Driven to Desperation

"Who the hell are you?" John asked the woman, partly out of reflex. He quirked an eyebrow at her as shades of red flashed across her face and her dark eyebrows knitted together.

"I will not be disrespected in this manner," the woman spat, fuming. "I am the head of the Order of the Golden Rose's British chapter, and you will show me the deference and submission that I am entitled to!"

"Ah... so that's who she is. Fuck," John thought, almost wishing he hadn't opened his mouth... not that she didn't deserve it.

"John, you shouldn't have- you aren't supposed to be here! Certainly not right now," Moira said, a mixture of shock and her more classic frustration fighting for dominance in her expression. She certainly hadn't mastered her poker face in the year that John had been gone.

"Do you often allow your subordinates to waltz in and interrupt your meetings like this?" the raven-haired woman across from Moira noted, her eyes still focused upon John and filled with nothing but wrath. "I'm starting to understand why maintaining your own safety has become such an issue."

"Forgive his incompetence," Moira emphasized, her teeth clenching as she spoke. "This servant has not yet learned his place, it seems. I will discipline him swiftly so that we may continue the negotiations uninterrupted."

Moira stood from her chair and closed the distance between John and herself in moments. Her gaze was so angry that it even kept John silent as she gripped his arm and **** him outside.

"Don't be too long," the other woman called, just before the door shut behind them. "My Knights want to begin preparations tonight; things like this take time, you know."

The door slammed behind them almost ominously, and as soon as it had – before John could say anything, even before he could glance over at the rest of his party standing nearby – Moira pulled him into a Barrier. Even as the world warped around them, Moira put her hands around John's collar and pushed him into the wall so violently that she shattered the Barrier version of the Manor tiles.

A year ago, it might have even hurt him.

"John Newman, you insufferable..." Moira began, then sputtered out, her lips still moving as if she was fighting in her own mind for exactly what to say to him. "Must you ensure that every action you take is as frustrating as it can be, must you... why are you here?! Why now, and why jeopardize my men and my command after I have been pushed to the very brink of my sanity?!"

"I..." John thought about telling Moira about what he'd been told, but he still didn't fully understand the implications of it himself, and alerting Moira to Tricia and Etriyya's concerns would not bode well for either of them.

"I heard that you needed help. That you needed me. So... here I am, I guess."

"Just... like that?" Moira said, actually giggling a little, though in a very bittersweet way. "You think I need you now? I needed you to aid us and not risk your life foolishly against the Albidians a year ago, storming entire fortifications alone. I needed you eight months ago when an entire wing of mercenaries from the Great Lakes was hired to **** our Manor, I needed you three months ago when these bastards of the Northern Ashes first started pushing into the United States so that we could make alliances and bargain for security from this invasion. The last thing I need right now is for you to storm in here, shoot your mouth off to our best hope of survival, and fuck things up for us when we're at our most ****."

John stood there with his mouth half-open for an instant, not sure what to say. It wasn't Moira's words that bothered him, or even really the way that she said it. No, what bothered John was the fear that he saw in her eyes – something he rarely saw on the Warden, and when he did, it often meant something terrible.

"Moira, I know I've been gone for a while," John said quietly. "I'm sorry. I've been... dealing with things at my own pace. It's not a fast pace either. But I heard that you were in a lot of trouble, and that there was a big danger to the Order. These... Northern Ashes must be a real threat to have you on the edge like this."

"John, you've been gone for a year, and I do not have the time to catch you up on the absolute litany of things that you just underestimated!" Moira hissed, at last releasing John's collar and allowing him to fall to the ground again. Instead, she grasped his shoulders and gave him a look that was almost pleading.

"You cannot... you cannot begin to understand what this last year has thrust upon me, upon all of the Order. These Northern Ashes lack the subtlety and the subterfuge of the Albidians, but they are a proper army in themselves. Dozens, if not hundreds, of necromancers, commanding hundreds of constructs and thousands of mobile corpses... and they are hellbent on conquering this territory. Not us, not the Order, not even you and your abilities. We're not the target – we're just a speed bump on their steady press south. They may well take the entire Great Plains area, if not all of the United States."

"We've overcome a lot together Moira," John said quietly but seriously. "I know I've been gone for a while... and I'll admit, I spent a lot of time wallowing, and a little time getting my own personal ****. But the rest of it I've been preparing, and I'm stronger than you remember. I promise. Whatever this is, whatever deal you're trying to strike, everyone is really worried, Moira. I don't want you doing something that you can't undo, something everyone is so terrified of for some reason, just in the name of safety. These necromancers can be stopped. We'll find a way."

"John, you don't understand!" Moira said, her voice breaking as her grip tightened on his shoulders. "This isn't something that you can overcome as a single man. The kind of effort that this would take, the manpower, the logistics, the raw magical power... we don't have that level of power, or infrastructure. It would be a challenge for even the British Order to hold their lines from across the ocean. It would take one of the Six Deities to hold their own here."

"I seem to recall you having quite a bit of difficulty with the Albidians as well," John noted, raising an eyebrow. "But together, we were able to defeat their main base, and even alone I could-"

"John Newman, listen to me and listen well!"

Moira's words shook even the walls, but despite the volume and clear severity of her tone, there was more fear than anger as she pinned him to the wall again. Her hands hung shakily on his shoulders, and there was an air of resignation despite the resolution of her words.

"This... this is not something we can compete against. The Moon Clan is preparing to move south. The Forgotten Legion is already preparing to march, either to claim new territory or to become a sort of nomadic mercenary band. We will be reuniting with the British Order and I will be returning to the UK... John, there is a place there for you, if you want it. If you... if you want to still have a place in this world. We can take care of your mother too, to ensure that she is not left unprotected when we are gone. I will add you to our negotiations, make certain that Lady Eristola knows you are not to be-"

"Moira, I'm not leaving," John said, almost in disbelief at what he was hearing. "Springfield is my home. I'm not running away from this."

"The magnitude of a threat like this... it's the way of the Abyss, John. Clustered and radical segments of the map like Springfield where small organizations like ours can exist unmolested don't exist for long. It's unfortunate it's such a hostile organization that is striking, one that even the Legion could not exist alongside... but it's beyond lucky that it took this long for someone to threaten us at all."

"Moira, I don't-"

"I have to do what is right for my Knights, my Order, my responsibilities, John. No matter how... distasteful I may find it. I can't **** you to join me. I can't make you save yourself, John. No matter how much I wish I could."

Moira strode back toward the door, and the Barrier faded around her as she did so. She seemed resigned in a way that hurt John's very soul, not only because of her refusal to maintain her usual determination, but because of how she handled John himself. Moira had never been one to back down from a confrontation, never one to surrender her moral beliefs to another... she had once insisted John use his abilities to make an army for her, that she might raise the Order to greatness on the backs of mindless, soulless Purified creations. Moira had been willing to fight and die for her convictions. How far had she fallen to give up on even convincing him to follow her after only a single conversation?

"How long can you give me?"John asked, just before Moira's hand touched the door. "How long until you leave?"

Moira glanced over her shoulder with her fingers hanging over the doorknob. "Lady Eristola's elite Knights and hired Fatweavers will be preparing to make the journey here beginning tonight. To ensure full security and control so that there is no jeopardy to the Rose will take time, but... a month is the most I can guarantee you, John."

"Then give me a month,"John pleaded. "One month to prove that I can protect you - that I can protect Springfield."

"John, there's no way you can do that,” Moira said. "Even with the British Order on our side, the casualties from this kind of conflict would be immense if we tried to hold them here. This is the largest army to push into the United States since the technomancers from Brazil were **** out and took over the southeastern coastal lands. The only group in their path that might be able to stop them-"

"Just promise me that if you think I can protect you, you'll stay, Moira. Just... promise me that if you really think I can stop them, if I can save the Order without you leaving, you'll stay. You'll fight by my side. And we'll save everyone together."

"John, there is no-"

Moira stopped mid-sentence and sighed. The look she gave John was a reassuring one, but something about it chilled his very soul. It was a look of resignation, not hope – a look of acceptance that John didn't quite understand.

"I promise, John," Moira said, smiling sadly. "If you can convince me that you can win a war, I'll stay."

Moira turned without giving John a chance to respond, heading back into the meeting room. John stared at the door until it closed, unsure what else to do.

"Father, what happened in that Barrier? Moira seems more... subdued than normal."

"I, uh... I'm not sure," John said slowly. Something about the look that Moira gave him shook his convictions more than he wanted to admit.

"What do we do now?" Lerianna asked, uneasily bouncing on the pads of her feet. John turned to face the women, mind already working.

"We're going to go find Tricia and Etriyya. They'll know the most about these people. I need an accurate assessment of their strength. I need to know... I need to know how **** the situation is, and how fucked we are. They'll have the answers we need, since Moira isn't likely to be much more help."

"What if they tell us we're fucked?" Lerianna asked bluntly. John let a scowl cross his face.