Of Idle Thoughts and Looming Threats

“That was fast,” John muttered under his breath, looking over at the aging butler.

Despite how quietly he thought he’d said it, Reginald seemed to have heard it clearly.

“The Lord-Protector had finished his last meeting a quarter hour ago,” he explained, stepping to one side to hold the door open. “I believe that he chose to wait for our arrival, rather than begin another.”

The Gamer nodded at that, grabbing the basket as he stood. Across from him, Ela and Moira also got up, with the former quickly stepping away from the couch to give the latter room to move.

“I hope he has not been waiting for long,” Moira said, grabbing the padded shirt from where it was folded next to her. Pausing for a moment, she glanced around between John and his girlfriend, then down to the table in front of her. “Would you both mind stepping out for a moment so I can put my armor back on?”

John blinked twice, cheeks darkening ever so slightly. “Oh, uh, yeah. No problem.”

He and Ela quickly stepped out of the room and into the hall, where Reginald closed the door behind them. Once more the crimson magic flowed over the frame, sealing the small library off from the rest of the manor. The butler crossed his arms behind his back, moving next to the door to wait in silence.

For a moment, The Gamer glanced over at the older man, wondering if it would be courteous to try and make small talk with him, but Reginald’s exterior seemed impervious enough to keep him away. Instead, he looked to Ela, and gestured to a nearby window. She nodded, and the pair wandered over to where he’d been looking.

’I didn’t realize how much warmer that room was than these hallways,’ The Gamer mentally lamented, goosebumps running down his arms as he gazed out into the garden. He ran a warm hand up his bicep, shivering involuntarily.

The Bookworm Knight put her hand over his for just a moment as she came to stand next to him, following his eyes out to a fountain in the spacious yard behind the manor. “Are you cold?”

“Just a little.” He chuckled. “Maybe I got more used to the phoenix’s warmth than I thought.”

“Perhaps they turned the temperature down because of how many people are here,” Ela speculated, leaning on the wall next to him. “Moira did say that she was getting hot in her armor.”

“Could also just be warmer in Lord Brighton’s office,” John said, sending a sideways glance down to the basket in his hand. “Hey, little guy, you wanna play space heater again for a bit?”

He wouldn’t really have considered stuffing the sphere back into his inventory now that he had some idea that it wasn’t good for it, but he was definitely willing to pull the swaddled orb into his arms to cuddle its warmth. “Anyway, what do you make of this, so far? You seemed to have some idea that something was going on, yeah?”

“Well, there was too much going on yesterday for me to really think about it,” she said, brows furrowed in consideration, “but I do remember being caught off guard by their equipment. I had expected only light enchantments or mundane firearms, not the properly crafted gear they had. It would make sense for our assailants to have been supplied by a more powerful ****.”

The blonde sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “There are many who would want the Warden dead. It could be anyone from gangs across the country to nations across the world.”

“I wonder if they already know?” John asked, to nobody in particular.

“You do not think that Moira would have told us?” Ela responded to his question with another.

He shrugged, looking back out into the garden. “Maybe she was worried about her father’s permission to share. Technically, neither of us are Golden Rose personnel at this point, right?”

“That… is fair,” Ela replied. “We can ask Lord Brighton, then, once we are in his office.”

The Gamer nodded, and the pair settled into a familiar silence to wait.

Carefully, John brought the egg basket up to sit on the windowsill, resting the hand that had been carrying it upon the warm orb within. He could feel a small pit beginning to form in his stomach, familiar pangs of anxiety shooting through his gut.

He didn’t get much time to stew on that, though, as Moira emerged from the room behind him. Besides having no helmet, she was now clad in her full set of silver steel armor, all polished to a borderline blinding gleam. Beyond that, it was clearly a very well-forged, sleek looking set, which gave her quite the impressive visage.

Immediately, he wondered what rarity the suit was and what stats it would have. ’Heavy plate, right? She’s a paladin.

’It doesn’t look gigantic or anything, but it could be some fancy magic metal or something, like mithril,’ The Gamer speculated, thinking back to the last time he’d tried rolling her “class” in an MMO. ’Maybe some defense or HP boosts? Wait… do enchantments work like that? My stuff has those numerical stats, but I shouldn’t take that as a given for everyone.’

He leaned backwards, his train of thought totally runaway. ’Real life could, theoretically, operate on some kind of “plus one, plus two” system like D&D. I suppose it’s more likely to be something that’s at least a little different than anything I’d know from a game. Could be some overlap, though.’

“...OK?” Moira asked, her voice raised just enough to pierce his focus.

Blinking rapidly, The Gamer suddenly became aware of the world around him again, mid-conversation.

“Oh, yes,” Ela responded, holding a hand up to cover the smile on her lips. “He’s fine. He does that sometimes.”

“I- Oh, I’m so sorry,” John stammered. “I got completely distracted wondering about things. I space out when I do that, sometimes.”

In the time he’d been in his own head, Moira had walked over from the doorway, standing next to Ela in front of him. They both were looking at him now, with varying levels of amusement. Moira had one eye raised in question as she looked at him, though, in stark contrast to the normal disapproval he was used to from seeing her around Ashcroft admonishing students, she was smiling in amusement. Ela, for her part, was fighting to hold in her giggles.

“How much did I miss?” John asked, looking between them.

“Not much,” Moira said, putting a hand on her hip. “I was apologizing for making you two wait.”

“Uh… Call us even?” He shrugged, chuckling nervously.

The Warden shook her head as a laugh finally escaped Ela’s lips. John couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of his own in kind, the tension within him disappearing in an instant. It was good to remember that he could relax, at least a little bit.

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Moira conceded, still smiling. “We should not keep my father waiting any longer though. Reginald?”

“Of course, ma’am.” The butler nodded in a half-bow, gesturing for the group to follow as he turned sharply and started down the corridor.

Moira fell into step just behind him, with John and Ela close behind her. The Warden’s pristine armor echoed softly off the carpet - a perfect metronome to accompany their short journey. The lack of heft behind her footfalls confused John for a second. The armor looked far heavier than it sounded, though he then realized that he hadn’t considered utility enchantments to help with the armor’s weight - that wasn’t much of an issue in video games, really.

A small touch at his side caught his attention, as Ela leaned in to whisper, “What were you thinking about?”

“Uh, enchantments. I was just wondering what the magic armor of a real life paladin does,” he answered, trying not to get too loud. “My gear has magic effects, sure, but they’re all ‘game-y,’ for lack of a better word. Like, what would ‘plus one strength’ even mean for you? Is there even a ‘normal’ equivalent to something like that?”

“Hmm…” the Bookworm Knight hummed, placing a finger curiously on her chin. “There are certainly enchantments that increase one’s physical strength, though I am confident that they do not work like how you are describing your own equipment.”

“If we get time, would you be willing to help me test that, later?”

“Of course.” Ela smiled, and the two settled in for the rest of the walk.

Lord Brighton’s office had been quite significantly redecorated since they’d been there, less than twenty-four hours earlier. A dozen extra seats had been moved into the room, though most were now pushed to the sides. Half of the bookshelves that had lined the walls were gone and the rest rearranged, making room for the front table to be pushed back. The table itself was entirely clear now, the world map that had been on it before missing.

John wasn’t sure if that was because it had been used for some other purpose, or if the maps previously laid out on it were now not meant to be seen. Despite all the changes, everything in the study was still immaculately clean, almost unnervingly pristine given all that was going on elsewhere.

The Lord-Protector himself sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, the golden-oranges of the sun shining through the tall windows behind him. He turned his stony gaze up from a pile of paperwork, softening as he saw his daughter enter, along with the allies-turned-friends she’d made the previous day.

Reginald stood off to the side of the door, allowing the trio to pass him on their way in. Moira smiled warmly at her father and made her way to his side. She paused for a moment as she passed him, whispering her thanks for the break. Meanwhile, John and Ela took a pair of seats next to each other in front of the Lord-Protector’s desk, nodding to him respectfully.

Lord Brighton raised one curious eyebrow at the basket The Gamer was carrying, which John quickly responded to by uncovering the egg within again. Once he’d seen it, the older man nodded and moved on.

“Knight Grzmot, John Newman,” Lord Brighton addressed them each in turn, “I hope you both had a restful evening, after what you went through yesterday.”

“Yes sir,” the blonde knight answered, glancing over at The Gamer, who had simply nodded. “A nice evening yesterday… and a much better morning today.”

John smiled at that, hoping his face didn’t offer too traitorous of a blush.

“Very good,” the Lord-Protector replied, either unaware or willing to overlook any strangeness around the younger man. “I do apologize for the wait, though I am sure that you both understand why we are so busy today.”

“Yeah, uh, Moira was telling us at least some of the stuff that’s been going on,” The Gamer replied, glad to have a topic to focus on. “Seems like a lot’s happened.”

Lord Brighton nodded, shifting around one of the files on his desk. “Indeed. The attack yesterday has drawn many eyes to Springfield, for both good and ill. How much has Moira explained to you already?”

“Most of the basics, uh, I think,” John answered, absentmindedly chewing his lip for a second as he thought back over the earlier conversation. “Information about the ambush is already spreading, though the commonly accepted story is that I was just a bystander - Moira and Ela were the only ones fighting.

”She also said that the gangsters were likely supplied by someone else… though, uh, we didn’t get a chance to ask if the Order already knows who it was.”

“Hmm… That seems a reasonable summary,” the Lord-Protector said, his voice a low rumble. “I do not believe my daughter could have answered that question though. The most recent reports came in after she departed our earlier meeting.”

“I-” Moira stopped herself, the faintest hints of red dancing across her cheeks. “Apologies, father.”

“I would have called you back if I thought it was necessary,” Lord Brighton said, turning to reassure her. Once she’d nodded, he returned his gaze to the pair in front of him. “Now. I would be willing to share what we know with you, on the condition that such information does not leave these walls.”

“Yeah. Absolutely,” The Gamer assented. “I mean, I don’t really know what I’d do with that information anyway, but it would be nice to know who was trying to kill us.”

“It is prudent to know who your enemies are,” the older man replied, though John could still see the careful consideration behind his eyes. He shifted his eyes ever so slightly to the side, so that he could catch his daughter’s attention. “Moira. What do you think?”

The Warden blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. “What? What do you mean?”

“What would you do?” Lord Brighton asked again, the deep baritone of his voice echoing around the room as he spoke even more loudly. “You should know them better than I. Were this decision entirely yours to make, would you tell them?”

John raised an eyebrow, glancing over to Ela. The blonde shrugged almost imperceptibly.

“I would.” The Warden’s reply was confident, her voice bringing The Gamer’s thoughts back to the present moment. “I would not be alive without them. I trust them… and it is only fair that they know who did this.”

For a brief moment, John thought he saw a smile on the Lord-Protector’s face.

“Very well,” the older man said. “This is what we know…”

The Lord-Protector leaned forward on his desk, gesturing for Moira to step around him. She did so quickly, taking a seat on the other side of Ela from John, ready to hear her father’s explanation.

“Not all of your assailants yesterday were willing to fight to the **** once I arrived. We took as many alive as we could, and some have traded what they know for leniency,” Lord Brighton began, lacing his hands together on his desk. “They had been given doses of demon blood to take as an unholy sacrament, dramatically enhancing their magical capabilities.”

“Demon blood..?” John muttered, brow furrowing in thought. ’I guess I’ve heard sicker things in D&D campaigns…’

“Indeed.” The older man’s voice stopped The Gamer’s train of thoughts before it went too far. “It is a common practice among the demon cults of Europe as a means of empowering lesser Abyssals for war. That is not the only trace of demon involvement either.

“Our own agents have worked without rest through the night, tracking down every other loose thread they could, from the manufacturer of the arms the gangsters had, to the remnant traces of mana in the barrier over Ashcroft, to the origin of the phoenix.”

Reflexively, John placed a hand on the egg as he heard that.

“The crystal used to enslave the creature was the key,” Lord Brighton continued. “The black magic within matched our records for only one group, formerly known as the Chorus of the Hellstorm.”

Ela tensed. Visibly. John turned, offering a look of concern.

“Are we sure, Father?” Moira said, leaning forward.

“Yes. They once tried using similarly monstrous methods on captured Order knights. Once we’d identified the magic, we compared the enchantments on their weapons with those we still have captured from decades prior. A perfect match. ”

“Um… Sorry, but who?” The Gamer’s voice shakily interjected during the pause in their exchange. “I don’t know if I’ve seen that name in any of my reading at all.”

“Right. I should be mindful of how new you are, still.” The Lord-Protector nodded. “The Chorus of the Hellstorm was one of the original demon cults that united to wage war against the Order nearly a century ago - worshippers of an archdemon who could bend the sky to his will.

“Decades ago, they succeeded in summoning him to our world by sacrificing most of their ranks as a blood tithe. It was Moira’s late mother who stopped him.” The redhead perked up at that mention, but said nothing as her father continued. “At the height of her power as the Shield Warden, she led a months-long siege against what remained of their number. Eventually, she faced him in single combat and won, banishing him back to hell.

“Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, would have died, had she not stopped him there.” The Lord-Protector paused there, exhaling uncharacteristically heavily, and even John could see the weight suddenly settling on his shoulders. “Unfortunately, even that victory was not absolute. Though she destroyed the majority of the cult, three of their priestesses escaped, each bearing a child sired by their demon god.”

That thought put terrible images in The Gamer’s head. During his short study on the Order, he’d read at least a little about the still ongoing wars in Europe - and about the demon cults that had caused them - but he had no idea of the context. What really were demons in the Abyss? Were they like he’d seen in games? How would a world-threatening entity like that have affected the mundane world?

John shook his head. ’Always more questions…’

“Did the Order ever find them?” Ela asked, the sing-song of her voice almost unnervingly still as she spoke.

“No.” Lord Brighton shook his head. “With the war against the remaining cults still ongoing, and the Warden still injured from her fight with the archdemon, they disappeared into the fringes of the Abyss.”

“Are we sure that they survived?” the blonde asked, cautiously. “Could they not have been caught up in the fighting already?”

“At least one survived to adulthood.” The Lord-Protector leaned back in his chair, a memory flashing behind his eyes. “More than a decade ago, during my own time as Warden-Lord, a small company of soldiers that I was patrolling with was ambushed by a group of assassins led by a half-demon who wielded lightning. He was clearly inexperienced in battle, but exceptionally powerful nonetheless. They slaughtered my men, though I did eventually best them, and they fled, vanishing again.

“I am certain now that was one of them, come to test his strength against my own… and I suspect that this, too, was one further attempt at vengeance.”

“Why send gangsters, if he was strong enough to challenge you?” Moira wondered aloud, looking to her father.

“A calculated risk. If someone with that much power and demonic taint entered the city, even our weaker, longer range scouting wards would have been alerted. Assuming that this is the same assailant, he was probably hoping that the element of surprise would be enough.”

“The **** of a Warden likely would have been enough to restore much of their lost status as a major player in the Abyss,” Moira mused, her voice low enough that John could barely hear it, “and they wouldn’t have had to risk any of their own martial strength to do it.”

“Exactly,” Lord Brighton affirmed, again allowing himself to smile at his daughter.

A moment passed in silence, as everyone processed what they’d heard.

“Doesn’t this mean they’ve lost now, at least?” John asked, hopefully. “You know they’re out there, trying to do this, so you can plan for it. Even if it was a tough fight before, there’s two of you now, with the Blessing, right?”

“John, that’s…” Moira paused, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “That is not how the Blessing works.”

The Gamer blushed. “I- oh. I thought I read that it was inherited.”

“It- it is, but that is only half the story,” the Warden explained, her cheeks tinged slightly pink. “It is true that my father passed it to me, but he did not keep it, not fully.”

“I am not as strong as I once was, and it may take years for Moira to reach that measure as well,” the Lord-Protector said. “Our adversaries here may even have been waiting exactly for that - for the echoes of my own Blessing to begin to fade - before they made their move.”

“Does the Order have a plan if they come in **** now?” Ela asked, concerned.

“That… is the question of the morning, Knight Grzmot.”

“What…” John’s voice was smaller. Softer. Nervous. “What if I could change the math on all that?”

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