QUEST COMPLETE: SAVE THE TOWER

Prevent the Target from unleashing devastation.

[LEVEL UP]

Select Skill Upgrade: [Command] // [Seasoned] // [[Reasoning]]

Five faces watched on as the jacket full of legendary skill vials dropped to the floor. Many of the glass bottles shattered upon impact, sending all kinds of colouring onto the purple rug. But many of those that didn’t break began to roll, some towards the benches, some through the grating where the elevator had been, some down the stairwell behind them.

When Julya’s lifeless body finally dropped, it was echoed by a loud crash echoing up the elevator shaft.

Nobody spoke. Not for a minute, at least, perhaps longer, by Sham’s count. He stared on at the shape that had been Julya, at the fresh bullet wound in the back of her head. He just hoped her death had been quick; she didn’t deserve this. Julya was a victim in all of this, perhaps more than anyone.

‘It was, Sham,’ Joy said. ‘It was quick.’

But Joy’s words did little to comfort Sham.

‘Well,’ Ros said, shattering the silence and slapping her knees while she was at it. ‘Boss ain’t gonna like that.’

‘No,’ Josiah agreed.

‘Who’s going to tell him?’ asked the timid officer, the one that Sham had so easily disarmed. The implication seemed clear; whoever it was that would tell Enoch what had happened, it wouldn’t be him.

‘All of us,’ Josiah replied, and he turned to fix his gaze on Sham. ‘You lost yourself your meat shield. And we still outnumber you. Five to two. Do I need to tell you again or are we going to have to get serious about those kneecaps?’

‘What the fuck is it about this man and kneecaps?’ Vigour pondered.

Sham glanced to Riot, who nodded back; they’d done what they’d come here to do. It was time to pay the price.

The Loopbreaker turned back to Josiah. ‘Go on, then,’ he said. ‘Take us to him. Take us to Enoch Chambers.’

The four remaining officers of Legion who were both armed and, well, alive kept their revolvers trained on Sham and Riot both, two per hostage. They kept their distance as they stepped across the grand and empty government chamber, along the purple rug to the final stairwell at the very end. There was no chance of escape now. No chance of disarming them. No chance, surely, of Sham leaving with his life.

But he might still be able to save Riot’s. He’d just need to take all the blame, make the surely furious Enoch Chambers direct all his ire onto him. Perhaps he’d be able to make out that Riot was an unwilling accomplice—that there was still hope for the Prime Minister to bring her around to his side.

Sham felt the top of his hand brush against Riot’s as they reached the far side of the chamber, the final staircase looming up ahead of them. These stairs were unlike any they’d seen in the Tower so far. They were formed of a dark wood, not native to Haven’s nearby region, their bannisters carved into intricate and beautiful patterns. The purple runner continued up the centre of the stairs, though here the rug was lined by a thin line of gold.

The two Loopbreakers stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and only a pointed cough from Ros spurred them upwards. This was it; the end of their journey, their coming face to face with the architect of the Loop. Or, if not the architect, at least the man who had seized it for whatever foul purposes.

Sham and Riot climbed the stairwell in silence, finding themselves in a large study, a man sitting behind a large desk carved from the same dark wood as the stairwell’s bannisters. This was a room that Sham recognised from Ariel’s story, and the man sitting in the cushioned chair could only be Enoch Chambers.

The Prime Minister took his time in glancing up from the document splayed out across the desk surface, which he review through half-moon spectacles. Sham was surprised to find that this was a weedy man—not the tall, head-held-high sort of man that he had imagined, but not unlike Sham himself, if a little better dressed and groomed.

The group of seven approached Enoch Chambers, only those dressed in black showing deference to him through bowed heads. Nobody spoke, and the Prime Minister kept his gaze fixed only on one man.

Sham was determined not to break first. He held the stare of Haven’s leader until the man’s vacant expression broke.

But it didn’t break into anger, as expected, instead warping into a sly grin.

‘Sham Tilner,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘I did wonder how many Loops it would be before we finally met.’

Sham narrowed his eyes. ‘Why me? What makes me so worth meeting?’

‘You mean besides being one of the only Loopers adept enough to avoid my Legion?’ Enoch Chambers replied.

‘If only he knew it was only a case of an incorrect address…’ Recollection mused.

The Prime Minister continued without giving Sham a moment to respond; this was a man who liked the sound of his own voice a little too much. Posh types were always like that, Sham was beginning to realise. ‘Well, that would be telling, would it not?’

Riot took a step forward—an action that was accompanied by another pointed cough from Ros, to indicate that her weapon was pointed squarely at her. That she would not hesitate to fire. ‘We broke your Loop,’ Riot said, staring Enoch Chambers down. ‘It’s over.’

The Prime Minister raised his eyebrows, sighed, and then rose from his chair. He ambled over to a cupboard at his rear and swung the doors open, revealing a mirror surface in front of which a dozen glamorous bottles sparkled. They were filled not with the familiar brown liquid of whisky for which Haven was known, but with a clear liquid. Gin, native to the city of Harbourage. Enoch Chambers did not offer anyone else a glass as he poured one of his own.

‘Is it?’ the Prime Minister asked. He glanced up at Josiah, his narrowing eyes posing the officer of Legion an unspoken question.

‘I don’t know about this loop, sir,’ Josiah said. ‘But the woman you wanted us to threaten but not kill, she…’

‘She’s dead,’ Sham finished. ‘Julya Emerson is dead. I killed her.’

Dread and guilt erupted in his stomach for a moment, before being quelled near instantly. ‘I’ve got you, darling…’ Joy sang.

Enoch Chambers pursed his lips, then slammed the tall glass of gin down his throat in one. But, still, there was not the anger that Sham had been looking for. This… worried him. ‘Well, that is rather disappointing, but not an entirely insurmountable problem.’ He glanced again at Josiah. ‘The vials?’

‘Smashed, sir.’

The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow. ‘Again, disappointing, but not the end of the world.’ He looked to Ros, next. ‘Will you fetch my fiancée, Miss Kestle?’

‘Is she…?’ Ros began.

‘In our bedroom. Resting. Please ask her to bring her personal supply.’

‘Her personal supply, sir?’

‘I don’t remember asking for questions, Miss Kestle,’ the Prime Minister said. ‘Please do as I say.’

As Ros hurried through a set of grand double doors at the right hand side of the study, Riot nodded towards the Prime Minister’s still open drinks cupboard. ‘Are you not going to offer us one of those? Or would you deny us one last drink before our execution?’

For the first time, Enoch Chambers smiled a wide and genuine smile. ‘Execution? Please. We do not use such… final methods.’

‘No,’ Sham said, ‘they’ll torture us first. Try to beat us into submission.’

Enoch Chambers held up a finger to Sham. ‘Only if the carrot does not work, Mr Tilner. Only then do we utilise the stick.’

‘The carrot?’ Sham asked.

Again, a finger. This time begging for patience. ‘All shall be made clear in a few moments, and I have no doubt that we will be on the same side once it is so. For now, let me provide some context. An olive branch to my new, wonderful allies.’ Enoch Chambers held out his arms to Sham and Riot, wide and in greeting.

‘You’re going to tell us what’s really going on here?’ Sham asked. ‘Cos I—’

‘Oh, my dear Sham Tilner. Of course I am. How else would I have you see things my way? How else would you understand the true threats to this great city?’

‘I see no threats to this city that aren’t standing right in front of me,’ Sham growled.

Enoch Chambers snorted gently, as though such an accusation was amusing to him. ‘I see how it might seem that way, Mr Tilner. I truly do. Though I assure you that everything I have done has been for the greater good. May I pose a question to you both?’

Sham opened his mouth to speak, but the Prime Minister was not awaiting an answer.

‘What has been the greatest gift to Haven of the last century?’ Enoch asked.

‘Whisky,’ Sham replied.

‘Democracy,’ Riot said.

Enoch Chambers waved a joyful finger in Riot’s direction. ‘Precisely! And should we not fight to preserve it? Should we not do everything in our power to ensure that we do not lose such a valuable gift?’

‘And just why, pray tell, would we lose it?’ Riot asked. But from the way she licked her lips after finishing the question, Sham could tell that the answer had already dawned upon her.

‘Queen Elmira,’ Sham answered.

Enoch Chambers smiled. ‘Elmira, yes. The “queen” label rather more debatable. You see, Mr Tilner, Miss Resnuc… We may indeed have our differences, but there is, surely, one thing we can all agree on: Haven must not fall to an unelected monarchy. Of course, my spies hear whispers. Whispers that Queen Elmira has amassed an army capable of seizing the city, of planting her own spies within Haven. And, thus, the search for Haven’s strength was born again. How do we replicate the power of the days of revolution? How do we give the everyman strength?

‘And then my spies heard of new rumours. Of a woman, in our very city, who was near to inventing the next generation of boono. Skill vials—legendary skills that could be gained in seconds. That was the strength we needed. That was our only hope of coaxing an army out of the weak and pathetic working class that forms most of our city today.’

Sham grimaced. Riot’s hand snapped to his arm, as though holding him back. She knew him well enough by now to know exactly what he was thinking.

‘There were flaws with these vials, of course,’ the Prime Minister continued. ‘She had not yet “cracked the formula”, as it were. But with my resources at her disposal, I knew she would manage it. So I sent my men to the depths of the city into which she had sunk, and I saved her. I brought her to the Tower, and I gave her my everything. This woman—my fiancée—she was the ticket to our salvation. And this year, on the 5th of Harvest, at the very second our Loop begins, she successfully created the very first skill vial.

‘The Loop itself was an accident, of course, an unintended result of these vials being an affront to the Architects, a result of them tearing up the very rulebook of our reality. But I recognise an opportunity when I see one. There would be those, like me, who would consume that Recollection vial, who would remember the Loops. And with the right encouragement—the stick, in this case, rather than the carrot—they would be beaten into submission. With every Loop this army grows. A whole church dedicated to preserving it! What better way to ensure the loyalty of an army than to make your cause synonymous with their pseudo-god?’

‘No!’ Sham found himself snapping. ‘The people would have fought. You could have told them the situation. They would have armed themselves against the invaders. They’re flawed, and they’re tired, and they’ve been beaten down all their life, but they would have fucking fought. And you know what? They would have won.’

Enoch Chambers considered Sham for a moment with an artificially blank expression. And then he laughed. Not a snicker, or a chuckle, but a hearty guffaw of the type that only rich people could really manage. ‘Do you people never learn? You—the common folk—cannot win. That is not how these stories work, not in the real world. It is those with power—be that money, fame, or simply the abilities to rip you apart, limb from limb—who will always rise to the top.’

‘No,’ Sham said. ‘That’s not true. We overthrew the monarchy. We—’

‘The monarchy?’ Enoch Chambers repeated. ‘Ha! Do you really think they were toppled by the working classes alone? No. Of course not. There will always be cities out there interested in toppling others. Interested in toppling those who grew too great, who threatened their ways of lives.’

‘I… No, that’s not—’

‘I mean to say, Mr Tilner, that your revolutionary heroes, the weaponry you armed yourself with, the strategy and direction that was oh-so organised for such disorganised rabble… That was all provided, free of charge, by our friends across the continent. By Harbourage, mostly. As I say: those with power—or, rather, those with the most power—will always rise to the top. And the person with the most power? In this situation, that would be me.’

At that moment, the doors at the side of the study opened once more. Ros appeared in them, the silhouette of a woman standing in the shadows behind her.

‘Oh, fuck,’ Vigour said.

‘Here we go…’

‘Joy, are you ready?’ Recollection asked. ‘This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. This is the moment Sham could break. Joy, you need to be ready.’

‘I’m ready,’ Joy said, and it was the first time Sham heard no positivity in her tone.

Ros stepped aside, revealing the woman behind her. Revealing the Prime Minister’s fiancée. Revealing…

The woman with the cigarette burn for a face.

No.

A woman with the most beautiful face that Sham could ever imagine.

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you love sits down at the far end of your bed. She is still, quiet for a moment. You ask her what’s wrong. She chokes on her words as she tells you: she can’t do this any more. She needs to have a life of her own. You insist that you’re not to blame, that it’s the illness, that you can’t do a damned thing about it. She tells you she knows.

‘Recollection, stop it!’ Perspicacity cried.

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you love swallows as she watches you stagger, your low energy having grown worse with every passing day. This is hurting her, you know, but you try to deny it.

‘I’m trying!’ Recollection shouted back.

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you love wears that green dress, the one you think she glows when she wears. You stand with your arm around her waist, a smile on your face so wide that it threatens the structural integrity of your cheeks. The lens on the daguerreotype snaps open, and moments later you are holding a picture you will carry, surely, for the rest of your days.

‘Recollection!’ Perspicacity roared again. ‘You need to—’

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you love says “yes”. You simply cannot imagine a moment of happiness purer than this.

‘I. Am. Trying.’ Recollection screeched. ‘Joy needs to do what she—’

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you love smiles as you tell her you’ve worked your last job. That you’re going straight. That you’re doing this for her, and you wouldn’t change a moment of it.

‘It’s too much! I can’t… I can’t stop the rush of—’

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman you’re coming to love laughs at your jokes, makes you feel like the luckiest man in the world. It doesn’t matter that the pot of tea you’re sharing is weak, bitter; all that matters to both of you is that you’re with each other.

‘Sham,’ Perspicacity said. ‘Listen to me. You need to stay with us. This… this can’t break you. You need to snap out of this. You need to—’

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

The woman smiles back, seeming to find your awkwardness charming. She thrusts a hand forward, introduces herself. ‘Hester,’ she says.

Sham gasped as the last of the memories bled from his vision, leaving him back in the Prime Minister’s study once more. As he blinked the images away, he found himself looking into the eyes of an alarmed Riot, who was gripping him gently by the arms.

‘Sham!’ she said. ‘Sham, what is it?’

Only then did Sham realise that he was having a panic attack. That he couldn’t breathe. That his head was spinning. That he wanted nothing more than to embrace the void.

‘I’m sorry, my love,’ Hester said. ‘I’m… I’m sorry.’

The Prime Minister stepped forward, that wide smile on his face once more, and he swept his hand out to grab Hester by the waist, to pull her close. ‘Sham Tilner,’ he said, ‘I give you “the carrot.”’