The War Room.

There was little discussion after John's rather foreboding words. Instead, the five of them united and ventured through the halls of the Order's manor. John was hoping to find Etriyya first, since he had no idea where she might have wandered off to, but the task proved a trifling matter. Etriyya found him instead, stepping out from behind a statuesque mounted suit of armor as he approached an intersection of the mansion.

"...Went about as well as I thought, didn't it?" Etriyya asked solemnly, though it came out as more of a statement.

"Something like that," John admitted, shaking his head. "Tell me, though, Etriyya... I understand some of Tricia's concerns about being shuttered away, and I've seen her desperation. I know why Moira wouldn't want to go back home, with what giving up the Rose would mean. Why is it that you are so concerned over the potential move? Is it..."

John left the sentence hanging, not sure how to finish it. As much as he tried to forget what he'd **** Etriyya through for the sake of a quest, he could never forget the knowledge that he had gained from it – if only because the knowledge itself felt so cursed. Etriyya had both stated and implied the lack of contact she'd had with her family following her failure in the British Order's training program, but John couldn't think of a tactful way to address the issue that had caused their rift.

"Is it because I've been too ashamed to see my family in the better part of half a century? Yeah, something like that," Etriyya said. Although her voice was angry, it no longer held the venom it used to when she spoke to John. "Doesn't help that the Order keeps its records well – they'll know me from my old days the moment I set foot in one of their strongholds."

"Surely Moira would include your ability to rejoin the British Order in her negotiations," John reasoned. "If that's something you want, there's no way I see her leaving anyone out. Moira isn't the kind to leave someone hanging out to dry if they've done nothing to wrong her. She'd take a burden on herself in the negotiations if it meant helping someone like you."

"You've thought things through pretty well for having all this thrust on you in a day, Newman," Etriyya said, smiling almost bitterly. "But honestly... it's not about my personal hang-ups. I could make a living over there with or without the Order, and frankly I could give two shits about whether those bastards let me in or not. But... that's part of the issue; nothing I've heard about the Order has been the same as before I left.

"Even though I cut off my old contacts, I still hear things from overseas. Mostly bad things about what happened to the Order after Lord Brighton took Moira and left. I don't like a fucking bit of it, John. The Order has always been dogmatic at best; we serve the Lady herself – there isn't much room for a gray area in service to the descendents of those literally blessed by a Goddess. I..."

Etriyya paused in her words, then quickly cast her gaze to the halls around them. There were no Knights or servants anywhere that John could see down the paths, but a look of distrust fell across Etriyya's face all the same.

"Come. Let's find somewhere more private for this discussion, John... there's someone else who will likely want to join us as well."

John followed Etriyya down the halls without addressing her, but it was far from in silence.

"Master, should we be prepared for anything?" Shishun asked, slithering up alongside John when he fell behind Etriyya. "I could not see inside the room, but there was a feminine voice that sounded quite angry..."

"No, I think we're alright for now," John advised, "...but never let your guard down. That woman, that 'Lady Eristola' is likely just some overly arrogant, pampered noble or figurehead for them, but I have no idea what kind of guard or soldiers will be here guarding her. They could be securing the manor, and I don't want them eavesdropping... or interfering."

The warning was enough to keep the group's mood somber and their voices silent as they traversed the Manor's lengthy halls, though they never stumbled upon any Knights that drew Etriyya's attention or that were wearing any different attire to the rest of the Manor staff. Etriyya led them back through the building, across halls familiar and foreign to him, until they finally ended up in the sections he was most accustomed to and entered into Tricia's laboratory.

"Tricia, he's here. Are we secure?"

"No detected Barriers or listening mechanisms, technological or magical, within the immediate surroundings. Cameras indicate the nearest British Knight is around one hundred meters away from the room."

Tricia's voice was refreshing to hear again in person, even when delivered in her usual emotionless monotone. The conflicted look on her face when she glanced up at John was... less satisfactory.

"Hello... John," Tricia said, pausing only slightly as she continued to absently fiddle with the station in front of her. "Have you already met with Moira, as I expected?"

"I did... I can't say the meeting accomplished much, but at a minimum I'm starting to see at least the surface of why everyone is so concerned over this arrangement," John admitted, shaking his head. "Moira is stubborn in plenty of ways, but this new woman didn't exactly endear herself to me in our first encounter. If what you say about the dangers to you are true as well... I can't understand why Moira would be willing to do all this."

"The Order's mission is to protect the innocent," Etriyya said dully. "That means others... but it also means ourselves. Moira is doing her best to ensure that the work she has done here doesn't go completely to waste, even if all she can do is save the lives of those who fought by her side. Even though I think she'd rather die than return the Rose."

"Yeah... I get that," John muttered. Just the thought of the implications of her "giving back the Rose" had his hands clenching so tightly that his armor began to creak under the pressure. "Why is it so important to them, though? I thought the Order was supposed to have plenty of powerful Knights, Moira was always talking about how strong the Order was back in England."

"The Golden Rose is hereditary, you probably guessed that already by the fact that Moira's father was the former Warden-Lord, and her mother was before she passed it to him. Although it can take years for a Warden to come to full power, with the kind of might that Lord and Lady Brighton wielded in their heydays it is as important for the status and reputation of the Order that the Warden be present at home as it is for them to be present on the battlefield. The few times during history when the Blessing was not under the Order's control for even a few months were dark times.

"As you can imagine, this means the British Order has been very unhappy with its loss. They were quite **** to allow Lord Brighton his exile at all, but he offered them few choices – and there were few who could have stood in his way, regardless. They don't intend to repeat that mistake. They want the Blessing returned – not just to their Order, but to their control, to their men. The Rose is a powerful tool, one that can be passed to whatever bloodline they choose through arranged marriages, and that means culling out a 'problematic' branch like they now see the Brightons is nothing to them."

Etriyya took a long, slow breath. "They intend to **** Moira into an arranged marriage with one of their strongest knights. As with any Warden who takes a man into her bed, when she... consummates that union, her blessing will be passed onto him, and the Blessing will once again be under the thumb of the elders and leaders that have taken hold in the British Order. The reason they are willing to offer such generous terms isn't just the virtue of having one powerful person again, they want the Blessing under their control forever. They will marry off Moira and seal her away in a tower somewhere, until the name Brighton means nothing and the Order is 'whole' again, as they see it."

"Ugh. An arranged marriage was bad enough, now you're telling me they plan to turn the confident, headstrong Warden into a backroom trophy, all while casting her family into obscurity... I thought hte Order were supposed to be good guys."

"They belive they are. Which is true of anyone... and when you believe the ends justify the means..."

"You can do shit like forcing someone to get married against their will. I get it. But is that really something they can just do? Doesn't it go against their code, or have they always done it?" John asked disbelievingly.

"It... wasn't unheard of, though far from common, in the olden days," Etriyya admitted, sighing. "If a Warden had not yet found a man who she loved dearly enough to surrender her chastity and the Blessing to, but was injured in a grave way, or grew ill, or fell under a terrible curse, they would sometimes choose a Knight – or have one chosen for them – to take on the Blessing of the Rose so that the Order would not suffer."

"Are you defending them?" John asked, perhaps a bit too harshly. Etriyya's eyes narrowed and her jaw set as she responded.

"No, I'm trying to explain to you why something like this was even an option, and why Moira isn't reacting the same way that you are! Think, John. Moira and the Order know this is rotten, and they know it looks even worse to someone not so familiar with the Abyss or the old ways of the Order. Why do you think it is that Moira didn't ask for your aid, or even try to contact you about these matters? She knew her hand might be ****... and she knew how you would react."

"I... of course I would react with disgust at this... abhorrent idea!" John growled. "This isn't a solution. Not a workable one. I... I need to know. How strong are these Northern Ashes? How powerful are they that Moira would turn to such desperation, and how likely is it they'll target Springfield and manage to reach it?"

"It's every bit as bad as it's been made to sound, John," Tricia warned, pressing a few buttons to call over a set of drones. Each of them activated a projector on their front end, and between the two of them a surprisingly detailed projection of the United States and Canada popped up, with several important details like the border and Springfield labeled in red. A massive, red stain poured over most of the center of Canada and its northern reaches, covering a huge stretch of the Canadian wilderness.

"This was the territory of the so-called 'Northern Ashes' for most of the last fifty years. They were thought to be a mostly reclusive group of Necromancers trying to avoid scrutiny of their practices where no one would bother to accost them; most of the organizations like the Order that would trifle with necromancers merely on principle either lacked the manpower or the will to venture to such a remote area. Himiko holds some territory in the Pacific Northwest that comes close to their borders, but they have stayed well away from infringing on her territory or causing any offense. Now, however..."

The mass of red began to seep south, until it filled in the remaining southern bits of central and eastern Canada. It slowed as it approached the border, but never quite stopped, always ebbing further and further out.

"This is the pattern of expansion they began nearly three years ago. It didn't catch our attention at first, no more than any of the other major players do whenever they decide to conquer territory. They didn't cross the border into the United States at first, but when they came close we began to monitor them to the extent of our abilities. It wasn't difficult; mercenaries and other travellers carried stories with them, for the right price. Then... things became more severe around six months ago."

"What happened then?"

"They attacked one of the Great Plains alliances," Etriyya said. A large green shading fell over most of the upper midwest, and large swaths of the states to the west of Springfield until it ran into a black that covered the entire Western Coast, likely Himiko's domain. The sheer size of the domains on the map awed John; aside from a small part of the midwest and a region encompassing most of Arizona and New Mexico, it looked like around six factions controlled almost all of the United States.

"The Great Plains alliances, as their name suggests, aren't so much one cohesive faction as they are a coalition of mages and their circles that banded together around a hundred and fifty years ago – mostly to oppose the concentrated push of Himiko Nakamura. They consist of almost a thousand guilds of mages, ranging in size from ten to a hundred mages each. There are internal political disputes, guilds come and go, combine and disband, but they have several regional leaders and one leader who is usually referred to as the 'Emperor' of the plains. They will band together and fight against any outsider before ever raising even a harsh word against each other; any guild that turns its back on their allies is swiftly cut down and eradicated once the primary conflict has been dealt with," Tricia said. She sounded almost as if she were reading from a textbook, but her eyes never left the map.

"We are quite familiar with them; they expand mostly through recruiting. We were hoping that if anyone approached us, it might be them... they are a relatively peaceful organization; if the Order was to ally themselves with one of the major players in North America, they were... the least objectionable," Etriyya pointed out.

"If things are so dire, I'm guessing that the Great Plains guilds aren't doing so well?" John mused, staring at the map. Tricia offered a sigh... and the red spread of the Northern Ashes finally crossed the border into the US. Far faster than it had been expanding until then, actually.

"What we thought were a group of Necromancers seeking isolation from scrutiny turned out to be... far worse. Until recently their expansion had been done through small, individual turf wars with the scattered smaller guilds of our northern neighbors. They had never displayed the level of magical skill or talent that they used against the guilds of the Great Plains," Tricia said quietly.

"The Necromancers like the fools you ran into at the Springfield mall were necrophiliacs and obsessives, fools with damaged minds and no talent. The Northern Ashes were more advanced... but even we didn't know the extent of it. They struck over one thousand square miles of territory and conquered it in a single day. What's worse is how they did it. Flesh golems, **** knights, reanimated mage corpses, skeletons with mana engravings etched into the bones and geared out with enchanted armor strong enough to withstand powerful blows..."

Etriyya's fists clenched so hard that the metal of the table began to creak. Her face was tight and her eyes were somber as she looked up from the spreading red on the table and into John's eyes.

"They slaughtered everyone that dwelled in that region overnight, anyone not strong or fast enough to escape them. Then, as they fortified their lines, they started to resurrect those they slaughtered, and turned the fallen Great Plains mages against their former allies. Arcane Wraiths... reanimated mages, enslaved even in ****. Their casting ability is diminished but still potent, enough to pose a threat to another mage, and should you hesitate for even a moment to cut down what was once your friend, they will tear you apart with no remorse."

"That's... how many undead soldiers do they have now?" John whispered as the last ebbs of the red finally stopped. It looked as if the Northern ashes had taken nearly a third of most of the upper states of the midwest, farther in some places. The only thing they seemed to be avoiding was the western coast.

"Uncountable numbers of lower-level skeletons and zombies. Hundreds of their higher-level undead, the golems and **** knights that take time and skill to craft. Perhaps as many as two dozen Bound Souls, mages who have extracted their life essence from their body and bound it inside of a foreign object they guard ferociously. You might be more familiar with them as Liches, though their appearances are somewhat exaggerated in your games."

"So Moira isn't overreacting at all, is she?" John said glumly, leaning on his elbows over the table. "This is beyond the Albidians."

"This is beyond anything we've seen in the Americas in over a hundred years," Etriyya confirmed, shaking her head sadly. "The Great Plains have called their alliance into full effect and slowed their advance, but they haven't managed to stop it entirely, and there's no signs that anyone else will have better results. The mages of the Great Lakes have voluntarily fallen back to the east, fortifying only their most valuable territory.

"With the chaotic nature of this part of the country – the fractured guilds that we've relied on so long to leave us mostly unchallenged while building our strength – there is nothing standing in their way once the Great Plains guilds fall. They will push all the way to the deep South, or further if there is still no one strong enough to stop them. We estimate that even if the Great Plains guilds fight to the last man, we have around six months before they would arrive in Springfield. If the loyalty of some guilds falters, or if they decide to flee as we are when defense becomes untenable, it may be even less."

"What kind of mage could stop them? What about Lord Brighton, back in his prime?" John asked, trying to be hopeful. "I still have no idea how strong he actually is."

"The Lady's Blessings are particularly effective against the undead and other unholy abominations that defy life. It's possible that if Lord Brighton were back in his prime and he allied with the Great Plains guilds, he could halt their advance, but it would be a bloody and costly battle. If the British Order were here as well, in their entirety, we could hold them off alone – even drive them back, eventually. But that is manpower they cannot mobilize, and will not for our sake. Not even with Moira returning the blessing. Alone? With the men we have now? Even Lord Brighton would only slow them for as long as he stood. Eventually through numbers and strength, they would tire him, though the cost to their armies would not be insignificant."

Etriyya said it so plainly, so analytically, that John knew she wasn't exaggerating. He could almost see it – Lord Brighton, standing in the Manor's court, as thousands upon thousands of undead poured in, breaking and shattering apart before his might... only for an endless horde to slowly wear the mighty man down. The last John had checked, he hadn't even been able to perceive Lord Brighton's level, and yet... even if he were stronger, even if he were still the Warden-Lord... who could stand against that? To compete with that kind of army, to overcome it...

"John, this isn't a matter of power, it's a matter of numbers, and that is a necromancer's greatest strength. Every warrior they slay is another member added to their ranks in due time. There's no one powerful enough to deal with the number of enemies we're talking about here."

"No, that's where you're wrong," John said, his voice quiet but certain.

"John, I know your abilities allow you fast growth, but even you cannot have improved that much in a year. You're brave, but don't be foolish," Tricia said. "Even if you kept up your most fervent pace of improvement during my monitoring of your growth – your most dedicated training – you would be miles behind Lord Brighton's peak."

Etriyya grinned ruefully. "If you have improved that much, I'll gladly resign my Knighthood now, because we hardly need an Order with-"

"No, not me," John said, leaning forward. He pointed to the west coast – the massive black patch of territory that had stood untouched, that even the crimson of the Northern Ashes dared not tread upon.

"Her."