B4 Chapter 470: War Room, pt. 2

Ro paced at the head of the meeting room, like the frenetic pace of her footfalls could browbeat the very world into submission.

What had happened to Bronwyn and his team, and what had Ro so worried, poisoned every extra moment. It soured into a tangled knot of anticipation that left the soft suede of the seat he sat in feeling as rough as iron filings against his skin.

His impatience didn’t matter. Whatever had happened, it was clear there was an emergency. Ro, of all people, knew what was going on, and he trusted her to know if it was more important they explain their time in the Imperial ruins first.

Their explanation had been as swift as they could make it. Ro had taken it as well as he could have expected. Far, far too well, in all honesty. Yes, she paced, striking out a drumbeat of frustration, but even when he revealed the existence of a gods-damned mithril automaton beneath the city, nor his own link to the ancient Eternal Empire and the authority it granted him over the ruins, she hadn’t reacted – or at least her reaction hadn’t changed. Just more footsteps.

Thump after thump after thump. Each one striking tension within him, a miniature peal of thunder.

Yet another step.

The tension within him vibrated like a plucked string with each impact. Gods, he just wanted to know.

“Shall we check if she’s okay?” Porkchop asked silently through their bond, and Kaius could tell he projected it to Ianmus and Kenva as well.

“No,” Kaius replied, trusting Porkchop to relay his words. “She’s obviously got a lot on her mind. Something has happened. Just give her a little time.”

All of a sudden, Ro snapped to a stop, her heels clacking together like a miniature peal of thunder.

“Fuck.”

That was the only thing she said before the Guild administrator went back to pacing. Locking her arms behind her head, she stared up at the ceiling, like the answers to whatever bothered her might be hidden in the shadows of the beams.

The final step, and Ro let out an explosive sigh.

“Fuck,” she said again. That single word was packed with so much frustration that it may as well have landed like a hammer blow. “The fates truly are fickle bitches, aren’t they?”

The Guild administrator paused for a moment before she turned to them. “You are sure that it is benevolent, and that it can hide evidence of the lower levels?”

“As sure as I can be,” Kaius replied.

He rapped his knuckles against his prosthetic, a metal clang ringing out. “That thing could have slaughtered us as easy as I take a breath. It was monstrous. Yet the second it confirmed my identity it showed nothing but obeisance.

“And the generally omnicidal disposition of the other automata? An ancient directive, tied some way to the shattering and whatever conspiracy my ancestors were wrapped up in. I was able to override it, though the Castellan was clear that facilities without a thinking mind such as itself, or ones in worse states of repair, would be far harder to do similar with.”

“Fuck. Okay. Okay. A superficially disabled ruin, some behind-the-curtain support from something powerful. I might be able to use that. Maybe. Maybe,” Ro muttered. It was clear that she was talking to herself. “The automata are not true game changers, if none of them can function outside of the ruin. The Castellan could act if the place was breached… But, no. Better it stays hidden. Word of it getting out might be even more dangerous.”

“Ro,” Ianmus said softly, drawing the Guild administrator’s attention as he interrupted her. “What happened with Dross? Bronwyn and the others, are they…?” he trailed off.

Ro grit her teeth and went back to pacing.

That was all the answer that Kaius needed. Fuck, indeed. Gods damn it. Not them. The confirmation of their loss hit him surprisingly hard. It wasn’t grief, not truly – he didn’t know them well enough for that – but the loss of it all… they were good folks and hard workers, and Deadacre was far worse off without them. No wonder Ro was more stressed than he’d ever seen her before. She would have worked with them closely for years; her direct subordinates being cut down would have cut her deep.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Eventually, Ro found her voice again. “Dross was dragged into the Guildhall by Iron rankers only a few hours before you got here. One of the worst cases of stamina burn I’ve ever seen. We treated him, but he’s still out of it, so I don’t have a full picture of what is occurring. He was clear about a few things. The rest of his team are dead.”

“How?” Kenva whispered, her voice horrified.

It was a fair question. Even with the unnatural behaviour of those beasts, and their sheer numbers, Bronwyn and his team were capable and skilled enough to avoid getting pinned down and swarmed. They would have had countermeasures, plans and backup plans.