Faye and Ailith were exhausted. They had been reacting to emergencies for over a day now. The Primalist assault on the Guild hall was over but it still meant pockets of enemy fighters were hiding throughout the town, and when groups of militia went out to scout and determine the state of the town, they often ran into the desperate Primalists.

Ailith and Faye were the Guild’s response team. The pair worked well together and with the Guardian’s abilities to protect Faye, and Faye’s newfound ability to dole out extreme forms of punishment they were effective suppression for the Primalists they received word of.

It had soon become apparent to Faye that the Guild Leader, Eanraigh, and his opponent were not fighting in the same sense that Faye recognised the idea. From the explosive, violent clashes of their initial confrontation they had now switched tactics.

Prolonged periods of silence were punctuated with loud bursts of sound and violence that shook the buildings around the town. Only the Guild itself seemed same enough to stay inside of, the others would rattle.

Taveon looked grim when Faye asked him about the fight, in the middle of her latest meal of stew — which still tasted great, but it was the fifth meal in a row that had been the same and Faye was concerned she would start to resent the amazing taste somehow.

“It is never a good sign when the direct confrontation goes poorly,” the old Schoolmaster said, muttering into his own bowl of stew.

“I thought most confrontations amongst the higher levelled were solved through… other methods?” Maggie asked, the bread she had dunked into the stew coming out sopping.

Taveon grunted and let his spoon click back into the bowl. “That depends. The Guild Leader is literally the strongest person in the town. I hesitate to say what his exact level is as they never deemed it important to tell me. But for this Primalist to be matching him enough that a direct pummelling did not work?”

Faye nodded. “That’s not good, is it?”

With a shake of his head, Taveon picked up his spoon again. “No, it is not.”

“I have no stomach for this type of fighting,” Ailith proclaimed. She gestured upwards with her spoon. “The flying around and battering each other hard enough to threaten the townsfolk was bad enough… but to hide and lurk around in whatever shadows they can find until they might be able to ambush their foe?”

She snorted.

“It’s not like they have another choice,” Maggie said. “As I said, I thought most high-level confrontations happened this way. There are many accounts of Experts that have literally flattened towns as large as Lóthaven.”

Ailith grunted. Faye was not sure what that meant she thought of these Experts’ accounts of flattening towns. Personally, Faye wondered who wrote those accounts and what their motives were. It was great propaganda for everyone lower than an Expert to believe them capable of such destruction.

In many ways, for one person to hold that much personal power it was akin to mutually assured destruction for nuclear weapons, back home.

Don’t come attack us, because we have Experts that will flatten your towns, she thought, must be a great defence.

At that very moment, a roar of sound washed over the Guild.

They all paused and looked around.

Faye’s [Mana Sense] saw that the wash of mana enveloping the area was tinged with the typical Primalist colours of virulent green and deep crimson. She had yet to see the colour the Guild Leader’s mana took.

“What type of fighter is the Guild Leader?” she asked the group.

Most of them shrugged, including Taveon, but Maggie cleared her throat.

“We can’t say. Not because we don’t know, but because it’s in the rules. The Guild Leader is the ultimate defence for the Guild in Lóthaven, and the town as a whole, as you can tell… if his capabilities were spoken of in casual, unwarded conversations…”

Faye nodded. Just like telling your neighbours that your nuclear weapons programme was about ready to launch. They would come and stop you before you could make use of it.

The cook wandered over to their table, she was smiling at everyone she passed and thanking them for their compliments, which were shouted out thick and fast. Standing next to Faye’s shoulder at the edge of the table, she smiled around at them all.

“I hope you are enjoying your food, folks.”

“Yes, thank you, it’s lovely,” Faye replied, giving the cook a warm smile in return.

“Good… good, yes…”

The cook’s words drifted off and Faye realised that the woman did not look as happy as she had first appeared. Her apron was clean, her hands wrung each other, and the cook’s eyes were sparkling with held back tears.

“Are you okay?” Faye asked. The others at the table grew quiet as they tried not to draw too much attention to the cook’s state.

Nodding brightly, and saying, “Why thank you! Yes, I’ll consider a request!”

The cook leaned in toward Faye and the others. In a voice so quiet as to be lost amongst the surrounding sound of conversation and muted merriment, she spoke.

“We are running out. Won’t last a two-day more.”

Faye blinked. She glanced at the others, checking their reactions. Ailith looked positively stricken, but Maggie simply shared a look with Faye. Taveon turned to the cook and placed a hand on hers.

“Cook, I must say I appreciate the thought. But your delicious stew is more than enough for us all! Though, I would never say no to your special dishes!”

A few of the nearby tables cheered at his words. His voice dropped, too.

“What happened? Where are the stores?”

“Gone, Schoolmaster. Scattered. Soiled. Ruined. Burned. I… I…, it’s—”

She stopped abruptly, as a few of the nearby tables stood and went to return their bowls to the counter.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your meals, there’s plenty more where that came from!”

And the cook abruptly turned and practically darted back behind the counter and into the kitchen proper.

The table shared glances, mopped up the rest of their food, and quietly left the dining hall.

“What’s going on?” Faye hissed, as they walked the Guild’s corridors.

“Sabotage,” Taveon muttered, almost too low to be heard.

“You think someone would do that?” Maggie whispered.

“If you had asked me before witnessing the cook coming over to us like that, I would have said ‘no, absolutely not’. Now, however, that seems like it is a luxury we cannot afford.”

“Trusting the people around us is not a luxury, Taveon,” Maggie said.

They all stopped when some Guilders walked past with a small smile. Faye shoved everyone along the corridors towards the training hall. It was a place she had not used in a long time but thinking about it she had been here more recently than it felt. Travelling and this endless siege elongated time somehow.

Pushing everyone through the doorway one by one, Faye shut the door and barred it. Adventurers sometimes needed to practice without worry someone would wander in accidentally as they were performing a skill.

“Alright, let’s talk,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I want to say that I am trusting all of you, which includes Arran and Gavan in absentia.”

“What was that?” Taveon said, his eyes widening. “I don’t think I have heard that language before.”

“Ah, sorry,” Faye said, waving a hand, “not important at all. Dead language. It meant ‘in their absence’. So, I’m trusting you all. You understand me?”

She looked around at the three of them, staring into their eyes.

“Of course, Faye,” Maggie said, smiling. “We trust you too…”

Faye waved a hand again. “Look, it’s… never mind. I already spoke to the Administrator about this. She’s a little more paranoid than me. But if I can’t trust you lot, then I’m well and truly screwed anyway.”

Taveon nodded. “I understand. It’s all right, really. I don’t think that a single one of us would put ourselves against you, regardless!” he added, with a chuckle. The others joined in.

“Okay,” she said, blowing out air. “The Primalists were being assisted by Black Rose assassins. Taveon, you remember those rogues and the mage we encountered?”

“Yes, I do. Did the Administrator know who they were?”

“Of a sort,” Faye replied. She started pacing up and down in the training room, without going far enough that she needed to raise her voice above the calm volume she had chosen. “A mercenary group of knives for hire, essentially. Them being here has implications the Administrator was not happy about.”

“Outside backing,” Maggie interjected. “There’s no way an out-of-the-way wilderness group like these can afford to pay a mercenary group.”

“Exactly.”

Ailith grumbled. “This stinks of politics.”

Faye pointed at Ailith. “Right, it does. Which, honestly, is somewhat comforting… in a weird way? Before, it was talk of goddesses of the forest, with evil mages sacrificing children for… what? No one knows. That woman you were arguing with yesterday, Taveon, said that they were here for food, supplies… she’s wrong.”

“Of course she’s wrong, she’s an idiot!” Taveon replied, but with Maggie’s hand on his elbow he stopped himself before getting too far into his anger.

“That aside,” Faye continued, “I don’t know the woman… but the Primalists. They’re not acting on hit-and-run tactics, here. They’re rounding up people, hurting children. This isn’t about supplies or food. It’s about terror. It’s about hurting the town.”

“Who would do that?”

Faye spun as she considered the question. Eventually, she came back around and shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you had pulled us in here to tell us you had figured it out,” Maggie said with a smile.

“I don’t have the context. There are a thousand things I’m probably missing. Context clues that pass me by, or… I don’t know, something blindingly obvious that I just don’t see because I wasn’t born here.”

“Aye, that’s not yer fault though, Faye, and you are not the only one who is able to work on this. We’re all here,” Ailith said.

“Right. So, as I was saying, the Black Rose. Outside connections. It gets worse. The Black Rose were waiting for someone before they left.”

“For whom? One of their own? They left one of their group here? Is that who targeted the food supplies?” Ailith asked.

Maggie shook her head. “No, not one of their own. It wouldn’t be a problem we keep quiet if it was.”

Faye grimaced. “They were waiting for an insider. That’s what has the Administrator so worried. She said she trusts me because I have literally no connections here, or elsewhere, to draw upon.”

Taveon let out an ‘ahh’ of realisation. “A traitor, and she does not know who to trust, other than Faye. The Administrator is under a lot of pressure. She has not dealt with a problem of this magnitude before. This latest might tip the scales too far.”

“That’s beside the point,” Faye said. “Food is now extremely scarce. If we don’t want to incite riots in those who thought they were safe here, we now have a deadline for getting control of the town once more.”

“So, what do you—”

Another roar sounded outside the Guild, so loud that they heard it clearly despite being ensconced in the magically protected training room.

Then, a voice permeated the sound.

“You. Have. Lost.”

Faye felt the blood drain from her face. It was not the voice of the Guild Leader.

They each exchanged a half glance before throwing the bar from the door and racing through the hallways. Faye was not looking forward to this spark hitting the powder keg that this Guild was becoming.

The lobby was awash with fear. The whole room, cavernous though it was, stank of sweat and worry. Faye pushed aside her own concerns as she wormed her way through the crowds.

The healing station that had been set up in the lobby took up a whole third. Blankets and screens had been set up along the edges to provide a modicum of privacy for those within.

“Gavan!” she called.

Her mage friend looked up from his work. She gestured sharply.

“We need you!”

He held up a hand and returned to his ministrations, quickly finishing up.

Faye turned to Taveon. “Old man, need you to go to the kitchen, have a look around. This distraction would be the perfect time for something else to go missing.”

“Right,” he said, and then he was away, pushing through the crowd with expediency born of panic.

“Mags, we need Guilders prepared for the worst. Militia are going to need moving if they’re hurt.” Her friend nodded and moved away, calling out for the people she knew to come to her. “Ailith, you need to play anvil. The Primalist isn’t a melee fighter from what we’ve seen but you have to wall her.”

Ailith stretched her neck and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Gavan approached them, still cleaning his hands with a clean rag.

“Faye, Ailith, nice to see you. What’s happening?”

“Have to assume the Guild Leader fell,” Ailith said. “Faye’s calling the hits, I’m walling. You’re going to have to keep us alive.”

He groaned. “Always with the healing. You two know that I have more magic than my basic healing, right?”

Faye couldn’t help but laugh at his plaintive tone. It was so at odds with the situation.

“Thanks, Gavan, I needed that.”

“Needed what? I need you both to take my class seriously. I’m a Mage, not a Healer.”

Ailith and Faye exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. People around them looked at them strangely, which only made them both laugh more. Gavan’s affronted visage was enough to send them into round three.

Eventually, he cracked a smile as well.

“Come on, you’re making us look odd to the common folk.”