There was no completing the task under stealth conditions. My companions were detained in the square, the largest open space in the city. No matter how I attempted to do this I would be seen. To me the greatest chance of success was speed.

  Scanning the square I could see dark patches on the cobbles. These were areas where the ground was obscured by a coating of fine dark particles. Mystorium. I clenched my fists in satisfaction. Yes, the mystorium was there. The suits had been disabled here. If I could remove the shackles binding them then there was every chance we could succeed.

  I wanted to give myself every chance at succeeding. I moved along the rooftops, picking my way quietly. I wanted to reach the point on the rooftops surrounding the square that was as close as possible to where they were arrayed.

  As I moved I listened to the traitors below. The golem-suited being was chatting happily. The voice that emanated from the helm was inhuman, distorted by whatever apparatus the strange suit employed to make speech, but I was nearly certain that it was the voice of a human. A man stood within that suit. A man who had made a deal with F’ael. A man who had betrayed our city using dark esoteric powers. My mind wandered as I moved carefully, thinking of the cults that Chowwick had told me about. The Children of the Fountain, yes. But there had been others. Worshippers of Eros? Followers of Cruach? From what I knew the golems belonged to F’ael, but my understanding of this was so limited. I couldn’t discount that other beings might have access to and control of the same kinds of resources.

  Enki had told me that F’ael wanted me stopped. It stood to reason that this was being opposing me. Enki’s silence was frustrating. If ever there was a time when I could have used the voice’s advice, this would have been it. In the absence of that counsel I pressed on. I had an opportunity here to flip the script, to free the Griidlords and do battle. If I tarried too long they might be taken to the Tower, the enemy would have more time to consolidate.

  I glanced down and saw soldiers rushing into the square. Five of them, all dressed in the colors of House Darkwater. They came from the direction I had been approaching from before I leapt to the rooftops.

  I paused, staying low and watched, reaching out with SIGHT and HEARING.

  The lead soldier made straight for the golem-suit. His face was tight, tense. His eyes darted. The man was stressed. Stressed and afraid.

  The golem-suit turned to him. “Yes?” The voice was so garbled. It was unnervingly alien.

  The soldier stopped short, saluting the golem-suit. This confirmed to me at least that the suit was in charge of what was happening. I’d expected no less, I’d seen evidence in the way it commanded the others in the square.

  The soldier addressed the suit with eyes turned down. I couldn’t tell if this was respect, fear, or discomfort. “My lord, a golem has been destroyed. We found the wreckage not 200 yards down Main Street.”

  I peered at the golem-suit, hunting for clues in its reaction. Had I substantially weakened his position? How much he cared about the loss of a golem might betray the size of his reserves.

  The suit spoke, aloof and amused, “Oh you did, did you… good.”

  “Good, my lord?”

  “Oh yes. Very good. That means he’s here. It’s perfect timing, the others have all been taken out of the equation. This will allow for a real reckoning. I’ve dreamed of this for months.”

  As the suit spoke it cast about, then shifted its gaze to the rooftops. I withdrew hurriedly, concealing what little part of myself had been exposed by my spying. I frowned as I crept forward. Who was in the suit? The soldier had addressed him as a noble, but that was neither surprising nor helpful. Leona had warned me that the nobles might betray our city. But who rested within it? None of the suspect lords were present in the square, and any of them could reside in the suit. Darkwater? Farseer? The voice wasn’t female, so it wasn’t Lady Ironveil. I shuddered as I considered the possibility of Lance resting within the confines of that armor. How powerful was it? How did it compare to a Griid suit?

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I reached my destination high on the roof of the Regal Hotel. My companions were not fifty yards distant from the front of the building. I suppressed my urge to succumb to the urgency and leap down. I could make the jump, even with my wounded knee. The act would draw the attention of the soldiers and the golems, the sound of my impact on the ground would be unmissable.

  Instead of leaping down, I moved to the edge of the roof on the side away from the square and climbed down. With my strength and agility the task was simple. What would have been a death-defying task for a mortal was a nothing to me. I swung from window sills and drainpipes easily and made my way down to the second floor of the hotel, where a balcony provided the landing spot I desired.

  I landed softly on the balcony and made my way inside. I passed through the decadent guest room. It was vacant. I entered the hall of the hotel. It was lovely, all carpets and old wood paneling. A huddle of servants and guests stood at the windows on the square side of the building, peering out and watching. There was fear and barely managed panic in all of them. They couldn’t know what was coming, all they knew was that upheaval and civil discord had arrived in our city.

  I passed unnoticed and made my way down the stairs. Not a head turned at the sound of my passage. Their eyes were fixed on the display in the square. Their Lord Supreme stood there, bound. Their Griidlords, the superheroes of their reality, were defeated. Demons walked the Tower Square and they had attention for nothing else. In the foyer I found the manager shifting nervously, standing near the front desk and peering out the door. I knew the man in passing but his name escaped me. When he saw me his eyes exploded to little moons, his already strained face becoming a tapestry of stretched lines.

  I held a finger to the front of my visor. “Shhhh.”

  He gulped for air, his mouth working like a beached fish. Eventually he breathed, his voice so low, “M-m-m-my lord Bloodsword! You’re here!”

  “That I am.”

  “Wh-what do you intend to do?”

  I grinned behind my visor. It was strange how unafraid I felt. But then, I was nearly Level 50. What was there in this world that I couldn’t handle?

  I spoke, low but confident, “I intend to free my fellow Griidlords and take back our city. Did you see what happened here?”

  He shook his head, then considered and nodded. “Yes and no, my lord. I don’t know when the fighting started. We were in the midst of service and quite busy. At some point a guest screamed, looking out the window. The city guard were battling soldiers of the larger houses. They put a fair showing. I went to manage the guests, there was so much panic. When I came back those… those… those huge fiends were there, smashing men into paste. The fight didn’t last much longer than that.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t have guessed. I said, “There’s going to be more fighting now. Griidlords fighting. That might mean damage and danger. You should get the guests away from the windows and put them somewhere secure. The cellars maybe.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  I didn’t wait to see if he acted. I stalked across the foyer and paused at the door to the square. I peered out carefully, looking over the beautiful veranda where I’d shared drinks with Balthazar a lifetime ago.

  There they were, Racquel and the others, their backs to me. I scanned the traitors and no eyes turned my direction. I seized the moment and raced forward, my cape flapping around me.

  I darted forward. Fifty yards was nothing in the suit and I was at Racquel’s shoulder before I knew it. My sword was in my hand. I put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to me. She started, eyes widening, but she made no sound. She looked at me with surprise and building terror. But she didn’t speak, she made no sound.

  I raised my sword, energy sheathing the blade as I prepared to strike the shackles from her wrists.

  Then an explosion of agony. Energy washed over me and I was tossed away in the storm. I slammed to the cobbles, rolling and tumbling, my skin burned from the pain of the blast, my knee screamed at me as it jolted against the ground.

  I was back on my feet in a moment. The golem-suit stood facing me. It held a sword as well. I’d seen none on its back or hip when I’d spied it before. The sword was leveled at me, glowing with the residual energy from the BEAM it had fired.

  The suit spoke. “You came. I knew you would. If I’m honest, I was waiting for you, Shopkeeper.”

  I froze. Shopkeeper. It was him. After all this time. Even after his total defeat, here he was again.

  I growled, “Lance.”

  The golem suit swept its arms out and made a mocking dip of its knee. “None other. Surprised, Shopkeeper? You should have known you couldn’t beat me. You put on a fair showing, I’ll give you that much. But the thought that you could take my city from me? Pfft. I’m here to take it back.”

  I felt a strange dread certainty fill me. It felt like fate. Like destiny had always intended us to finish it like this somehow.

  I leveled my sword at him.

  I certainly intended to finish it.

  A Time of Change and Broken Chains. That process is moving along pretty well, I’m more than a third of the way through it, but it’s taxing. I could write all day long, every day, and be so happy. Rewriting and editing are not my jam. They are so not my jam that I struggle to stay focused, to get through it. It’s honestly really hard going for me. I know, boohoo, but it’s a personal thing where I just have to keep muscling through.