Ossian and Argrave did not enter the headquarters of the Order of the Rose without proper planning. What they intended to do was already established long beforehand, both offering some contributions based on experience.
For Ossian’s part, he knew how the Guardians would attack. They had all the reckless abandon of a locust plague—they had numbers, and knew well how to take advantage of them. Despite this, they were not unintelligent in their attacks. They had weapons bolted to the backs of their hands, and they knew how to use them effectively. They would lurk in corners or hang off ledges, waiting for an opportunity to capitalize on a mistake or simply surprise an unwitting wanderer.
Argrave knew simply that being encircled would be the least ideal situation, and the rough path that they needed to take. Beyond that, he left the strategizing to Ossian. The man was competent, and he could be trusted to see their plan to fruition despite his lack of trust in them.
The key in this situation was simply this—a burst forth. They would need to move quickly, never allowing the creatures to obtain an advantageous position.
Argrave took the first step forward, Galamon just beside him, sandwiched between him and Anneliese. They moved in a steady jog, heading across the balcony of the second floor that overlooked the central lobby towards the stairs. The spellcasters working with the Sentinels strove to light the place as best they could, uncaring about the attention attracted—they wanted to attract attention, at least somewhat.
Galamon served as the protector, warding off stray attacks from Guardians lurking in places unseen. Anneliese and Argrave served as the wedge to open a gap. Whenever a group of Guardians would block their advance, they would need to use magic to dispel them forcibly. Despite their fierceness, the Guardians were light compared to humans—a sufficiently powerful spell would knock them away. Fire, lightning, and wind elemental magic danced through the air, sending the creatures flying.
Their initial rush from the Menagerie to the stairs proved to be no issue. Yet as the sounds of the elements echoed out across the stone building, fell noises returned—metal grating against stone, flesh slapping against the ground… all signs the Guardians heard their advance and already moved to stop it.
Progress slowed at the stairs. The Guardians climbed up the side, thrusting at the three of them through the railings like wolves nipping at the heels as a pack. The Sentinels, though, moved forward with unity, pushing back against the tide that rose up the stairs. With their parties grouped closer together, Argrave proceeded further once again, careful not to stumble on the stairs.
Once Argrave’s feet stepped off the stairs and met the ground floor, he thought the anxiety might be relieved somewhat… but looking out across the room only stoked his unease ever higher. Despite the haste Argrave had endeavored to achieve, the creatures already pooled in the central lobby. Gleaming black and gold eyes moved towards them, so numerous they were uncountable.
“Gods be damned,” Ossian cursed, stepping up beside Argrave. “There’s too many. Cut our losses—we return to the Menagerie.”
“Fuck that,” Argrave disagreed, panic making his tongue crasser than normal. “I’ll carve a path.”
“What?!” Ossian said in disbelief.
“Didn’t want to use this at all,” Argrave shook his head. He gestured his hand backwards. “Don’t send anyone forward.”
Argrave triggered the Blessing of Supersession. It felt as though his whole being was being flooded, magic welling up from his chest like a spring freed from the rocks. Erratic thoughts about preserving his magic and minimizing his debt vanished to the wind, whisked away by the tornado of panic disturbing his guts. He stepped past Anneliese and Galamon, conjuring a B-rank ward with his enchanted ring to protect them from errant magic. With the central hallway in the distance in his mind, he held his hands out, spell matrixes forming.
White lightning, fiery wolves, spears of ice, and blades of pressurized wind danced out across the central lobby, sending debris and flesh every which way. The entire place became awash with spell light. The sheer sound, sight, and smell of it all consumed Argrave’s senses until nothing else occupied his thoughts. He sought out the creature’s black eyes as his targets, conjuring spells as an indiscriminate butcher. The sheer sense of power he felt in that moment combatted his anxiety, crushing it utterly.
He could feel the heat before him, as though he were standing before a blast furnace with hands outstretched. Every bolt of lightning that sounded out resounded in his chest like a giant drum. Spears of ice hurtled forth, meeting flesh or stone and shattering into a fine blue mist. The wind cut all it moved past, setting anything loose within the room in motion.
It was only once he felt a hand on his shoulder did Argrave remember himself. His ears rung, and he turned to see Anneliese mouthing words. As the ringing faded, he made sense of her words.
“…over. We have a path, Argrave.”
Argrave nodded, shaking. “Yeah. Yeah, right. Let’s…”
“What in the gods’ name are you?” Ossian spoke, looking out across the carnage.
Argrave clenched his fists, feeling the leather gloves soaked in sweat tight in his grip. He slowly gathered himself as the feeling of invincibility began to fade. If these are C-rank spells… the carnage I could wreak at A-rank? He briefly thought. Not even a minute had passed, and yet he had achieved this.
Realizing he left Ossian unanswered, he quickly said, “What am I? I’m just in a hurry. Let’s go, before more take their place. They are legion, after all.”
Argrave stepped out into the central lobby, passing the sight of carnage. A strange quiet had settled over the place. As he stepped into the sight of his attacks, he felt the damage he’d caused directly—the heat beneath his feet, the icy mist in the air, the still-spasming Guardians writhing with electricity…
The Blessing of Supersession lent Argrave’s advance a sense of urgency. He was the first to rush into the central hall. Before long he was joined by Galamon and Anneliese, who kept up easily on account of being more athletic than he was. Some Guardians stopped their advance. Argrave dispatched them, using the C-rank lightning spell [Skysunder] with reckless abandon, uncaring of how deep he grew in debt to Erlebnis.
They reached the stairway that led down, and Argrave caught the wall just before it, pausing to catch his breath.
“Chest feels tight… think my cardio got worse, actually,” he huffed. He looked back, watching the armored Sentinels still rush to catch up to them. “Alright, Garm. If this doesn’t work…”
“Don’t let the thought enter your head,” Garm assured, breaking his silence from his place in Anneliese’s hands. Anneliese took the first few steps down the stairs. Argrave followed just behind, where ahead, he saw a stone door that shimmered with lights. It was circular and had no handles.
“You… have done your task,” Garm said as Anneliese stepped to the door. “I will do mine. Your presence, now, is… well, overpowering. The magic within you…” it muttered. “I can hardly bear to look at you. Just press my head to the door, sweetie,” he spoke to Anneliese.
Anneliese did so. At once, a black, flower-like pattern bloomed across the door. It slid to the side. Someone had been leaning against the other side, and they fell backwards. Galamon mercilessly dispatched the vampire before he had a chance to recover. He looked beyond, watching for more enemies.
Ossian stepped down the stairs, leading the other Stonepetal Sentinels. “Gods… it opened. The lower levels…I can’t believe…” he trailed off.
“You can’t believe, yet you came with us?” Garm questioned.
“We can celebrate at a later date. Did you forget the next part?” Argrave pressed, almost having recovered his breath. His inhalations still felt shallow, and he felt some measure of pain. He knew something was wrong but did not have time to address it.
“Right.” Ossian directed one of the spellcasters with his hand. The woman stepped forth, conjuring something, and a hunk of stone moved to block the door from sliding back in place. It would likely not be sufficient for long term, but it was only to prevent the door from moving long enough to allow the Guardians to enter.
Ossian stepped back up the stairs, watching the hallway beyond. “Plenty of Guardians coming, following the noise. We enter, lead them in, and go to this other exit you talked about.”
“Watch for falling vampires,” Argrave said glibly to disguise his own unease, then stepped into the lower levels of the headquarters of the Order of the Rose.
The lower levels had the same darkness common on the entry floor, yet here was different in a way Argrave found difficult to wrap his head around. Rather than simply being dark, it felt like light had not touched this place in a long while. It was mostly free of dust and dirt and had the same elaborate carvings as in this first floor. The hallway stretched on for a long time. Argrave hurried down it as fast as his labored body would allow.
Eventually, the hallway opened up into an open space. The room was massive, its ceiling stretching high into the air. It seemed split into halves—the front room was an administrative center, housing desks and reception areas that had long ago been repurposed to the vampire’s needs. The other half was blocked off by thick iron bars, and housed a grand library still illuminated by light even after the centuries since the Order’s fall.
“S-SENTINELS!” a shout echoed out across the room, abject terror in the voice unbefitting the vampire which it came from.
“Go left. Ward off attacks—once the Guardians get in, they’ll screen our escape, more or less,” Argrave said to Ossian. Despite his position as the Master Sentinel of the group, he did not object to Argrave’s directive, nodding in quiet agreement.
They went left. The vampire’s home soon became a veritable hive of activity as the things moved to tackle the situation. Shouts similar to the one that first echoed out filled the place as people adapted to the unforeseen occurrence. Though some vampires tried to stop them from proceeding or generally assault them, the attacks were easily enough repelled.
Argrave dared a glance backwards once they were sufficiently far from where they’d first entered. He saw the first of the Guardians enter the lower levels. True to Argrave’s prediction, they started to flood in great numbers, quickly emerging from the hallway. The vampires that had moved to deal with the Sentinels and Argrave’s party were quickly confronted by a wave of Guardians.
Argrave whipped his head back ahead, laughing slightly. He held a hand to his chest once the pain he’d felt earlier reignited. Ahead, there was another hallway.
“This is the other exit,” Argrave wheezed out.
“What?” Ossian said, having not heard him.
“The exit’s there,” Galamon finished for Argrave.
Some joy seeped into Ossian’s tone as he said, “Gods… this… this is an unparalleled…”
Argrave broke away from the group, putting his hand against the wall to support himself. He coughed, each one setting the pain in his chest afire. At the final cough, he felt the tang of iron in his mouth, and he spat out blood. Argrave stared at the redness blankly, still short of breath.
Galamon grabbed Argrave’s arm. “Veid…” he cursed. “Don’t have time for this. I’ll carry you.”
Argrave lacked the breath to protest as Galamon sheathed his sword and lifted Argrave, throwing him over his shoulder. Ossian paused, looking back.
“What is he…?”
“Just move,” Galamon pointed ahead. “Considering all he’s done, it’s only fair you take the bulk of the burden in the escape.”
Ossian looked at Argrave, then nodded, moving ahead. They entered into the hallway, where a circular stone door identical in appearance to the one they’d entered through waited. Anneliese stepped past the Sentinels, opening the door with Garm once more. Beyond, the hallway lay empty.
“Alright. Things seem calm—the bulk of the Guardians followed us. They’ll be dealing with the vampires,” Ossian narrated. “We just head back into the Menagerie.”
