The History of Men

They burst into what seemed to be a sewer junction chamber or sump. Cecilia stopped dead in her tracks, frozen at the sight in front of her. Petra who was slightly in front, and to her right already had a sword drawn, her other arm was concealed beneath her cloak.

A pale-faced man in a long, high-collared coat knelt in front of a prone figure in an Eisenfelde cadet uniform; a fully activated anchor towered behind them, casting an eerie glow over them. Cecilia's stomach dropped as she recognized the cadet as Cadet Rothaermel, one of Ruprecht's vanguard members. 

There were more than a dozen other men in the chamber. Two were crouched by either side of the fallen cadet. With her heightened awareness, Cecilia could detect the presence of the divine sparks from another group clustered around a bound figure collapsed by the rear wall.

The remaining men were arrayed on either side of the anchor, their cold attention was directed at Petra and herself.

The pale-faced man slowly straightened as he rose from the ground. He handed a blood-stained dagger to the man at his right and wiped an imaginary streak of soot from the edge of the fine jacket under his coat. His eyes narrowed as he regarded them.

"Just the two of you?" he asked. His voice was dry and mildly sarcastic. "Did you leave your two other friends outside?"

The man brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and waved dismissively toward the two girls as he turned his back to them.

Half of the men began to advance on them with weapons ready. The pale-faced man raised his arms and began a chant. Magical power began to fill the room and the pressure caused Cecilia to wince.

The front row was immediately upon them. Two men tackled Petra, bringing all three tumbling to the ground.

Cecilia drew and raised her sword, but a man was already on her. She brought the pommel and her mailed fist down straight into his face, felling him. The others paused and fell back cautiously.

To her side, she saw Petra rise from the ground, her blades bloody, and her attackers sprawled motionless on the ground. The girl launched herself at the man in front of her who blocked her strike with a high guard, then staggered to the side with a blow from Petra's other blade.

Cecilia looked at the two men in front of her. Their faces were determined. They reminded her of the farmers of the geestland back home or even the workers in Eckburg.

The man to her left initiated an attack and Cecilia sprang back. She swung and struck the man's extended hand with the spine of her backsword. He cried out, dropping his weapon and clutched his hand. Cecilia followed with a powerful, but measured kick just under his ribcage with her mailed foot, causing him to crumple to the ground.

Their opponents began to regroup. Cecilia's eyes widened as she caught a clear view of the bound figure. It was Julian Geyr. Her mind began racing as she tried to sort out how to respond to the situation.

"ENOUGH!" 

The room stopped with the wizardly voice of command. Many of the men looked frozen, and Cecilia extended her arm to indicate restraint to Petra who seemed ready to take advantage of their state.

* * *

Petra stood down at Cecilia's gesture. She glanced down at the men who had attacked Cecilia. One was sprawled out, face bloodied, but alive. The other was groaning on the ground clutching a shattered hand. 

Petra could not afford to be like Cecilia. She could not allow anyone to take advantage of her. If she showed her opponents mercy, they could betray her; stab her in the back. It was unthinkable. But that was what she held dear about Cecilia. Even in their current situation, she maintained her integrity. Petra would be the one to watch Cecilia's back. To protect her from her stubbornly misplaced chivalry.

The wizard was holding up a single hand to command their attention. He tilted his head, studying Cecilia and Petra with a cold, superior look. Petra settled back on her heels, and pulled her cloak close about her, expecting a boring villainous monologue.

He had the delicate looks of a self-indulgent noble child. His stray locks were styled for maximum brooding allure. His jaw seemed to clench tightly, and a muscle ticked in his cheek as he met Petra's half-lidded gaze, bringing a faint, smug smile to her lips. 

Ignoring her, the wizard stepped forward with the dim light of the anchor behind him, smoothing the lapel of his coat with cold, exaggerated care.

"Do you have even the faintest comprehension of the logistical nightmare you are causing right now?" his tone was a blend of exhaustion and intellectual contempt. "You are entirely out of your depth, and I simply do not have the time to deal with you."

Behind him, the anchor began to pulse, while the air around it began to ripple. Was there going to be more to the monologue? He was obviously trying to stall for time. A third of his men were already down. Did he run out of words? 

Petra's attention began to wander. She saw the wings on Cecilia's helmet subtly direct themselves to the men guarding the captive at the back of the room, and turned her attention to them. She realized with shock that the captive was Julian Geyr. She could faintly detect the divine sparks of the guards, indicating to her that they were fallen heroes.  

Petra prepared herself for what was about to happen. Cecilia's definitive move would be to prioritize securing Geyr. The tension snapped as Cecilia barreled straight past the wizard and his men toward the rear of the chamber.

Moving in perfect synchronization, Petra cut down the men closest to her as they turned to stop Cecilia. She fell back to secure the exit, but was ready to enter the fray if her support was needed.

"Kill them," the wizard snapped, his voice cracking with irritation. "Don't let her get Geyr!"

Petra could tell that Cecilia was no longer holding back. Her first opponent fell before he could even react. His clothing was split open revealing the armor underneath. He staggered back as Cecilia pushed him into the men behind, and grabbed Geyr unceremoniously by his bindings. She began dragging him across the slick floor to the exit.

Petra stepped to the side to allow Cecilia to drag Geyr past her, then fell back into the maintenance tunnel, ready to turn it into a lethal bottleneck. Behind her, Cecilia was cutting the cords that bound the chancellor's son.

Across the room, she could see the wizard’s face turn cold with a bitter scowl.

He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a rune-carved wand. He tapped the anchor, causing a disorienting wave to spread through the chamber. The concrete floor shuddered violently; the air seemed filled with urgent strains of music and the hum of energy as a portal began to open, transforming the chamber into a nightmarish abyss.

* * *

The junction chamber filled with the thick, hot reek of sulfur as the first wave monsters boiled into the room, lunging forward and scanning the room with unthinking, supernatural hunger.

Balthazar Hoch waved his hands in the air, shouting to be heard above the clamor, as his horrified men shrank back against the walls of the chamber against the writhing mass of teeth and claws.

"Don't be afraid! You have all been marked so these fiends will not attack you!" 

The demonic horde flooded the room, bypassing the cowering men and swarmed straight for the exit taken by the fleeing girls. Geyr was also marked, and he had a few men stationed outside, so the recovery of his hostage was assured.

He tapped his wand against the anchor a second time, closing the portal. He sighed at the burden of being scorned by fate. Of having his grand plans of national rebirth being ruined by the petty pranks of spoiled aristocratic children trying to ruin each others' reputations.

Hoch had carefully arranged for his 'Galliener tourists' to arrive in Gardanmah in the weeks before Geyr's arrival. He used his anchor to release fiends to distract Geyr's entourage and abscond with his target. And then—and then, fate arranged for two schoolgirls who were sent on a mission to be humiliated by falling into a sewer were dropped right into the middle of his plans.

Life was unfair. It was full of regrets and pain, but it would not prevent him from stopping the corrupt, parasol-toting nobility from ruining the nation's glorious heritage. An entire swath of aristocratic leadership from the chancellor's party would be destroyed in an unfortunate, tragic incident. Their precious heroic cadets would be discredited for failing to protect their elders and patrons, much less protect themselves. The foreign Asuvanians would be blamed for hosting such an unstable dungeon. His plan was infallible.