All voices made echoes in the now-deserted Tower of Rebirth, and the faintest whisper seemed rudely stringent, so Cecilia decided to keep her words to herself, even while her fellow Blossoms debated on the next course of action. It is not for us to decide, she told herself, maintaining her calm and refraining from rashness. Times of tragedy demanded urgent action, yes, but the most terrible of paths were taken in haste. Then again, it was unlikely that the Red Rose’s current options amounted to much better than awful.

Cecilia dare not look up to the statues of the Founders in all their immensity. Each of the three had her hand raised as if to hold the very top of the Tower, though in truth the Tower far exceeded the scope of the Hall of Founders, even if it was the most emblematic part of this center of Blossom power, the only one outsiders were allowed access to, to be awed and humbled by the ancient grandeur of the Red Rose.

Now it appeared haunted. Cecilia wondered how many Blossoms had died here, their souls ripped from their bodies without warning. There were no remains of what they once had been, no trace that they’d existed at all save for whatever they were carrying when their bodies ceased to be. Broken glass and dropped books, blank scrolls and shattered orbs, quills and briefcases. Not all of it had been collected and organized, leaving Cecilia to the morbid thought of imagining who the owner of each object might have been. Her companions fell into a grim silence, no doubt pondering the same matters. They had not seen it with their own eyes, the fate of these women. Faustyna and Sieglinde had shared few details beyond the fact that all those Blossoms simply withered and faded. Cecilia knew better than to ask just yet.

Past the statue of Syleria, Font of Fates, wide stairs led to the northern wing of the Tower, reserved for matters of administration. Such few magical girls remained that Sieglinde implied that for now they would all transfer their offices and residences to this wing, for convenience. They had not even managed to finish an accounting of the living Blossoms, but it was clear they were not even remotely close to the amount needed to keep the Red Rose functional.

They did not need to walk much longer, fortunately. There was no point in maintaining offices past the first floor of the administrative wing, although actually moving through the corridors demanded some patience, as a multitude of crates and stacks of books and documents crowded most of the space available. Hints of marble peered from between the clutter, but all statuary and paintings had been removed, giving the Tower an uncanny and barren appearance. The corridors and hallways seemed to go on for great inexpedient lengths, and Cecilia struggled to picture it full of life and beauty. The Tower of Rebirth, all of it, is a work of art, she had heard from Sieglinde. Now it was like a long-abandoned home, where every trace of its former purpose only made the emptiness more bitter.

Voices guided them to where they were needed, to the office claimed by Sieglinde. On the door, a different name entirely. Cecilia made it a point not to commit it to memory. That sort of sadness would do her little good now, the sadness of pitying the unknown dead. To feel every emotion that screamed in the midst of tragedy was to be overwhelmed, paralyzed with that pain and cacophony of thoughts. This she had learned from childhood, a lesson well-honed through practice; calm in the midst of chaos, a skill much needed in Eschenstadt and its harsh, unpredictable weather. A hard land that breeds a hard people, was the saying in her homeland, which some saw as a boast but which Cecilia had been taught by her parents was, instead, a lament. This land culls the weak, she heard when she was old enough to understand it. Nature is pitiless and only a clear mind will keep you safe when a storm descends, or the biting winds of winter try to devour you.

And so she did not react to the sight of Sieglinde still weeping, barely able to compose herself as the newly-made Blossoms walked into her office. She was not alone, joined by two fellow magical girls Cecilia did not recognize. Briefly they introduced themselves; Henriette Valchenza, last remaining member of the Rose Council, a name Cecilia had occasionally heard but never seen in person - clearly this woman was a true believer, for not only were her earrings a pair of ruby roses, her headband adorned with crimson petals, the eyepatch she wore bore the mark of the Red Rose as well. She had a regal air about her, but Valchenza was a distinctly Crecenzan surname, and not one Cecilia recognized as high and noble.

The other, a dark-skinned girl named Aissa Haidar, seemed to be not much older than the new inductees. Her eyes shied away from the girls who’d just arrived, and she put herself behind Sieglinde, choosing to awkwardly inspect a book she carried rather than acknowledge the new Blossoms more than was strictly necessary.

“These are the girls you instructed?” Lady Valchenza asked, looking towards Sieglinde.

“I was a coordinator for their year’s crop,” Sieglinde corrected, trying to discreetly wipe her tears. “My part in their training was not so direct. I know them all, though. Well enough that you were the first inductees I wanted to meet.”

“What is it that you need us for?” Asked Erika Chantesse, whom Cecilia had always found somewhat arrogant, always attempting to take charge during combat drills, and now so eager to be privy to the Red Rose’s plans.

“There is simply no easy way to put this,” Sieglinde began, “but the Red Rose may not survive this. No one is ever prepared for the immediate eradication of almost all of the myriad parts of an organization that has grown throughout millennia, spreading roots all across the world.”

“Are… Are you certain you should be sharing this with us?” Cecilia asked. “We are no more than novices.”

“You are our future,” Henriette Valchenza said. “We have no use for modesty and meekness currently. We cannot afford to create any distinction between us and you newly-Blossomed ladies. There simply are not enough survivors left to fill each and every position of authority in our Rose. It is true that in ordinary circumstances you would initially be assigned simpler duties before being granted greater responsibilities, and, with time, prestige. That is the natural course of events. Alas, everyone we knew is dead. Aissa, if you’d be so kind.”

“O-Of course,” the girl spoke louder and more clearly than Cecilia had expected of someone so demure. “We’ve attempted to organize an accounting of the survivors. No point in tracking the dead when they so ruinously abound. We have companions investigating archives of our Tower and now-deserted offices, to find any important documents so that we can have a clear understanding of all positions that will require replacements.”

“We had a shadow council, wouldn’t you believe it?” Henriette remarked casually. “And the shadow council had a shadow council of its own. It seems many of our comrades busied themselves with conspiracies. As though we lacked for work to perform! Well, they are all dead now, and I’ll do what I can to clean up the messes they left for us. Assassinations and coups and plots and secret projects… What a headache. Still, some of our peers deserved to die, if that’s any comfort.”

“Henriette,” Sieglinde reprimanded her. “Don’t say these things. Let us focus on what’s of importance.”

Cecilia nodded, just as her companions. She wondered if she was expected to comment on these matters. Despite Henriette’s insistence, it was impossible for her to see herself as an equal. Chains of command existed for a reason, and entrusting the fate of the Rose to girls who up until one day ago still thought they had years to wait before being tasked with the simplest of official duties seemed like a dubious proposal.

“Is anyone here good with numbers?” Aissa asked. “Any experience with accounting, such as a family business? Any valuable contacts, perhaps?”

Some hands were raised. Cecilia recognized Ebriss Sanila and Loreana Neuscius, though she wouldn’t have described them as business savvy so much as scions of fabulously wealthy families.

“Report to Marinor Mycroft,” said Henriette. “She’s the new head of the Office of the Treasury. Our operational costs have suddenly been… Diminished, let us say, and our Rose had many thousands of years to accumulate wealth. Our coffers here are full, and we have some two hundred billion ryals stored in the headquarters of the Scarlet Erarium, and more throughout the world.”

“W-what exactly are to be our duties?” Loreana asked. Perhaps she should have thought of this question before raising her hand.

“Whatever Marinor asks of you,” Henriette shrugged. “Sieglinde and I have agreed that all our Blossoms should return to the Tower of Rebirth, at least for the time being, and that entails bringing back all our treasures stored in our safehouses around the world.”

“Won’t we be leaving the nations undefended?” Triella asked.

“They already are,” said Sieglinde. “No one remains in all of Kesver, we’ll probably have to abandon Tel Ubaitha, and half of Eslania simply is no longer under our wardenship. It’s been a day, and already word is spreading regarding the scale of our loss. Most likely, we’ll have to restrict our operations to some core territories as we rebuild.”

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“I believe that’s a mistake,” said Erika, to Triella’s agreement. “We have forged bonds of fellowship with most of the world’s nations, cultivated over centuries, or even longer. We should not abandon them. Even if it’s just to show our presence, I don’t think we should desert all of our branches.”

“Very well,” Henriette seemed to actually take the opinions of these novices into account. “I have considered your point, but when I weigh the possibilities, it seems wiser to strengthen our position here.”

“Excuse me,” Stelmaria Cleirn raised her voice, emboldened by Erika’s frankness. “I hail from Loclain. It is only the Red Rose standing between my homeland and ruin. It was always my intention, after Efflorescence, to return to Loclain and fight off the daemon cultists there.”

“Loclain is close enough that we would maintain some activities there,” said Sieglinde. “But as for the lands which are most remote-”

“They are not remote to us,” Prishia Haresi protested. “Please reconsider. Biratgar, for instance, has managed to peacefully unify its rival kingdoms with the aid of the Red Rose. Without the Rose’s authority, who knows what will happen?”

“I have to agree with her,” said Aissa. “We all know that if we pull back our presence, it won’t be Siodrune that will be left to fend for itself, but the other continents. There are Blossoms spread throughout the world, hailing from all nations. Please don’t forget that. You would be tearing the Rose apart, and that would truly be our ruin.”

Cecilia considered replying, saying that it had always been the nations of Siodrune that had given the Red Rose the most aid, but that would be an unfair assessment. Eschenstadt was but a month’s journey by land from the neutral lands governed by the Rose, granted to the Blossoms long ago in gratitude for their protection of the world. The Rose meant to unite the world, and should not relinquish this promise.

“We have enemies, right?” Cecilia asked Henriette. “More than we might even know. This is why you reached the conclusion that it’d be best to abandon the lands we can’t defend with our own diminished ranks.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Not all in the world are fond of our wardenship. There are forces and interests which we never vanquished, only forced into hiding, so to speak. We are fond of believing that we have brought the world under our fold with diplomacy and our protection, but there are nations that might prefer to defend themselves from darkness. Artificers have been hard at work imagining new, more terrible weaponry, so there’s fools who think our magic is no longer needed. Some such fools would kill us to be, as they see it, freed from the bondage of us magical girls.”

“Why do we let these girls dictate our destinies?” Sieglinde said, ruefully. “Any Blossoms we leave in our foreign branches will be at risk. I… I suppose you make good points that we should reconsider that decision. But you’ll forgive us, I hope, for being afraid of losing even more of our comrades, our friends.”

“There are other positions to be filled, let’s not forget,” Henriette waved a hand towards Aissa. “If we are to continue defending your nations, we must first make sure the heart of our Rose is secured. That will necessitate that we take inventory and make certain that our many debtors won’t brush us off thinking us weak, because right now we must hold on to all the influence we can possibly maintain. Before we decide how to spread our numbers… Is anyone here good with machines?” Prishia offered herself, and Henriette wrote her name on the book held by Aissa. “Wonderful. Every single Blossom in the Office of Artifice has died. You’ll have all the keys to every laboratory, here and in the Academy, even the ones nobody was supposed to know about. Be a dear and make sure there’s no machinery that might explode and kill us all, or contaminate us with fumes that will kill us all, if there’s any machines designed to kill people or anything dangerous, for that matter.”

“We’ll ask your fellow inductees as well, later,” said Sieglinde. “Some of our new Blossoms showed astounding potential in lifecrafting, so we might task them with investigating the laboratories for any… Abominations.”

Dumbfounded, Cecilia could just stare. These were definitely things she should not be learning, things that were kept secret for a reason. To so bluntly learn that the Red Rose was involved in such underhanded affairs was a shock that, were it not for recent events, would likely have devastated her. Now, however, that was reduced to an afterthought.

“This will all return to haunt us,” said Cecilia, joining the others in sharing her thoughts. “Eventually we will have to deal with it, but we’ll be lucky if we make it there. First, then, we try not to let things fall apart too badly, yes?”

“Just so,” said Henriette. “We’ll keep all our Offices running and our departments operational. And think about recruiting with haste. It is likely that we won’t be able to be as selective of new talents as we would have preferred, but without numbers we cannot even think of recovering. Naturally, the Academy should be our first choice, as surely some of the students there must show a modicum of promise. Then, well, there’s millions of people in Cartasinde. If we can maintain good relations with the Empire, that would be of great use.”

“If?” Stelmaria tilted her head. “Tesmaria and the Red Rose have always aided each other, growing together. Why should it be any different?”

“Because we no longer have the power to match the Empire,” Cecilia pointed out. “Though we’d rather look away from this truth, people can be ungrateful. Usually, in fact, they are. All too often, it is not gratitude that sprouts from those who are helped, but bitterness and shame. Pride is loath to ask for aid, humbled by the thought of being in someone’s debt. This, I believe, may be a stronger argument in defense of not relinquishing our presence throughout the world. If we make an effort to display enduring strength, our enemies and allies alike may recoil from their plans of ridding themselves of us.”

“Our enemies are not like our allies,” said Triella. “They are not fair-weather friends to abandon us, and you’ll see that, in the end, all peoples will acknowledge how much the Red Rose has done for them, for everyone.”

“But their rulers might not,” Cecilia insisted. “The powerful will want further power, always, and with our own waning, even our sworn allies will attempt to bolster their positions and their hold on their lands. They’ll judge that to be only natural. If I’m wrong, then that’ll be wonderful for us. But it is wiser to be cautious, so if we will not retreat to our Tower to gather our strength and defend ourselves, then we’d best have well-laid plans on how to go about maintaining our influence when only a fraction of our Rose remains.”

“And do you have any such plans?” Erika Chantesse questioned her, no doubt having notions of her own, with her in the leadership when possible, of course. “The Great Nightmare was destroyed along with its servants, but the taint of darkness still lingers in the World-Wound, and there’s no lack of crises that will intensify in our moment of weakness. There’ll always be enemies to fight.”

“Loclain,” Stelmaria insisted on the matter. “The realm is divided between lands under loyalist control and regions overrun by diabolists. It is reasonably close, so we wouldn’t want to let enemies grow in power not far from us. It might be a good place to start, though I acknowledge my self-interest. Rectrix Nathaniella had already insinuated her intentions to send many new Blossoms to Loclain, certainly she’d have mentioned that to you?” Sieglinde nodded in affirmation.

“That’ll require preparations,” remarked Aissa. “But the girl is right, we have to begin somewhere. Maintain a skeleton crew in our Tower, embassies and foreign headquarters, until we can replenish our ranks.”

“Very well,” said Sieglinde. “There is promise in this plan, but we won’t set out before we can at least fill all the most urgent positions. That’ll give you time to gather all the details we need to execute this strategy.”

“M-Me?” Stelmaria was startled. “I’m no strategist, only a swordswoman…”

“You are a strategist now,” said Henriette. “And a Blossom, beside. I needn’t remind you of how precarious our situation is, how unprepared we are for this… But if it’s any comfort, it’s not as if our Founders had their future paths traced before them when they took the chance to give life to our Rose.”

It was no comfort at all, of course. Cecilia and the other girls had just found themselves dwarfed by the statues of the founders, each over a hundred meters tall, so how could new Blossoms compare? Perhaps one day the greatness of the Hall of Founders was meant to display how grand the Red Rose was, how opulent and wealthy it had become, how it was the greatest power in the world. Now it only made Cecilia feel far too small and meek for the responsibilities suddenly before them. Even Sieglinde and Henriette and the other surviving Blossoms did not seem to believe they could ever be enough to measure up to the many heroines of the Rose’s gilded past.

“Cille,” While the other girls discussed possible roles they might be able to fill, Triella tugged at her sleeve, a bit too familiar for Cecilia’s liking, but they were both Blossoms now, and would henceforth work together, so she ignored that. “Did you mean what you said? About how all the people we’ve helped might abandon us in our time of need?”

“I did,” she said. “It is the truth. I have seen it more times than I care to count. A common human flaw. Inevitable, unfortunately. Even men and women we would consider good may fall prey to this selfishness. It is natural to give priority to you and yours.”

“Should we really believe that?” Triella was more shaken by her words than Cecilia had expected. “As Blossoms, I always thought we should have some amount of faith in humanity and the goodness within. It must be worth fighting for, right?”

Cecilia said nothing. Triella didn’t seem to actually want an answer, only to voice her fears. Cecilia couldn’t blame her for that. She had fears of her own, but she could not shape them into words. Instead she only shrugged, knowing that it was not a matter of worth. We do not fight because our protection is a reward for integrity, she reflected. We fight because it is righteous, and that is what makes us different from the rest of the world.

After all, if humanity was deserving of faith and of belief in its virtue, why would it need magical girls in the first place?