The Old City

0.73: Reinforcements

"I know a slaughter when I see one," Timoleon said.

"The battle hasn't even happened yet," Seneca argued.

"The signs are all around us. The men are tired and frustrated. They're ravenous. Only blood will sate them."

"We can stop them. We don't have to be savages."

Timoleon looked at him with sad resignation. He thought to say something, then changed his mind. "If you can stop them, do so. But do not risk the mission. Win first. Save the others later."

Outside the First Ring Headquarters of the Enforcers.

Seneca had insisted on coming to the Enforcers' headquarters, despite Angelica and Marcus's protestations. His wounds complained and he rubbed at his bandages, which thankfully had stopped leaking a few days earlier. They could still kill him if he wasn't careful, but he didn't plan to get into any more fights just yet.

He'd have liked to give Banjo this assignment, but after Marcus's report, they couldn't trust it with the novice Sensory mage. Warwick—they'd learned the name of the man who'd tried to follow Marcus—would be more than capable of finding Banjo. The boy had become indispensable these last few weeks, and they couldn't afford to lose him if he was caught.

There was a subtle pattern to the headquarters, if you paid attention.

An hour after sunup, the higher-ranking Enforcers stumbled in from nights with their families or drinking. These were not the same ones who patrolled. They were organized. Efficient. Powerful. The ones who arrived in the morning were the ones Seneca hoped to avoid.

Midday was the busiest time. Those with the morning shifts dispersed to find lunch, while afternoon shifters began to trickle in as well. It was during this time that Seneca had noticed something strange about the inflow and outflow: There were far more Enforcers entering the building than there should have been.

Yes, they all wore the same light blue of the First Ring, but many in the crowd carried themselves higher—not the way anyone actually born in the First Ring might have carried himself.

They'd escalated their findings to the Upper Rings, and the Upper Rings had deemed the threat worthy of reallocating some of their elite Enforcers to the First. Seneca caught a handful of B-class mages walking into the building, certainly more than he would have expected. They should be able to stop the invasion, but they'd also be able to squash the gangs if given the mandate and opportunity. It was a risk they'd had to take.

Good or bad though, whatever Ryke had said had worked. They were getting reinforcements.

Seneca was glad to have the man off of his plate. It had been an ordeal to return to his apartment every day and have to feed their prisoner. When Seneca had left in the mornings, he'd always worried that the man would escape, and he'd be revealed as an accessory to kidnapping. His Sealing charms weren't flawless. If Ryke had been a little craftier, a little better of a mage, he could have broken them.

Any updates? Came Banjo's voice, echoing in his mind from a mile away. On the other side of the connection, he could feel Marcus lingering. He was listening too, but too .

A lot of Upper Ringers have come in today. They'll stay in the barracks inside the building, so there could be more. It's enough to make a run on any of the gangs.

Suddenly the main doors to the Enforcers' headquarters flew open. Seneca heard the marching before he saw the Enforcers. Thunderous feet. A chant to keep them in line.

Dozens of Enforcers spewed out of the building. They formed up in ranks and walked to the north.

Get everybody ready, Seneca said. The Enforcers are movin' out.

Where are they headed?

I hope they know where a few Magnarian cells are. Otherwise, it looks like they are about to attack Black Phoenix again.

When the Hell are they gonna figure out that Black Phoenix isn't the threat? Marcus asked.

The Treehouse had been preparing for this for days. Mika, Angelica, and Ryster had stocked up on food and medical supplies, while Banjo, Kovan, and Graymark continued to find members in the grimiest pubs.

They didn't need to engage in this part of the fight. Not yet, at least. Seneca had decided they needed to see how the battle went before jumping in.

Looking at these Enforcers, he couldn't help but find them an odd group. Seneca had never seen them so well-ordered, so polished.

They took a hard right, marching in perfect unison around the corner. Those steps were too perfect, too well-synced. Enforcers didn't march like that...

Those aren't Enforcers, he realized. Those are soldiers!

The government had finally decided to take proper action. They were going to obliterate the invaders and burn them out of the First Ring. He needed to tell Banjo what was—

"You shouldn't spy on us."

Seneca froze as a dagger appeared at his throat. He didn't dare move as it dug softly into his flesh. He hadn't noticed the man sneak up behind him. The man's voice was deep and harsh, not what he'd expected from an Upper Ringer.

"I'm not spyin' on anyone, friend. I'm just curious."

"You've been here since sunup. You actually hid yourself decently well. Our scouts missed you. Luckily, I'm better than they are."

"Why aren't you in the procession?" Seneca asked.

"The fundamental basis of strategy: Never show all your cards."

The fundamental basis of strategy? Seneca thought. I know that phrase.

"Who do you march toward?"

"Why? Do you want to go report to your little friends?"

"I want to make sure you are fightin' the right enemy."

"We know our enemy. This gang, Black Phoenix, has gotten so unruly that we can't even—"

"You are so fuckin' dense. You don't know a damn thing about the situation here. You just sauntered into our home, thinkin' you can burn away part of the city like a disease, when you don't even know what part is infected."

Seneca closed his eyes and turned, feeling the blade scrape against his neck but hoping the man would let up.

"Seneca?" said the man, his voice melting from gruff to something softer, something familiar. Seneca opened his eyes and stared at his confronter, disbelief flooding over him. He recognized this man.

"Arkades?"