Kaius sat at a restaurant table right at the edge of their outside seating. He’d had to shuffle it away a little further still to make room for Porkchop, but none of the staff had minded — nor the few other patrons that were still in the mood to eat out, given the circumstances.

  He and Porkchop were alone. Ianmus was still holed up in their suite at the Dusty Stables, desperately preparing for the arrival of his fellow Spire mages. Kenva was as busy as ever; the ranger had committed herself to the production of arrows, and every spare second she got had been devoted to singing them out of the trees she’d found in the governor’s personal greenhouse.

  Thinking of Ianmus reminded Kaius that he, too, needed to prepare for the mages’ arrival. His friend took his duty to Sunspire seriously, and had been preparing a treatise on his understanding of keyseals so that the Spires could further the art with more research. Kaius was doing the same — perhaps not in as great detail. Glyphbinding was first and foremost a runic art, but he had begun a description of the fundamentals; those roots his father had discovered. He was almost finished, and he hoped that when he was done it would be enough for a skilled runewright to recreate something similar to his original glyph.

  That should be enough to safeguard the knowledge of glyphbinding should the worst come to pass before he was able to share his findings in more detail with the Collective. He would, of course, extract any oath he could from the mages to deliver his preliminary notes to the Mystral branch of the Collective so that they could be registered in his name.

  There was a chance of foul play, but he felt that it was unlikely. For one, the Spires were a generally honourable and upstanding institution; the political risk to their image of trying to swindle a Silver of good repute like himself was too great. And for another, he’d left enough vagaries in his explanation that being able to expound on the details would irrevocably prove that he was the original author if somebody else tried to pass off the work as their own.

  “What’s got you so distracted that you can’t even take the time to enjoy one of our few moments of rest?” Porkchop asked, nudging his leg.

  Kaius blinked, then smiled at his bondbrother. “Just thinking about the mages.”

  Porkchop chuckled. “Well, don’t. Have a go at enjoying your food instead. Who knows when we’ll next be able to eat out like this.”

  Kaius smiled — Porkchop was right. Picking up his fork, he speared at his salad, doing his best to aim for a slice of beef sitting atop the greens. In all honesty, it was a damned surprise that they’d even managed to find a place to eat.

  The few cooks and chefs that were still operating had mostly taken to converting food into shelf-stable products in as great a volume as they could.

  Though, he did suppose there was good money to be made in being one of the few enterprises still serving in the current market. It was clear he was paying out the arse for the luxury; whoever owned the Crooked Hen had raised their prices three times over. It was a drop in the bucket for one such as him, but… well, it was no surprise that most of the remaining clientele were delvers and merchants themselves.

  It was a good day at least. He had a hearty warm salad, and even if they would soon have to leave to make contact with the Castellan living below the city, that could wait an hour. The sun was shining bright, and he and Porkchop had a perfect view of the city square in front of them.

  It was filled with nearly a hundred youngsters of all stripes. Each and every one of them was focused, listening to the directions of four guild trainers who walked amongst them, giving out pointers and other advice.

  From what Kaius had been able to pick out, they were working on the skill Sure-Footed Scout. It was an interesting one — a legacy skill of five mergers that came from the batch other members of the guild had contributed. It had mild ocular properties: enhancing threat detection and visual awareness, and providing identification capabilities — but it also had a physical enhancement component as well, making the user better at traversing rough terrain and moving swiftly.

  It was, like many of the legacy skills in the guild’s release, a highly flexible skill that could find its place in many builds.

  Something that had not been missed by this batch attempting to learn it. Kaius could pick out would-be skirmishers, rogues, rangers — even what looked to be a few bastions, and a couple of mage-hopefuls.

  Since he and Porkchop had arrived, the trainers had been teaching the gathered students to infuse their eyes with mana.

  Kaius grinned. He remembered that discomfort — the stinging pressure that came with it — yet not one of them complained, nor did any of them slack. They delved into their training with the gusto of somebody who had been given a blessing of the gods, which, in many ways, they had.

  From urchins to merchants, poor and wealthy alike, none of those in the square would have had access to legacy skills. This was an opportunity that it seemed not one of them was willing to let pass, not even with the threat of beasts on the horizon.

  Kaius could barely grapple with it. It had barely been two days since Rieker had made his announcement, and still the young gathered in hordes, soaking up every bit of knowledge they could — even as scores of men skirted the edge of the square, carting wagons of raw material to alchemists and smiths who would produce the supplies to support the war effort.

  There was no sign of the approaching beasts yet. Whatever malevolence the tyrant held was a cruel one. While the movement of an army was not a swift thing, it seemed to be taking its time, moving slowly so that they could steep in their own unease.

  Already, there had been refugees from the west: those sane inhabitants of outlying villages who, upon hearing that a wave of monsters was coming their way, had fled to the walls of Deadacre. It was, unfortunately, not all — or even most — of the cities inhabitants. Too many were too stubborn, too proud, or too disbelieving to make the journey.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Yet if the tyrant was cruel enough to give them time, Deadacre had not squandered it. The city was preparing — and, Kaius supposed, so were those young who trained just ahead of him in the square. Every skill they learned now, even if they had little hope of capping and completing a merge, would still aid them in surviving.

  And not just those who would remain in Deadacre. This very evening, the first exodus would begin. From what he’d heard, there were thousands who had decided to band together and strike for Mystral.

  It was a risky enterprise. Deadacre could spare neither guards nor delvers to escort them. In the numbers they moved, common, uninfluenced beasts were not likely to strike, but it was still a risk. The Wildgard Mountains were a land of terrors. Mystral was sending a force to the Mages’ Pass that granted access to the city through the Wildgard Mountains, but they would still lose people.

  Kaius could understand why most preferred to rest their hopes in the defences of Deadacre’s walls and forces.

  Kaius blinked, shaking his head. He needed to stop being so morose. Even if a siege was coming, he had to appreciate the miracle in front of him. Public skill training, free of charge, for a legacy skill. Any other time, any other day, and he would have said it was an impossibility.

  “It is rather nice to see, is it not?” Porkchop agreed. “And look, over there.”

  Kaius felt a nudge in his mind, directing his attention to a figure deep in the throng. Now that the boy had been pointed out, it took Kaius only a moment to recognise that it was Niles.

  Rather than the skinny, mud-drenched thing he had stumbled upon in the alleyway, he looked well-fed, and his frame had filled out a bit with wiry muscle in the last couple of months since Kaius had last seen him. The boy even had the blade Kaius had given him belted at his waist. Ro must have trusted that he was ready to look after it.

  The focused frown on his face — Niles was manipulating his mana as it moved towards his eyes in flickering spurts — and for someone so new to the process he was doing admirably.

  Kaius leaned back, a wide smile on his face, as he suddenly felt far more full and satisfied than could be explained by his lunch alone.

  Kaius took another bite of the salad. Until he finished his lunch, he would enjoy the show.

  …

  Deep beneath the city, Kaius looked around the borehole that held the entrance to the Imperial facility. It was subtly different. While the hallway beyond the massive vault door was still broken and shattered, much had been changed. True structural damage had been repaired and replaced by new stone. While the torn and shattered barriers and defensive stations had remained, the magic within the walls that had been able to track was largely absent.

  “Skeleton’s are gone, too.” Porkchop added.

  Kaius blinked and realised that his brother was right. Not just the ancient remains either — the team that had originally been tucked away at the bottom of the borehole entrance had vanished. It was, he thought, a good thing. If people were to shelter in the maintenance tunnels above, there was a higher likelihood they might stumble across here, and the less evidence of past slaughter, the better.

  Before he could reply, Kaius heard a hissing crack from within the entrance to the facility, followed by a familiar tinny voice.

  “Lord Unterstern, you have returned.”

  The automata’s voice was there, but he could not see its body.

  “Where are you, Castellan?”

  “In cold storage, my lord. Repairs have progressed to the extent that I am able to network into the facility once more. This is a simple voice projection through artefice, nothing else.”

  Kaius nodded. That was good. What he had seen in the Castellan and explained had meant it had made extensive progress since they’d last seen each other — only a little less than a week ago. He hoped his request could be completed just as swiftly.

  “I come with news, Castellan. A tyrant has been spotted, and it leads an army of beasts to Deadacre — many thousands of them, their levels as high as low Steel.”

  The Castellan’s response was immediate. “Dire news, my lord. Is this one of these threats that you mentioned came with the phase change?”

  Kaius nodded. “The very same.”

  The Castellan paused for a moment. “My lord, I counsel you shelter within this facility. If the city falls, I will be able to exfiltrate you away from the city. That will mean damage to my chassis.”

  “We will be doing no such thing,” Porkchop said. “The people here need us.”

  Kaius nodded, before he relayed Porkchop’s words for the Castellan.

  “My bondbrother is right. We hoped to shelter civilians in the maintenance tunnel above, and perhaps even the facility if the walls are breached. I was hoping that you would be able to alter the secure doors so that they could be operated by hand. If the worst comes to it, would you be able to defend them?”

  “The adjustments to the blast door mechanisms would be trivial,” the Castellan replied, “as would the use of worker drones and defence. I can easily station a great number of them in the tunnels that extend past the city walls. However, utilising Centurions is only possible within the facility proper. Their energy demands are too high — beyond that, serious consideration must be made for the political fall out of active automata defense.” The castellan paused for a moment. “As for myself, I have no doubt I could slay this Tyrant, but I am not built for extended engagements. The mana I draw through my chassis is great enough to cause damage during combat activation. Failure would be inevitable, especially against an army of lesser creatures.”

  Kaius winced. He’d hoped he’d be able to rely on the Castellan to preserve the innocent. He could only hope that the drones would be enough — with their high levels and reinforced bodies, the beasts would find them a tough bite to chew through.

  “Don’t worry too much, Kaius,” Porkchop said. “At least this way we dont need to worry about a horde surging out of the sewers.”

  Kaius shook his head. Even if they did have some measure of defence, it was frustrating to know that a pinnacle existence lay right beneath their feet, and yet it was unable to solve their problem for them.

  “Was there anything else, my lord?” the Castellan asked.

  Kaius shook his head. “No.”

  He was far too busy to stick around and chat — there was, after all, a war brewing.

  “In that case, I shall have the far tunnels populated and defended within the next few hours. The adjustments to the doors will take another two days, at which point I will be ready. I will be ready to receive refugees as they are required.”

  “Thank you, Castellan,” Kaius said, then nodded.

  He nodded to Porkchop, gesturing back up the stairs that spiralled up the edge of the borehole with his chin. “Come on. Let’s get back to the stables.”