-Douglas Horton

"This is… something else," John muttered, glancing out the rear windows of the van again. They were physically tinted rather than magically, to the point that even from the interior John could scarcely see out of them, but he had to try to take in the sight of the convoy moving behind them. Compared to the few vehicles they had taken to **** the Cabal stronghold before, this seemed like nothing short of a small army. Even with Sophia and Seras sitting near him, John felt almost overwhelmed.

"I will not apologize for making the decisions I deem best for the Order," Moira stated calmly as John gazed out the window for what must have been the dozenth time, "but I had my reasons, you must understand. Delivering information to you over any insecure network would be hazardous to all of our health, as well as the success of the operation itself - the Cabal could potentially intercept and retransmit any communication we currently have access to. While Tricia's advanced technology is extremely reliable, I know less than I would like of it. Too little to trust her when she says it should be inaccessible by normal mages, much less Cabal thugs."

"Trust does seem to come up a lot," John noted. He hadn't intended it so much as a barb, but Moira seemed to take it that way judging by the scowl that covered her face immediately.

"Indeed. You'll note how little I trust even my own sworn Knights - so imagine how little I trust Lady Julianna with the details of our plan!" Sophia opened her mouth to respond, but John cut her off before she could assail the Warden.

"Wait, her name is Julianna?" John noted, before shaking off that initial reaction in favor of the far more important question. "No, scratch that - she's a part of the plan, isn't she?"

"Yes," Moira agreed, though she added a sigh after, "but she does not know the full extent of our plans, and I am… not accustomed to lying. Though lately I fear it has become far more of a habit."

"So you didn't want to tell me when you got there-"

"Because she had already arrived, yes," Moira agreed, nodding. "Julianna knows that her forces are to provide an initial skirmish and distraction on the far eastern sections of Cabal territory, enough to draw as many of their soldiers as she can but retreating before they can bring their full might upon her. She also knows that we are striking at a factory of Foriian Dust located at the intersection of Roosevelt and 5th Avenue, a factory that has had a notable increase in production and activity since the beginning of this war. What she does not know is that, through the investigation at the Cabal pawn shop, we were able to trace several pieces of what was stolen from the Order. Not all of it, but a large portion.

"It seems they were foolish enough to utilize the original hiding place for their ill-gotten goods as a true storage, before they moved them out and turned it into the trap that was sprung upon you. Perhaps it was to convince us that they had been there at some point when one of our scouts spotted the heightened activity - whatever the case, we now know where to search for our missing tools and for further clues why they wanted them in the first place."

"I thought you said all that was stolen were a few Inquisitor's tools and some of the Order's pacification magics? Things like what Tricia uses. Why are you so interested in tracking those?"

"Initially, we weren't. However, the fact that they took such objects to a manufacturing site of Foriian Dust is troublesome. Despite their namesake being a massive organization, what remains of the Cabal after their fracture is little more than a street gang. To declare war on the Order, knowing what we possess, they must be planning something massive. Combined with the knowledge that they have transported magical goods adept at numbing emotions and severing the bonds between people to a place manufacturing magical residue which erases memories - sometimes permanently - and you can understand my **** concern."

"You think they're planning to brainwash someone?" John dared the question but couldn't say he particularly wanted the answer. He had the feeling he already knew it before Moira began to nod solemnly, her eyes momentarily locked to the floor.

"And the only ones who have recently arrived are John and us. So you must think that they intend to steal away and brainwash either John or us," Sophia concluded, fidgeting a little at the thought.

"Indeed… and I do not yet know which one of you, or if it is all of you, or why. As far as our intelligence suggests, the Cabal lack the magical skill to focus Foriian Dust into one of its more concentrated and potent forms. Its bare use wipes memory indiscriminately, and often randomly, meaning that the only use for it in its raw form is to entirely cleanse a person of their sense of self and history. Its most common use in such a blunt form is to create soldiers, slaves, or… worse. Combine that with magical enchantments advanced by the combined knowledge of a rogue Gorbachev and the Order to dull aggression, fear, and insubordinate emotional responses, and you have a recipe for mindless humanoids capable of neither learning nor rebellion. And when you consider their attempted association with the Albidian Society, a far more magically skilled group…"

John froze at the thought, eyes now locked on the red-haired Warden. She did not even glance up at him, her gaze somewhere else entirely. For a moment, John felt a pressure crushing down upon him as the realization of what the Cabal - such a low-level, unskilled group of thugs - were capable of doing.

"Is this… is this why Moira is the way she is? Does she live every day knowing that someone she calls a group of street thugs could steal away her friend and family, wipe away who they are? And if they can, what could a real faction of mages do?"

"Moira, I- thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me. I did not realize what we were dealing with. I appreciate you starting to trust me."

"I started to trust you a very long time ago, John Newman."

John's mental processes ground to a halt for a moment, trying to reconcile the words he was hearing with reality. Moira's eyes finally lifted from the metallic floor of the APC they were in, staring into him with such absolute severity that he couldn't bring himself to even consider that she might be lying.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"You accused me of not trusting you back at the safe house as well," Moira said, shaking her head. "I dislike some things about you, John Newman, and I disagree with a great many of your decisions, but I dare say I trust you more than most others outside the Order, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which is that the more I am around you, the more your morality invigorates me. You have a purity and innocence that none but a truly newborn mage still clings to. You-"

"If you tell me I'm too innocent for this world," John grumbled, "I'm going to punch you. Has anyone ever considered, even just once, that maybe this world is just too shitty and that I'm the normal one?"

John did his best to sound sour about it, but he would be lying to himself if he said that he was not happy to hear Moira say that she trusted him, as fucked up as her trust actually was. Did they have more of a relationship on her end than on his? Did she actually see him as a-

"Moira, this is a super awkward question now, but… are we friends?"

"I- you saved my life, John!" Moira sputtered, obviously caught unaware by the sudden inquiry. "I have tried to return that favor, though my success is questionable. It would be beyond reproachable for me to suggest that we do not hold some measure of bond. What makes you ask such a question now, of all times?"

"Prolly somethin' to do with the fact that you practic'ly told 'im that 'e was an abomination an' that 'is magic was an unholy monstrosity," Seras noted, halfway rolling her eyes.

"I- I cannot- I cannot risk humanity being endangered by unnatural creatures or replaced by an invasive species! No matter your intentions or morality, there are some things which the Lady did not ordain, and this is most certainly one of them."

Moira sounded anything but sure, yet her face was as stern and unyielding as ever. Sensing the conflict that was brewing both within and without his surroundings, John held his hands up in mutual surrender.

"That's not it. I mean, I was worried by how you treated me, but… you know my powers are game-based, Moira. You've played a few pen-and-paper style adventures. I had a quest a while ago to become your best friend. It, uh, it succeeded. Right around the time I saved your life. Admittedly kind of a big milestone in a relationship, but I was still surprised."

Moira cycled through a range of emotions as John stared at her, starting at confusion, ending in something between anger and embarrassment. The two combined to turn her cheeks as red as her hair, and Moira ended up without a response at all, merely hanging her head in her hands. John waited several moments, but she did not raise her head, nor did she respond.

"I'm… sorry?" John posed hesitatingly, grimacing. "I know that's a bit odd, but-"

"A bit?" Moira finally replied, groaning as she lifted her head. "Your abilities range from the impossible to the absurd, John Newman. First creating living, stable beings from absolute chaos - now reading into relationships well enough not only to understand them but to draw conclusions about relationships you have no part in? Confound it all, John Newman, if I did not have so much evidence you were a newborn mage, I'd have you dragged in front of my father again for being certain you were some kind of spy."

"So… was it accurate or not?"

"I- you-" Moira sputtered, caught off guard for one of the first times in her interactions with John, "you- do not mistake my fondness for your innocence for affection, John Newman! And do not mistake your quests and self-guidance for insight. You are… you are close to me, in ways that members of my Order cannot be, for the same reasons that I assume your creations cannot be close to you. My trust being as limited as it is to those who do not follow us means that I cannot relate to many others outside of the Order. Only your significance as an individual-"

"It's true, isn't it?" John asked, words carried from his lips before he could consider their impact. "I really am your best friend! I mean, I never thought about the quest or the rewards before, I kind of figured it was like a Status or something, but I'm actually-"

Moira slammed her armored fist into the wall of the van, more suddenly than with any real ****, but loudly enough to startle John into silence.

"Yes, John Newman, you are correct. You are my best friend - because I cannot currently afford to have any friends. I have soldiers, subordinates, contract mages. I have vassals, allies, enemies, sworn foes, and beings that act as warts upon the very face of humanity and decency. There are those I trust, those I do not trust, and those that I despise. None of those are people I would classify as a 'friend', someone I might entrust my deepest secrets to, or even someone I might call to my bedchambers in a moment of desire - even if I weren't a Warden of the Golden Rose.

"You are the only person not of the Order who I have even a semblance of trust for nowadays, the only warrior not completely untalented who I do not actively measure as a threat. You are the only person not to be avowed to my service who does not actively oppose me and yet who I do not expect to turn against me given the first opportunity and a suitable reward for doing so. By all those measures, John Newman, yes… you are my best friend. Our relationship may even be worthy of praise. But the title itself is far less hard-fought than I would dare admit. It seems Gaia does not hold those same reservations."

John wasn't sure how to respond. He'd suspected it, maybe known it, but to hear Moira state outright that she had no other friends and that John was the only person who had ever even given it a good shot was a bit different than to merely suspect such. The anger in Moira's voice had shifted - it was tinged now with something John had not heard often from Moira, and it pained him to hear her grieve, even if only for a moment.

While John was still thinking of how to respond to Moira being **** to admit such a thing, the Warden cleared her throat and pulled open the barrier between the passengers and driver of the APC.

"Knight Berringer, mission time is approaching. What's our ETA?"

"Three minutes, twenty-seven seconds. Right on schedule, crossing into Cabal territory shortly. We have confirmation that Julianna began her skirmish just moments ago."

"Excellent," Moira replied, shutting and latching the thick metal slide in place once again before turning her head back to John and his companions, "that means that we have a little over three minutes to prepare ourselves. The Cabal will likely have seen our convoy before we arrive but not before they have diverted many of their forces. This does not make this an easy mission by any means though, John Newman. This is no smash-and-grab or total surprise attack, like the last combat mission I took you on. This is a war."

"If the battle were easy," Sophia responded with narrow eyes, "there would be no glory in it. We do not become stronger by slaughtering the feeble. There is war in every world - if we are not prepared, we will die."

Moira smirked at that, despite her eyeing Sophia with distaste every time the harpy spoke.

"Well, I may not be thrilled about some of your abilities, John, but at least some of your creations have a bit more sense of the world than you do."

"That shouldn't make you as happy as it does," John spat bitterly. "I ask myself, not for the first time mind you, whether anyone has ever stopped to consider that perhaps it is the world that should change and not me?"

Moira went silent for a long moment, resting her head against the metallic wall of the magically-veiled APC. Her eyes gazed off into the studded roof, not breaking it away even as she spoke again.

"We are attempting to change Springfield, John Newman. There are still others in this city, such as Collide, Lady Arista's mercenaries, necromancers, and even the Forgotten Legion themselves who will continue to cause problems in the vacuum left behind by the Cabal… but make no mistake, when we win this war, it will do a great deal of good for this city. If we can hold the peace between our organizations, turn it into something lasting, this city might even be a place independent mages can come and walk about without worrying about being pressed into service under some foreign liege. One day, the Order might have its first protected city in the West.

"And… to do that, to change a single mid-sized city, the largest in a single state of a single country, out of all the countries and continents in the world, it is taking us two moderately-sized legions, a father-daughter pair from a foreign nation and a legendary clan of Slayers, and a man with abilities unheard of among the annals of history. I do not disagree with you, John Newman. I wish this world could afford your innocence. But empires have fallen to conquer the world, for better or for worse, and none have come close in over a thousand years. Who could manage it today?"

John had no answer for that. He wished he did… no, he didn't just wish. If he could, he would give anything for it - to be able to bring the Nekos around, to not have to worry about being attacked any time he went out with one of his creations, to never have to worry about things like war and slavery taking them? John didn't just wish, he prayed for that.

John sat in silence the rest of the ride, knitting his brows. He received achievements for things he did, and the menu itself often responded to his thoughts and actions. Whatever - or whoever - manifested these abilities was surely listening in. Tricia and Moira had alluded to it being Gaia quite often. If that was so...

Why did she never give him answers to questions like these?