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.

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  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.

  “A Tyrant,” Ro replied.

  Kaius froze. A what? No, it couldn't be. The thought had hung at the back of his mind, but… no. For one long moment, all he could think of was the undeniable fact that his own actions had played into their death. It was a thought that came out of nowhere, struck him like a punch to the blind spot, and left him reeling.

  Ro's gaze sharpened. “It's understandable, and if you didn't feel that way, I'd question your capacity for empathy, but if Dross sees it, he'll try to rein his shit in so you don't feel bad. This is not your fault. Got it?”

  Kaius swallowed dryly and nodded. He didn't know how, but gods forbid he made a man who had just lost his entire team – the friends he had eaten with, slept next to, and spent every waking moment around for decades – feel worse.

  Watching him marshal his expression, Ro gave him a satisfied nod. “A tyrant's not the only thing. Dross is convinced that an army is coming. That the tyrant is leading its beasts back here to attack. We don't know why, but if it's true, it'll be a siege.”

  Porkchop straightened. “Are you sure?”

  Ro shook her head. “No. I have specialised teams of high Steels making long-distance scouting expeditions now. They should be back by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Earlier, if there is an army and they're on the move.”

  “What do we do?” Ianmus asked.

  Kaius agreed. With dozens of villages, tens of thousands of everyday citizens in the city itself… gods. It would be a bloodbath.

  “We prepare. Rieker's already meeting with the governor to enact a state of emergency, and draw in as many from the outlying areas into the city as we can. There's a war council tonight. We need you there. With that brawn on this team, you're the only heavy hitters, other than Rieker, myself, and Arc.”

  Ro's eyes shifted down to his prosthetic. She winced. “Gods. Let's just hope it doesn't end up in a melee.”

  Kaius paled, more aware of the absence of his limb than he ever had been. A siege he could manage with his magic, but swordplay? A melee? Fuck. He could only hope that he would have enough time to recover before anything happened.

  Ro drummed her hands on the table. “I need some time with Dross. He's still shaken up, but we need him at the meeting. The guard has already been formed and prepared. If warning goes out that the beasts have been spotted, you should stay ready for battle as well. Otherwise… go back to the Dusty Stables and clean up. You've had a long expedition and you need at least a few hours of rest. Go to the governor's estate at sunset. They already know to expect you.”

  “And the ruin?” Kaius asked. It was sturdy, underground, and large. If it did come to a siege, it would be the perfect bunker, but he was worried the odd nature of it, or his involvement when its history got out, could prove ruinous. And yet, he wasn't sure he could live with himself if he sacrificed thousands of lives on the off chance the secrets might be harmful to him.

  “We keep it to ourselves for now,” Ro replied. “It's useful, but we can't let the secret of the Castellan or the Sovereign Star or any of your history slip. It is a thing that would prove dangerous not just to you, but the entire bloody city. At the very least, if the Castellan proves trustworthy, and it can falsify the upper levels as an entirely destroyed facility, it’ll make a good redoubt for civilians. I'm not sure, though, I'll need to discuss it with Rieker.”

  A wave of shame washed over Kaius at just how relieved that response made him feel.

  …

  Kaius stared up at the governor's manor, feeling like he might be sick.

  It would have been impossible to relax in the hours since they'd talked to Ro, not after what they'd learned. The desperate calls to know more from his fellow guildmates as they'd exited the hall had only made it worse. What did he say? That the strongest team they'd ever known had been killed by some monstrosity, and that all of them might be next? He wasn't built for the attention that came with their new strength. It was a weight that sat uncomfortably on his shoulders.

  Gods. It was all he could do to assure them that Rieker and Ro would make an announcement soon enough, and that Dross was healthy, but still too exhausted to properly explain what had occurred. A cop-out answer, but the only one he had.

  Now he stood before a building of dark stone, spires and carved buttresses. It was, he'd heard, an ancient thing, as old as the city walls, and Governor Hanrick's ancient ancestor had laid the foundations for what had become Deadacre. A symbol of sovereignty and independence. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, Kaius could only hope that the fates of the city weren’t turning darker as well.

  Feeling his glum mood, Porkchop nosed at his arm until Kaius reached up to scratch behind his brother's ear.

  “Shall we get going?” Porkchop asked. “Those guards keep getting more nervous the longer we stand here without saying anything.”

  Kaius let out a sigh. “Let's.”

  “Don't worry, Kaius. We'll figure it out. We always have,” Kenva said, clapping him on the shoulder as they started to move towards the massive arched doors that led into the seat of Deadacre's authority.

  He just shook his head. It was a hells of a way to finally meet the governor, that was for sure.

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