Chapter 158 – Gathering Forces

Trinea’s fireball wand was a nice one. Judging by its size and shape, it probably had two parallel conduits in it. And, because it was pointed right at her face, she could see the outer glyphwork was impeccable. Even with spell resistance, at that range and intensity, Mirian was going to lose her face.

Mirian thought about denying it, but this was Adria’s good friend. It would be like if someone tried to impersonate Lily; she knew her too well.

“I said, who the fuck are you?” Trinea hissed again.

“I can tell you,” Mirian said. “Just hear me out, okay?”

Trinea’s jaw was clenched and her eyes blazing. She needed to phrase what she was going to say carefully.

“Deeps agent Nikoline Brunn killed her entire cell and murdered Adria three years ago. She was impersonating her and sending you letters until I killed her. I’m a Prophet. So is the man you’re trying to fight out there.”

Trinea’s eyes were brimming with tears. They started to streak down her cheeks, but she didn’t look away from Mirian, didn’t blink. “Bullshit. Adria wouldn’t let… she wouldn’t. She was too smart. Too brave. Too good.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I never knew her. But I know what it’s like.”

The Praetorian jabbed her wand closer to Mirian so it was right by her eye. “Bullshit you know what it’s like!”

She did, but Mirian understood that she couldn’t argue Trinea out of her grief. “I’m going to take a step back and summon a sword, okay? Not to harm you, just to show you,” she said.

“If you try anything,” Trinea said but left the threat unfinished.

Mirian closed her eyes as she let Eclipse manifest in her hand, point down. As she did, she also summoned her mythril amulet.

Trinea looked at the sword, then at Mirian.

“The reason the artillery was positioned perfectly to wipe out your squad is because Ibrahim Kalishah is living this month over and over until he can command the perfect battle. When this all started, Dawn’s Peace was annihilated. So was I. So was my very good friend and roommate. I’m sorry for deceiving you. I know how much it hurts. But I need you, and I need the Praetorians. This was the only way.”

The woman took a step back, then collapsed against the door. She didn’t weep, or cry, or scream. She just looked shocked. Then she blinked, clenched her teeth, and stood.

The resilience and control of a Praetorian, Mirian thought.

“Who are you?” Trinea said again, though her wand was back in its sheath.

“Mirian. A random student from the Torrviol Academy who you’ve never heard of. And the Seventh Prophet of the Ominian.”

“Prophets. How can there be more than one?”

She sighed, relaxing a little. Didn’t think that would work. “Great question. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know. But my best lead right now for why the world ends is the Elder titan that’s going to emerge at the end of the month. That part wasn’t a lie.”

“The world… what?”

“Ends. On the 6th of Duala. That’s what I’m trying to stop. And if I have to cross some ethical boundaries to save the world, then, well, it’ll have been worth it. I need your help.”

She didn’t explain everything. There were far too many details at this point, but she laid out the basics.

“This is all going to happen again. That’s inevitable. I need to know what I can do better.”

Trinea was looking for other possibilities to explain what was going on. Mirian was used to that by now, so she gave her time. But she knew the contents of the letters, could summon a mythril sword with an adamantium edge, and told a story that made a lot of things line up. Trinea had paced about as she talked, but now she was just sitting there again. A Praetorian of all people would recognize mythril and what that meant about Mirian’s knowledge of the Luminate Order’s great secrets.

Mirian waited patiently. That Trinea hadn’t blown her head off with a fireball was a good sign that she could listen to reason.

“I can’t look at you like that,” Trinea said finally. “Wearing her body. It’s wrong.”

Mirian didn’t have enough charged soul repositories to undo and redo the bindings, so she cast an illusion spell that resembled herself enough to pass. She didn’t bother changing her eyes or uniform, though.

“Just some girl,” Trinea muttered. “Adria was no good at lightning spells,” she said. “And she always took 3rd position in the formation.” She shook her head. “You killed the monster that did this to her?”

“Every cycle. And no matter how this ends, her murderer dies. You have my word.”

“What do you need?” she asked.

“I’d like this to stay a secret. Both Ibrahim and the Akanan Prophet are looking for me, and they don’t have Baracuel’s best interest in mind. The thing I need right now is how to act like a better Praetorian.”

***

Mirian awoke to the pleasant news that the militias had foiled a dastardly plot by Persaman infiltrators to burn up the fossilized myrvite warehouse. She then created a forged letter—written in childish Adamic, because that was all she could manage—that both detailed a Persaman plan of attack and implied they’d seized key doctrinal documents in one of the forts. In short, the enemy could predict Baracueli attacks. Mirian claimed it had come from a militia member who hadn’t realized what he’d found. According to Trinea, Adria had known basic Adamic, so that at least wouldn’t be questioned.

When she produced it for Commander Ayral, the garrison commander also remembered her advice on the warehouse, and sent out orders across the line to rearrange their forces and timing.

If any of the command staff had been able to read Adamic, it would have raised a lot of questions. Her plan to pass it off as the work of a nearly illiterate enemy officer, though, wasn’t necessary. With that done, the battle began to rapidly shift.

When the Fort Aegrimere airships arrived a few days later, flying high above the battlefield, raining down artillery on the enemy, wild cheers erupted along the walls, and the news quickly spread throughout the city. As they landed in the plaza north of the Citadel, she was surprised to see Commander Hirte himself leading the operation. When he saw her, he gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

In the meantime, Trinea and Mirian had ‘practice sessions,’ which was just the veteran Praetorian giving her a crash course on formations and protocols.

Over the next three days, the airships circled around the Persaman lines, destroying the train supplying them with logistics and helping relieve the besieged garrisons in the southern forts. While the enemy logistics and troop movements were cut to ribbons and their lines suppressed by artillery, the Praetorians sortied out several more times to drop precise fire. Following that, the garrison and Baracueli reinforcements overran their lines, forcing the Persaman army to abandon its position.

Commander Ayral then led the counterattack, pushing the Persamans all the way back to the forts. When those were retaken, Baracueli reinforcements poured into the passes, assembling field fortifications to supplement those forts.

Ibrahim’s siege was over, though the time traveler himself never surfaced.

***

After the tide turned, it was Commander Hirte who sought her out. They met on the battlements as the sun set.

“You came here yourself,” Mirian said.

“When I heard the news of the attack, I had to. Fort Aegrimere will do fine without me,” he said, tone light.

Ironic. Now Fort Aegrimere might fall due to his absence. “It’s not over yet,” she said. “The titan awaits us.”

“Of course,” Hirte said, but she could tell his mind wasn’t on that. Together, they looked out over the walls, past the white spires, past the houses and docks, to where the horizon was still bright along the Southern Range, all the way to the distant Casnevar Range to their west. Above that strip of orange, the sky was pale, until, like the corpses strewn across the battlefield, the light bled out into black.

“This is my favorite view in the Citadel,” he said, smiling. “Not because it sees the farthest, but because it feels more real. Behind you, the high walls of the inner fortress. In front of you, the city, and the people you’re sworn to protect. All around, the Gods and temples, whose grace we spread, whose light we follow, and the great spires, pointing to the stars they guard. Unsurpassed in beauty. Except, perhaps, by you.”

Mirian involuntarily blushed. She’d grown used to Nicolus’s compliments, and over the cycles, they’d grown so predictable they stopped feeling genuine, even if they were. This was new and unexpected, for once.

But it also wasn’t something meant for her. It’s meant for Adria.

The two feelings mixed together into an unrecognizable alchemy. She didn’t know what to do.

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“Adria!” Trinea called, and Mirian had to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. “Ah, Commander Hirte, isn’t it? Apologies, I need to borrow my colleague. After-action report protocol is very strict.”

“Another time,” Mirian said quietly, and looked back as she left.

As soon as they were around the corner, Trinea whispered, “What in the five hells was that? Are you just going around ruining her reputation now?”

“No, I don’t know when it happened,” Mirian said. “She exchanged frequent letters with Hirte, but I didn’t know they were having an affair until I met him at the fort.”

Anger flashed in Trinea’s eyes. “Adria wouldn’t have.”

“Maybe she didn’t. Maybe Specter did. I don’t know, I was busy taking introductory classes at the time.”

“Adria wouldn’t have,” Trinea repeated.

“Is that truly what you’re worried about? You learn the world is ending, and you’re worried about one indiscretion?”

“What else is there?” she snapped.

That gave Mirian pause. What else indeed. “I wish the truths of the world weren’t so painful.” They walked in silence, until Mirian said, “Is there actually an after-action report?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Who does it go to?”