[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 5]
The wizard blinked once and then nodded.
“We have the bridge.”
The room burst into cheers, many of which were quickly stifled or hushed as the Magician Guild’s master of ether-speech continued.
“Naga Scryers report two dead, one heavily wounded. They encountered aquatics.”
Eh? Waterborne demons? No, I suppose that figures. Oh, blazes! Where is Yelta with that Dark Bestiary?!
“Mm, right. Tell Headless Rabbit and Helm of Yore to go on and assault the port; bring up Armor Slaked from reserve and have them reinforce.”
“Should they wait for Armor Slaked to arrive?”
Renner shot a look to Helgrave - less out of necessity, more so to make him feel involved. As expected, he shook his head, Renner turning back to the guildmage.
“No, to lose initiative now would void what the Naga Scryers have given us. I’d prefer not to spend time so early this evening- er, morning, I suppose.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you.”
The mage resumed communication, opening the palm of his hand as a way to indicate his use of the message spell. Renner, Guild Mistress Gilre, Archbishop Yilnac, Raeven’s representative, the adventurer party Salted Ash, and the Palace defensive staff were all in Ro-Lante’s strategy room, one given over to civic defense. They, along with a number of aids, were clustered around a map of the royal capital, one that had been set with little metal figurines as a representation of their forces and the enemy’s in the city.
‘Aquatics.’ It’s concerning that they have such specialized forces for such a specific defense. For the river alone? Or has some new lake sprung up from the ground too? I don’t understand. The niches of adventurers are something inherent to the profession - all are skilled in different culling crafts - but for the fel, for them to have brought distinct specialists… It indicates, at the very least, planning: tactical understanding; strategic competence; a mustering of resources tooth-to-tail. In a word, command.
Renner was caught halfways between tumult and ecstasy, something she settled on calling madness. Whatever dispairs pressed in, there was a simple, base electricity to the moment. She was simply alone.
Helgrave has his competencies in traditional martial matters, but hasn’t the faintest idea when it comes to adventurers. Gilre, similarly, hasn’t the blood and hasn’t the cunning for politics. Zanac in a coordinating role sounds like the start of a bad joke, and Barbro the punchline; Zanac is an incompetent in matters of war, and Barbro similarly holds no share over adventurers or Raeven. Likewise, my dear Elias could never suborn the palace men.
“Contact. North Ro-Selethor. Axes of the Damned reports imps, gazers, and a great frog-like demon.”
A great shuffling occurred at the wizard’s words, more figurines being deposited on the battlemap and then shifted around. They were all much too ornate, cast from spelter and then gilt; worse, for the purposes of tonight, they were highly inaccurate: Baharuth force markers - stylized after those legionaries common a century ago - used in place of demons. With push sticks, those were set opposite Re-Estize’s knights, which stood for adventurers.
My father, being my father, would draw a line much too far back and hold it, losing the adventurers, who would then promptly kill themselves in their schemes. None of those listed have the ear of the commoner, the ear of the guardsman, and considering it is their duty to hold the line - rather, hold the attention of demons - it is better that they die with my name on their lips. So, duty falls to me. Only I may do this.
“Contact. South Utreno. Primary assault led by… by Lady Aindra of the Blue Roses report Hellhounds.”
Renner held in a grimace. It was a predictable move from Lakyus; though she was charged with commanding that assault, the wizard’s stumbling over and the wording of “led” made it clear enough that she was engaging in combat directly. Gilre picked up on the same, and the two women shared a tired look with one another.
This is why she is under additional guard. She is a hero. She is wont to heroics. Wont, yes, but wanton? No point in frustration. This was an inevitability.
“Contact. North Utreno. Avoidant Cause reports the presence of imps, quazits, gazers, and a tall demon of some strange variety.”
I cannot help but dwell on my dog. At the pace of advance, surely he’s encountered a fel thing already. Has he already been given over to a violent end? A body to find and mourn? It will be a difficult performance. I’ll struggle to make convincing words of self-loathing and apology, doubly so to cry. Nor will I have an easy go of it shedding said lamentations to deal with the aftermath of this night. How am I to handle Stronoff and Unglaus? Another difficulty. Perhaps I could make them believe-
“Contact- Two Contacts. South Ro-Selethor and Central Windlen. Imps, quazits, gazers, hellhounds at- demons of the common and greater clades, in both- Contact. Getha. Demons of all varieties in all three locations.”
The shuffling of the table turned into an outright scramble, dozens of figurines being placed all at once.
It seems like the enemy has seen fit to reveal themselves. Somewhere, out beyond these walls, there is a great deal of death to be done; death which is to be done on my accord, and that of my enemy. Pray tell, Chardelon, what else lurks within?
—
“Contact. Bane of Worm reports assault from- right flank.”
A little of the moment’s tension bled off, Renner letting out a breath she hadn’t recognized she was holding in.
They’re engaging.
The initial assault was a positional gambit. While the roads could be reliably marked as infested or clear, the enemy was lodged deep within the crowded narrows between buildings. With most of lesser stature than men and accustomed to vertical movement, such impediments could be freely navigated by the enemy. With terrain of that type making over two-thirds the area within the circle, the enemy possessed an overwhelming advantage in the sorts of tactics they could employ in an urban environment.
“Encounter? Or-”
“No, enemy breakout.”
A traditional dislodgement would have meant the forces of man entered on a unified spearpoint, thus providing the enemy the unrestricted ability to reposition its forces. The brutish demons could be concentrated to blunt the head of the assault, and sleuthy kinds would have unimpaired access to flanks throughout the entire assault. Any attempt to destroy the flanking elements would be met with simple retreat, creatures simply hopping out of windows into adjacent structures. It would be a slow, drawn-out fight that could stretch for days, and while a mortal foe would eventually tire, exhausting themselves of food, drink, and supply, the same could not be said for the fel. Thus, Renner had taken it upon herself to counter this.
They've blinked. They care more about the preservation of their forces than giving us additional targets. My earlier suppositions were correct.
No tactic sans razing the terrain could void the enemy’s affinity for it, however, what advantages the cityscape provided could be nullified. Assaulting many places at once did not change the basic pace of battle - blunted ends were still blunted ends and flanking assaults were still flanking assaults - however, these individual penetrations could be linked, with parties getting perhaps twenty paces in and then turning left or right down tangential paths to meet with other parties ere their advance inward. In this way, Renner guaranteed a dozen encirclements, fracturing the landscape with a ring of adventurers and solid columns of city guard. These fractures could then be cleared at leisure by reserve forces sent door-to-door.
“Tell them to hold fast; prevent any flight from that cluster. Have Crimson Circle brought up and prepare them for door-knocking.”
“Understood.”
Now, Chardelon, how could what I have said be incorrect?
Renner gave a sidelong look to the battlemap, watching yet more figures be placed down. The revelation that the night likely had something to do with her - no matter how delusional such a revelation was - had yet to show itself untrue. She had somehow missed all signs of an imminent demonic invasion; worse, she had been the most likely to predict it. Thus, Renner held out her thoughts and turned them over.
Were I given the option, against a thorough opponent, I would do exactly this, yet leave some forces to spring at the moment of maximum chaos; I would do so at the place of maximum value to me, at the time of maximum value. The question then becomes: will they use this to harry us or to route us? It hinges upon how valuable Jaldabaoth finds his forces. If he can spend them to destroy us, would he do so?
Renner cocked her head a little further, giving an inner shrug.
Well, I would.
Gilre cast a level gaze at Renner, speaking up a moment later.
“They’re choosing to flee.”
“Indeed.”
“Did we outmaneuver them?”
Helgrave’s question was typical of a military man still lost in the framework of field battles, Renner clicking her tongue as she searched for a response.
“This may be their foreknowledge or not; while of concern, there are more pressing points here. They have a habit of slaking themselves whenever possible- or perhaps sating. Ah, forgive me for speaking of brutal things so easily. It’s unbecoming of a princess.”
Gilre raised an eyebrow in exasperation.
“Tonight is unbecoming in general, Your Highness.”
“Mm, maybe so. Either way, that they are attempting a breakout rather than something more cunning is, in a way, concerning.”
“Why?”
“What could be worth giving up a slaughter?”
—
“Report. Windlen and Getha have met.”
The enemy should be striking now. The alert will reach us in about a half a minute’s time.
Time would only move exactly as fast as it was wont to: seconds would take seconds, minutes would take minutes, hours would take hours. This was doubly inconvenient tonight, leading to much too long draws between much too short moments of action.
“Only have one linkup left.”
“Mm.”
Helgrave’s comment was pointless, merely filler words intended to relieve tension. The room was near silent, everyone breathlessly anticipating the mage’s next words.
“Contact. Enemy assaulting the linkup point between Windlen and Getha.”
Since the first encounter, each meeting of the fronts was met with regular, fierce resistance by the encircled demons, strikes which came with fantastic precision and regularity. Most came not more than thirty seconds later, and struck at exactly the point of meeting, fiends crawling out of whatever narrows necessary to hit just that point.
“Disquieting.”
“Aye, Sir Helgrave. Tell me. How are they consistently arriving at the linkup points so soon after we are? Freedom of movement?”
“You’re the adventurer. Haven’t you dealt with such things before?”
“My career never set me against demons. Still, I suppose it makes the most sense.”
“That, or they’ve already scryed the path of our advance.”
Renner’s interjection snapped both to her, neither seeming to find words in response. That the enemy would have predicted the course of battle so far seemed, to her, the simplest explanation. Parties of adventurers could only move so fast, and the way obstacles would slow them also seemed predictable. The enemy’s early break for the first encounter was simply a fluke; now, their retreats were rigid and organized. That they were striking at the hardest point - those spots where two parties were standing simultaneously - confirmed to Renner that their objective was to not simply to delay the dislodgement, but to slay all those who threatened it; an admission from the enemy that it’s forces were as disposable to it as hers were to her.
Their tactic- ah, ‘their’ is a misnomer, his tactic is designed to kill, but why? For me, the permanent allay of the demon threat is desirable, and thus the unrecoverable expenditure of men is correct, but for him? Why bear the extra cost for complete destruction? Shouldn’t the taking of an object of power be just that, a taking? I haven’t an idea for why he’s doing this. Not to mention the matter of the circle itself.
Gilre suddenly spoke up, snapping Renner from her brooding.
“We should switch routes.”
Why?
“Eh? What would that do?”
“We would avoid-”
“Not- not that, Guild Mistress. Her Highness is running ahead of us.”
Ah, we’re building a rapport. How wonderful. Helgrave seems to have some understanding. Probe him.
“Mm. Apologies, I was vague. If I could trouble you to explain, Sir Helgrave.”
He gave a slight nod, before launching into an explanation.
“If they can predict our path of advance, abandoning it would be predicted, and they would likely have a counter assault in place. Correct, Your Highness?”
“Not quite my thoughts, but yes. Not to say the enemy predicted this, mind you, that was merely a suggestion. Rather, any such future-sight on their part would be indistinguishable from actual dynamism, in which case-”
“Abandoning our plans would only put us at more risk.”
Renner stifled a laugh at Gilre’s interruption, this mostly for the way Helgrave jerked.
“Exactly. We would toss out an advantage of ours for no gain. They would be acting just as they had before, but we would be without framework.”
“I guess… er, I suppose that’s correct, Your Highness, I just don’t like the enemy knowing what we’re doing.”
I’d much rather they know than we don’t.
“Report. Ro-Selethor and Utreno linked.”
Ah, so comes phase three.
—
Thunder shattered the night, the noise slipping in through the walls and startling Renner.
Mm, this will jump me all evening, won’t it?
“Readjust north-northeast twelve paces. Strike.”
The words came from an older woman off to the side, donned in heavy robes and a blindfold. She zealously kept a staff in her dexter hand, while her off was placed on the shoulder of another elder, one of three who had locked hands around a glass orb at the center of a small table. A flat disc of radiant light apparated; it was centered on and perfectly bisecting the glass ball. Auxiliary rings appeared above, spaced at inconsistent yet magically significant intervals. Motes of arcane light spilled into the air, words forming then collapsing, the visible expression of the spell all at once vanishing with nothing but a hum. The response from the blind woman was immediate.
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“Overshot. Readjust dead south two paces. Strike.”
Another hum; another few seconds of silence; another crack of thunder.
“Hit. Perform battery.”
Another ring unfurled, this one much more intricate than the previous, its layers stacked thrice as high. It shifted, shedding words yet not collapsing, and instead moving to shift again. Another boom rang through the night; then, with a few seconds lag, came a rolling crash, each burst from the night happening half a second after the other. By the eleventh boom, the woman again spoke.
“Destroyed.”
The woman - the team's diviner - spoke coolly, though with a sly smile, doubling over the instant after and emptying her stomach bile into a pre-positioned bucket. The ring shattered, falling apart into a shower of light onto the wizards at the table, though the booms continued for another three seconds to eventually total seventeen. Their target had been a demonic goliath identified by the Seekers of Sfeiz, one they had managed to pin through a masterful example of adventurecraft. Renner gave a warm smile, speaking to the party’s leader.
“Excellent work, Thaumaturge Agnamen.”
Though registered as adventurers, wizard circle Salted Ash specialized in this sort of work alone, remote spellfire a rare discipline exclusively in their domain.
“We can perhaps manage eighty bolts more, and I another ten.”
“Mm, whatever you think you’re capable of, though this night may drag on longer than another ninety bolts.”
“Hopefully not.”
Renner had no desire to engage such a tepid response, instead turning back to the map to catch the giant’s figure being removed and the northern front move inward.
“Report. Probing attack by demons of common varieties along the west front. Copper Washout engaging.”
Growing resistance, but that’s to be expected. These probing attacks, prodding us until we let slip a fold in our lines. How many of these ‘heavy’ demons have we slain now? Five? Is that even a meaningful figure? Likely not.
Renner’s thoughts trailed off into her unshakable unease, a general sense that she was missing the point. Jaldabaoth’s plot had become no less indecipherable, and the enemy’s behavior remained frustratingly impossible to judge.
I can’t understand why they drew a circle and stuck to it. Some limitation of their interlope from the netherworld? Then how were they able to move against the Eight Fingers sites? No, that can’t be the case; if it was, why would they not move against these other places in silence? We were surely beaten to every place we attempted to raid, why not go on in silence and strike the rest? Why a protracted countersiege? Why the turmoil? Why the chaos? Why am I asking questions to a fiend as if he’ll step out of the black and answer me? Who knows, he might.
After another moment of lag, Renner’s mood snapped.
I dislike this.
“I dislike this.”
I’m taking the initiative.
“I wish to take the initiative.”
If his lines won’t buckle, mine will. I’m forcing an overextension.
“I want to buckle his lines. Force our way through.”
Her sudden pronouncement caught the chamber’s attention; almost everyone present snapped to her. Helgrave rapped his fingers against the tabletop, before lifting them off, crossing his arms, and raising an eyebrow.
"How so, Your Highness?"
Distract us, give them opportunity for an ambush, a sudden push from both directions. The sides of the northern advance have yet to be cleared. Oh, my dearest Jaldabaoth, Chardelon beseeches you: please have left ambushers in the Windlen warrens. Surely you were wise enough to do that? I’ll even go out of my way to throw away my responses. I’ll make it clear I have no reserves, nor supporting elements. Then, when you break on through, I’ll send Darkness in exactly the way I oughtn’t to.
"Where are our flying units?”
“Nine-Thousand and One is returning from a sortie, Sandshrike’s Company and Sisters of Fury are currently alight.”
“Bring to bear the latter two and send them along the path of Lakyus’s advance in sequence. Free reign to select targets. When Nine-Thousand and One restore themselves, send them after to handle the rooftop combat. We’ll give that advance priority. Dread enemies get rent by spell battery. Further, we call up our reserves to cover the flanks we create; send up Forward Spear and Slow Heat. I want to slash their lines and send Master Momon barreling through.”
“Why the urgency? Wasn’t the point of this advance to be as conservative as possible?”
Something initially synonymous with caution. But that is no longer the case. We have had our taste of fel flesh, and I am hungry for it. Ah, a key point. When Lakyus strikes, the odds of the enemy absorbing that too is high. He will have planned for a less clever panic, some conniving trap for a wild strike forward, rather than just a counterattack. There’s one solution for that, something I ought to do now.
“Giving the enemy slack without cause is not ‘conservation’, it’s sloth. There are thousands within those flames, and every minute we let pass the lesser the likelihood is of… of them… returning to us. I have no desire to do-good the dead.”
—
Renner rushed a little faster than she ought to, stepping into the throne room a bit too hastily for a princess. She regimented her step a second later, quickly replacing what hair had fallen out of place as she strode in. An uncomfortable quiet reigned, her father’s very presence here seeming at the least misguided.
What does it say about our kingdom, our house, that he would do this? This court is a bad joke. Gods above, it’s so- so frightfully boyish! My father, such a pathetic little thing, knows a crisis is afoot, a travesty abounding the take of our forefathers of the same nature that they felt; and yet, bound by all the bladed minutia of the day, he is so tangled as to do nothing. But it is unbecoming for a king to hide in his quarters while his people are being slaughtered, led onto the stake or the pit or the letting-pools or whatever other fiendish contrivances our enemies have wrought. So what does my father, king of a land greater than all those near, presider over a grander people and polity than any other in the realms of men do? Why, he creeps out of his drawing room and finds his way to the throne, and it is on that spot that he sits and fears for his country. Pathetic.
“Father, I wish a word in private. Captain Stronoff, you may stay.”
He silently acceded, nodding and waving his hand in a meandering way without comment. The rest of the room, representatives from the Royal faction and a few others, made to move. The only two exceptions were the Warrior-Captain and her brother, who had enthroned himself besides her father. He sat tacitly, head resting on his elbow in a way that made him look more childish than brooding. Ramposa turned to him, a look of agitation in his eyes. Barbro jerked a little in his chair, raising upward to give his father a sidelong look.
“You can’t ask that I go.”
“Brother…”
If my father is a boy, then what is he? Ah, the metaphor falls apart. I’m a failure of a tragedian.
Renner let her response tail off, waiting for the rest of the servants to exit the room as she crossed the floor to arrive at the dais. She ascended it swiftly, timing her arrival at the top with the door to the side room latching shut. Barbro snapped first.
"You can't ask that I go!"
Perhaps… it would be prudent to show a little of my rage. A little anger, though a little off-target.
“Ield, I have no time for your perfidious offense.”
“Perfidious?”
“Yes!”
Ramposa stayed silent, avoiding the gaze of both to bear his eyes into the distance. Barbro looked to his father in need, but summoned no reaction, turning back to Renner completely unsupported.
“You dare-”
“I do dare! Now spare us your impropriety and speak no more!”
If I could, I would take up the craft of sewing and run needles through your lips like a village craftswoman, stitching them shut with iron fiber.
“You need to learn your place-”
“So teach it! Strike me again, like you did that night, and then do so again, and again! Maybe then I’ll have a clearer picture of my place as a sister! I promise you, brother-’dearest’, that I will not degenerate into the simpering mess you saw then. That I learned more that night about the nature of death, the nature of the beyond, and about your ‘nature’ than I have ever before. I am twice the woman I was then! Now, out with you!”
Barbro’s face twitched, snapping back between her and her father twice, before settling on him. Ramposa gave a heavy sigh, responding without bothering to look at his son.
“You would not force an old man from his chair, would you?”
Barbro quivered a little further, before stamping up and marching out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. Heavy looks found their ways onto the faces of both men, but Renner simply ignored them.
“Father. I need to ask something of you.”
“I would make you queen were I given the chance.”
Drive not the knife home, would you?
“You did not speak that, and neither I nor Captain Stronoff did hear it, correct?”
Gazef lagged for a moment, before shaking his head. Ramposa sighed again.
“So it is… What is your question, my daughter?”
“I… understand the tenor of our politics prevents you from sending your forces away from the palace. Those lords aligned with House Vaiself fearful of a second Black Night.”
“Mm, yes.”
“But I fear this battle will heat in such a way that the forces which I have rallied will not… no, cannot win it.”
“How so?”
“The enemy lays ready to spring. I fear whomever they choose to do so upon will be caught wholly by them and dragged back down into the ground. Father, I…”
Ah, this is difficult to say.
“You did not make such a commotion only to hesitate speaking something improper, did you?”
“Quite… Oh Gods, forgive me for this.”
“Chardelon, I fear you are about to say something rash.”
“Take to the streets! If you do, you could have the whole of the palace’s men by your side.”
Gazef’s eyes went wide, along with a half hewn chuckle from Ramposa.
“Myself?”
“In house armor; nay, even the treasures!”
“With Gazef by my side?”
“Aye! The whole of the warrior band, and all those forces not currently under the brother.”
“And Ro-Lante?”
“The fortress tends to itself! Were any black power to come out of the night to snatch me, my brother-”
“Speak no more.”
Ramposa held up a staying hand, Renner letting her voice die. He sat silently on the throne for a time, making little motion, with only the sound of measured breathing to mark the passage of time.
“You really have spent too much time around adventurers, haven’t you?”
“An accusation I cannot deny.”
“Gazef.”
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“Are you to protect this lifeless city, or me?”
“You, your Majesty.”
“Muster.”
“Sire.”
Gazef snapped his heels, bowed, and rushed off to exit the room. Renner followed after, but found herself caught in Ramposa’s grasp.
“Come a dawn without me, know that I meant my words.”
“Oughtn’t it be the daughter indulging herself?”
—
A hard look came over the eyes of the wizard as he was downing a vial of tonic, his exhaustion having dragged him down into his chair. Emptying the bottle with a thorough lick of its neck, he wiped his puckered lips with the back of his hand before handing it off to Pharmaturge Jund and speaking.
“Report. Tallow and Vellum destroyed. Seekers of Sfeiz, Crimson Scorpion, Obsidian Rose retreating.”
Turbid silence, no one quite clear on what to say. Renner slowly exhaled, then folded forward onto the table, buttressing herself with her elbows.
“Blazes.”
It was a whisper, a low, steady admission that she had failed. It was - as was her wont - completely false. Renner was elated, her scheme having worked exactly as she desired.
I did it. I compelled a demon to reveal its secrets. How many can say that they’ve done such a thing?
After a few more seconds of lag, Renner steadily drew herself up, admiring the shape of the map, and how she had forcibly recast it. The assault in Windlen had come from all directions: a dozen of the heavy clade having trundled on in the front; a surprise attack from behind of men-like-things with writhing vitality rather than heads; an air assault that included many gazers as well as a drake whose body had been rendered from rusted iron plates. That had been destroyed with the timely use of lightning, but the rest had fought on, and now had apparently forced a retreat. Then, as she had predicted, a grand counterattack had come against Lakyus, something soon to be countered by her father’s force. She felt little else than amazement, having been able to manipulate the enemy into striking exactly where she desired.
Jaldabaoth has spent himself there. Ah, this moment is pregnant. Fake a little more regret, then seal this.
“I didn’t think it would come so quick. And these ambushers of theirs! I had figured their retreat was legitimate. How could I be so daft? Helgrave, do you have any wisdom to proffer?”
“If both sides attack, one is wrong.”
“Mm… Then we just need to ensure that we’re not.”
Renner raised her voice, letting it echo throughout the chamber.
“Bring up Darkness, we’re sending them in from the north.”
“The north?”
“They’ve routed us, yes, but fulfilled a condition of our objective: stretch their lines. They can’t merely ignore Rockpox and the Unlovables. They will shed to either side, and even if they bring to bear their reserves, we have a precious twip. We send him in that way, and we do so now!”
Renner shot her gaze to the wizard.
“Inform them-”
“Done, confirm receipt.”
“Thank you.”
“They’re moving now. Evileye estimates two minutes.”
Say what you will about her. At least she can use her magics to that end. How long until my father arrives? Perhaps ten? Aye. Something to that effect. Momon will slip on through, and the enemy will be met with a renewed assault; their encirclement will itself be bitten in two. Have I adequately feigned weakness? Let me hope so.
“The guards are fighting, aren’t they?”
Renner let her eyes drift off to the right, setting on Gilre. The Guild Mistress had a hard look on her face, her low, quiet words not observational, but accusatory. She stared unblinkingly at the map, Renner catching the slight movements of her lips as she counted some figure.
The number engaged. The tactful thing would be to take blame. Yes… yes, I’ll do that.
“A decision that lies with me. All things well to be.”
“What? Left alone? Isn’t that a little callous?”
This is what I don’t understand. Would she rather lose more valuable elements, lock up more of the other forces? It’s not even heroism, it’s just idiocy. The lives of the cityguard matter less than adventurers. The loss of one means the destruction of city seniority, yes, and perhaps long term issues with the efficacy of the organization, but that is not why she is concerned. She is simply whining for no cause at all. It’s almost funny.
“Watch your tone, and remember whom you’re speaking to.”
“It’s alright, Helgrave. My decision, Gilre. Think no more of it.”
“Why?”
I have no desire to continue this much longer. Just daze her, then guilt her.
“Eight hundred.”
“What?”
“Eight hundred. For every adventurer out there tonight, there are little more than five guardsmen - eight hundred or thereabouts in total. That’s what you were tallying, right?”
“Y-yes.”
“While adventurers divest themselves of home and so forth, the same cannot be said for the City Guard. Of those, there are thousands more who know them, and tens of thousands acquainted. If you think I am not uniquely aware of that fact, then I fear you misunderstand me. Need I say more?”
“No.”
“Then, as I asked, think no more-”
“Contact. Heavy demons. Lakyus’s assault. Several of the frog kin, and the four armed brutes. Direction… south southeast!”
The encirclement is nearly complete then. The critical moment comes.
“How soon until my father arrives?”
“No more than five minutes. He should- Report! From the north front, Darkness is away!”
More cheers came, Renner letting a little of herself slip in joining them.
—
“Report- many reports! Earthquake! Number of structures toppled, casualties in a number of locations.”
Renner lurched in place, reflexively looking around, and then above and below. Leveling her gaze, she saw many doing the same, tracking the positions of objects or the levelness of water in glasses. Miffed, Raeven’s adjutant gave an exasperated wave of the hand.
“I didn’t feel a thing.”
Nor did I. What- what was this? Magic, maybe?
“Gilre, what could this be?”
“I- I have no idea.”
She hasn’t encountered this before, how queer. What now?
Renner looked to Salted Ash. The four wizards were much worse for wear, the scryer’s blindfold having been soaked with so much blood that her face was smeared with the stuff, the rest having lost the same from their mouths and hands.
“Agnamen! Could such a thing be the work of magic!”
He broke into a coughing fit, spewing bloody phlegm into a handkerchief before speaking.
“Not by any means I know. But surely if it was a natural thing, we’d have felt it here.”
Something underground, maybe? Or some terrifying magic that could replicate such destruction over a wide area? Either way, this bodes ill. Probe these two.
“Is something moving in the earth?”
“Mayhaps, Your Highness.”
“What- what if this is what Terminal End encountered earlier. They reported a shaking of the earth when they ran ahead. I believe we dismissed it as the enemy moving near, but this…”
Renner’s voice died, mentally tabulating radii of effect in her mind. This was to little end, she silently chiding herself as she realized she had not bothered to remember the specific positions of adventurer parties when the original event occurred. Combat had doubled its ferocity, almost every party on the frontline directly involved in the melee. Her father’s arrival - though it had saved Lakyus’s advance - seemed to have spurred this, an unending swarm of lesser demons slipping out every which way, followed soon after by gazers and beetles whenever a gap was discovered. In that chaos, she had simply failed to give it the thought.
I thought it meant nothing at the time. Well, not nothing, rather that it was another queerness in a night of queernesses. How could I have thought to track that? Agh, a matter, but one we can’t resolve. We are so close to the breaking point.
“Do we have any reports of casualties?”
“Y-yes, among Hither Wither and Spear Forward.”
They were clearing structures, to wit, they were inside. Likely pinned. Good that they were the only ones endangered.
“Then issue the order to continue our advance!”
“Understood! Copper Washout requests support, at the junction a block south from Gedya, they say they identified and pinned a- a multi-limbed brute to the east.”
The wizards silently nodded, the scryer righting herself and issuing another cast; a spurt of spittle leaked from her mouth.
“Strike.”
The circle again returned, and another bout of thunder rocked the space, the sky stammering another twelve times before the scryer simply collapsed onto the floor; the aged wizards at the table in various states of distress. Agnamen lost a little more vitality from his mouth, speaking in a hoarse tone.
“One-hundred fifty in a day. I never knew myself capable.”
“Report! Enemy destroyed. Blue Roses advancing! Palace forces advancing!”
“Yes-”
“Yes-”
“Alright-”
“Wonderful!”
The chamber’s jubilation was instinctual, sharp cries going up from all. Renner excitedly threw her first in the air; Gilre and Helgrave made similar pumps. She felt charged, the stress of the night having seemed so near to release as to drive her to agony. She danced on her feet, pulling one heel up from the ground and then the other, in uncertain sways back and forth as she braced herself against the battlemap. Helgrave snatched the push stick from his adjutant’s hands, instead making to rearranging the figures himself. The Guild Mistress excitedly whispered under her breath.
“We almost have them!”
Indeed we do. How close we are now. We’ve broken through. We’ve broken through! Almost to the square! Even if Jaldabaoth has yet to be vanquished, with us would so tightly around his forces, it prevents any attempt to fulfill his objective. Why, they must be packed wall to wall in there, backed against their take and- pray tell, where are the people?
It was a dread question, one that had been easy to delay considering until now. When the warehouses near the port had been found empty, the held assumption was that many of those kept were deep behind the enemy front. As the city was taken back bite by bite, only signs of conflict had revealed themselves, not legions of the imprisoned.
Before the blaze went up, there were thousands inside its dimensions, perhaps scraping ten thousand. Where are they? They were not bloodlet, were they? There were no reports of such. Are we to turn the corner into a grand horror? Perhaps, and perhaps then our morale will break, as will our forces under there, and all the city will be awash in demons and the spillings of those which they have gored. His stated objective, then, a lie.
Query. Why a lodgement? To search an area in depth without disturbance; or in the negative, to do better than would a secret search with more stealthy elements. Query? Under what circumstances, what… continual condition would a lodgement be kept? That the item had not been found. Why hasn’t he fled yet? If his forces ripped through every home, and took out every man, woman, and child so completely, then how have they not found an object of power? Surely such a thing can’t be topped.
This doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t make any sense at all. Any prudent strategist would have retreated by now. He can’t possibly still expect to find what he has spent the last five hours not finding. The item is a lie, but an obvious one, and in that way it seems truth lies within. What is the purpose of this, then? This makes no sense! His strategy seems completely divorced from it! I feel baffled, so utterly baffled. Was it the stealing of the people? In that case, hasn't that already been done? The taking of wealth? Of treasure? I must ask the same question again and again. They had perhaps a full three free hours of ransacking, maybe more. The dedicated destruction of adventurers makes no sense in such a framework, however. Any limited objective - retrieval, acquisition, mayhem - need not require that.
Renner cocked her head.
Unless the objective is not limited.
She stilled herself, then, unconsciously, began to round the table, slowly sidestepping and watching the figures upon it parallax.
Some larger scheme. Something worse. A conspiracy, or a grand plot. I suppose, then, a lodgement would make sense. A followup siege? Invasion, not simply a front in a city but full and proper? All this to take the spear of the kingdom, blunt it, and then thrash its wielder? Had he such ability, then surely such an effort would not be necessary at all. No. No, this is something greater.
Renner finally stopped, catching the map at the angle directly in line with Lakyus’s advance. She traced it up with her eyes, looking at all the little marks that had been made thus far to the culminating position, the penultimate juncture before Geyda square. Shifting her eyes to the left, she caught Copper Washout’s reposition to the east, and then, a little further behind, saw Hither Wither embedded deep within a warren that, because of the earthquake, no longer existed. A sudden terror washed over her as she realized there was a gap in the line.
“Report! We have eyes on the square!”