomew by the nickname she had given him all the way back at Fort Pinevalley, but his old bodyguard deigned not to notice. He had evidently come to the conclusion that the blue-haired woman wasn’t going to ever call him by his proper name, so he simply ignored it – which the Fusionist thought was probably a good idea by that point. He also thought that Bartholomew going first was also a good idea, as the former Noble knew the people of the SIC better than he did, and he didn’t want to accidentally kill someone who didn’t deserve it.

Not that there was too much chance of that, as he could tell by the magical signatures down below that there weren’t any particularly strong individuals inside the building. There was always a possibility that he was wrong, but he didn’t believe that was the case.

Having parked The Hopper so that it was slowly bobbing up and down approximately 10 feet above the roof of the SIC headquarters building, which was a sprawling, 8-floor structure that could house thousands of people, Bartholomew dropped down through one of the holes used for attacking monsters down below the vehicle, and the rest of the Volunteer squad followed quickly after him. Larek and his friends took up the rear, letting the others go first, as he didn’t really expect them to run into anything that would harm them. If the building had been full, he might have gone in right after Bartholomew to deal with any major issues that may have made themselves known; but as it was, he didn’t think there was any need.

Still, he didn’t hesitate to quickly follow everyone down the roof hatch that Bartholomew ripped open with a surge of Stama through his arms and a stab of his Sharpen-edged spear to break the lock. When they descended the ladder leading to the roof, Larek found that they had emerged into a large, mostly empty room that had a locked door as the only entrance or exit. The walls were constructed of finished planks of wood, and a bit of nostalgia flowed through him as he recognized it as Rushwood, just like the trees he used to fell during his life as a Logger.

His attention was pulled away from the memories of that time, as well as the nascent thoughts of his family, as Bartholomew again used his spear to cut through the lock on the door, in fact carving out the entire handle, before kicking it open.

Through the now-open doorway, Larek could see an enormous, open space hundreds of feet wide and deep, with structural columns made of stone arranged in rows that held up the roof, with magical lights created from crude, Basic, Magnitude 1 Illumination Fusions attached to the columns inside an iron sconce. He was somewhat surprised to see them, though he felt slightly disgusted at how poorly they were constructed, but he supposed that the SIC had always utilized Fusions in small capacities – just not on the same level as his own creations.

Tables and chairs were set up, all throughout what appeared to be a large meeting space, which was designed to hold a thousand people or more, but all of them were vacant; they weren’t just empty, but many of the tables and chairs were knocked over, as if a whirlwind had gone through everything – or many people had left in a hurry and didn’t care about what kind of mess they left behind. From all that he could see, he thought it was more likely to be the latter.

Around the perimeter of the large, jumbled space were a series of doors set into the walls. From a general perspective, he expected these to be the offices of the higher-ups in the SIC leadership that Bartholomew had mentioned – and it was also from there that he felt the strongest magical signatures. As Bartholomew started heading for what Larek assumed was one of the General’s offices, the Fusionist got his attention and pointed to a different door, one that was still closed while the others were open. He could feel two distinct magical signatures behind the door; there were about a dozen much weaker signatures down below, scattered throughout the building, but he figured that they would get their answers from whoever was still up here.

Smoothly switching his destination, Bartholomew navigated his way around toppled tables and chairs, the Volunteers following after with only about half as much dexterity, but his old bodyguard didn’t arrive too long before the others caught up. When they were all ready, Bartholomew kicked open the door, ripping it completely off the hinges as he led the way inside.

By the time Larek and his friends managed to squeeze themselves inside, Bartholomew and the other Volunteers had their weapons pointed toward two individuals, a man and woman with the Kingdom’s features prevalent in their appearance. They were backed up against the far wall, their hands up and away from the staff that the man had dropped at his feet and the pair of shortswords attached to the woman’s belt.

What was strange about the whole situation, however, was that the two of them – instead of looking scared or angry at the sudden intrusion and threatening stance of the intruders – appeared relieved for some reason.

“Mygor? Paluna? What are you two doing here? Where is everyone else?” Bartholomew asked, even as he seemed to relax his stance a little bit. None of the Volunteers moved from where they were, but Larek could feel a slight loosening of the tension they felt at the situation, thanks to the fact that Bartholomew apparently knew these people – at least according to his tone.

Friends of his, perhaps? Or just acquaintances?

“Barkus? Is that really you?” It took Larek a moment to remember that Bartholomew had gone by a different name in the SIC while he attempted to distance himself from his Noble heritage.

Bartholomew nodded. “Yes, it’s me. What happened? What’s going on here?” He seemed to remember the presence of the Volunteers nearby, so he turned to them and gestured for them to put down their staves and other melee weapons pointed threateningly at those he was addressing. “It’s fine; these are two of the Lieutenants that I mentioned before, and they are also in the small group whom I couldn’t see following all their orders blindly.”

The two Lieutenants put their arms down as soon as the Volunteers withdrew their weapons, visibly sagging in relief. “Thanks,” the woman, Paluna, said after a moment. “Barkus, how did you survive? Last I heard, you were caught in the whole fiasco down south, perhaps even ending up with a bug in your head. That’s not to mention rumors of some sort of organization trying to take control of the region… oh. This is that organization, isn’t it? ‘The Volunteers’ or something like that?”

“Something like that. Suffice it to say that I’m with them now,” Bartholomew replied, before getting back to what was more important. “Ultimately, what happened to me doesn’t matter; what does matter is what happened here,” he said pointedly.

The two Lieutenants looked at each other before they shrugged, almost in unison. “The Calamity is what happened,” the Mage name Mygor finally said.

Larek walked up, gently pushing aside the Volunteers in his way. “Explain,” he demanded. The seeming dodginess of these people was making him trust them less and less.

“Uh… whoa. Wait, you’re him, aren’t you? The Fusionist? I had heard you were a Gergasi, but I didn’t believe it,” Paluna stated, her mouth open in shock. Larek just stared at her, not wanting to explain himself yet again, and the weight of his stare seemed to knock the shock right out of her as she shook herself. “Yes, well, uh, the Calamity. Where to begin?”

She took a deep breath before she turned back to Bartholomew, telling him rather than Larek, as if that would make her feel better.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“First, shortly after you left, Barkus, plans for the closure of the Calamity sped up dramatically. The closure of the Steel Slime Calamity lit a fire under the Generals, and they knew that the only way they could maintain their power was to discredit those who closed it, while also closing one of their own – while leaving this region well-prepared for the aftermath. Since the majority of the planning and preparation had already been done, General Maxwell pushed to begin the process immediately, and the orders were communicated all throughout the border region that the timeline had been pushed up.

“This was our first mistake, and it definitely wasn’t the last; we moved too fast, too soon, but the General was beyond caring about the danger at that point.

“Though the majority of those within range of Kilvering were as prepared as they could be, not all of the regions were ready when the call to go was issued. Initial estimates put at least 10% of the northeastern border as having been caught completely off-guard, and they only received the communication to mobilize hours or minutes before the attack actually commenced, which left a large chunk of the Calamity free to cause havoc.

“And cause havoc, they did. Through Aeromancer-based message updates delivered here, we learned that the Apertures that were unopposed in the northeast sent out their monsters immediately upon the neighboring sections, who barely got the call in time to mobilize, but still weren’t as prepared as most other sections. As a result, while they were attempting to close down one Aperture, they were suddenly assaulted by an entire contingent of monsters from another, leading to significant casualties.

“For all that the northeast was on the verge of collapse, both Generals chose to push on, as the rest were on schedule and performing above expectations. Orders were sent out, designed to coordinate the teams in the Calamity, informing them of the challenges they would be facing, and everything we got back from them confirmed that they would be able to have things in hand going forward.”

Paluna paused as she closed her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. “That was two weeks ago. All communication abruptly stopped at that point, which didn’t worry us too much, as they were starting to really make some progress and were pushing toward the center. But after two days of not even a single message, General Auran and General Maxwell began setting up an investigative team that would search for information on what was happening.

“Then we finally received a communication from inside the Calamity. It was disjointed and somewhat unclear, but the gist of it was that they were in trouble and needed help; they were apparently very close to success, but needed reinforcements, or else their entire endeavor to close the Calamity could result in the complete annihilation of the SIC’s forces. This, obviously, spurred the Generals to provide those reinforcements, and they left within the hour, taking not only themselves along, but almost the entirety of the contingent here at headquarters.”

“I thought the plan was for them to stay here no matter what, which would allow them to coordinate a retreat if it was needed and to recover from the failure?” Bartholomew asked.

“It was, but when they got a message from a very trusted source within the forces sent into the Calamitym saying that they better help or nearly ten thousand SIC members would die, they didn’t have any other choice. If everyone died within the Calamity, it would not only leave the border nearly undefended, but it would cripple the SIC to the point where it might not even exist afterwards.”

“So, why are you here and not with them?”

“We,” Paluna answered, gesturing to herself and Mygor, “were instructed to stay here in case any other messages were received, and Mygor was to relay them to the Generals. I’m here as the Martial liaison, in case there is need of my expertise, but there hasn’t really been anything for me to do.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t get any messages after that final one?” Bartholomew queried.

Mygor shook his head. “Oh, no, I received at least a dozen of them.”

“What did they say?”

“That’s the thing,” the Mage responded, his eyes looking haunted as he stared at Bartholomew, “I don’t know. They were all jumbled up and a mess, like I was hearing a foreign language. Except that it wasn’t a foreign language, as some words were recognizable, but they were distorted to the point where I could only guess as to their meaning. The only thing that came through clearly was the word ‘help’, which was used multiple times in each message. But then the messages stopped, with the last one coming two days ago. It’s been completely silent ever since.”

That’s a bit ominous. I don’t really care about the Generals and the other leadership that they brought with them, but for over 10,000 SIC members to suddenly lose contact, with the potential of being dead, is a horrific thing to think about.

From what he could see and hear from these two Lieutenants, they had told them everything they knew about the whereabouts of the SIC and its leadership, but there was something else he needed to know. “Who was it that sent the Unspoken Response after me?”

Both of them looked confused at Larek’s question, as if they didn’t know what he was talking about. But then comprehension seemed to dawn on them. “The assassins? I thought they were a myth. Are you telling me they’re real?” Paluna asked.

Larek didn’t need to be able to tell if someone was lying or not to determine that neither of these Lieutenants knew anything about the Unspoken Response, let alone who had sicced them on him. He debated about trying to ask them if they had any idea where the mysterious organization might be located, but he didn’t bother; it was clear to him that they had absolutely no idea where they might be.

It looked like he was going to have to get his answers from the Generals and possibly their advisors, such as Dean Wilburt, who was currently at the top of his list of suspects. Of course, that would also mean venturing into the Calamity, which he hadn’t necessarily planned to do, but it appeared to be an inevitability at this point. As much as he hated the SIC for what they’d done lately, not only to him but to the Volunteers and Factions, he also didn’t want thousands of them to perish if he had the chance to do something about it. Granted, he would still kill the leadership once he rescued them all and discovered who sent assassins after him, but that was just the price they’d have to pay.

“Let them die; it’s what they deserve for what they’ve done,” Penelope stated, and while Vivienne appeared slightly uncomfortable next to her, she didn’t refute her lover’s statement.

The two Lieutenants gaped at the blue-haired woman, while everyone else displayed different stages of indifference, but Larek just shook his head.

“I wish that we could, but there’s no way this region will be able to recover with so many defenders being killed. We’d be dooming hundreds of thousands of people to their deaths, regardless of whether we close the Aperture or leave it open to expand. We don’t exactly have the personnel yet to take over this region; we’d need at least a few months to get everything in place, which isn’t time that these people would have if the majority of the SIC members suddenly died.”

It was the logical response, and it pained him to say it, as he wanted revenge just as much or more than Penelope and Vivienne after what had happened in Dreenwood. Unfortunately, he had to be responsible and think about the people in the region, who would suffer if they chose to let them die.

His old bodyguard didn’t look happy as she turned away with a swish of her blue hair, but he could see that she understood his reasoning when she didn’t try to argue. Vivienne put her hand on her shoulder in consolation, which seemed to help, so Larek turned back to everyone else.

As he started to give them his plan for going into the Calamity, which would include a brief planning session as he needed to know everything about it that he could, something caught at the edge of his Magical Detection Skill. It took him a few seconds with his mouth open, ready to speak, before he realized what it was, before he shut his jaw with an audible snap.

“What is it?” Nedira asked, obviously seeing something on his face as his vision was elsewhere.

Whether it was the talk about the Unspoken Response assassins earlier, the lack of magical signatures in and around the city, or simply because he had admonished himself, after the last attack, to do better about detecting another ambush, Larek had sensed a disturbance outside the building. What alerted him at first was the movement and disturbance of entirely too much Stama and Mana in the environment, especially for the amount of those with potential in the city.

It was subtle, but once he locked onto it, he noticed the same sort of absorption patterns he’d seen before in the Unspoken Response assassins, as energy was being absorbed from dozens of different places, though they didn’t coordinate with where people were. Instead, he had to look for the absence of any energy movement, which allowed him to spot what appeared to be 3… 4… no, 5 dozen sources of energy movement surrounding the building, waiting in ambush.

“We’ve got visitors outside. At least 60 of them. I still want to know how they’re doing this, but it looks like they’re ready to attack once we try to leave.”

The grim looks on his friends’ faces told him everything he needed to know. They weren’t afraid of these assassins, and it was about time to show them that they weren’t the only ones who could conduct a surprise ambush.

“If we can, I’d like to leave one alive long enough to get some information out of them. When we take care of the SIC, I think it’s about time to put a stop to all this nonsense. Permanently.”