The Old City

0.74: Long Lost

Seneca strolled through the bloodstained rubble. The battle had been worse than he'd imagined.

His infuriated soldiers had ripped apart this small town and its defenders—proper soldiers under the crown of Magnar—had abandoned it early in the night. But that hadn't stopped his men from pillaging and lighting the place afire.

He stood transfixed by a boy's burning shoe and was surprised that he didn't feel anything. He had won.

And that was what mattered.

Outside the First Ring Headquarters of the Enforcers.

This was impossible. Arkades couldn't be here. He'd died, along with all the others, because of Seneca's ineptitude. This was obviously a trick, but who could have performed it?

"Why the Hell are you here, soldier?"

Arkades looked spooked. His eyes were narrowed like he was trying to solve a particularly obnoxious riddle, except Seneca had always been the master of riddles, not he. He'd drawn his blade, a wicked saber with a deep red line running up the center of its steel. It was a familiar weapon, one Seneca himself had swung a handful of times in training. Arkades's hand had been steady then.

But now it was shaking.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Arkades demanded.

"You died at the Golyan Plateau," Seneca said, ignoring him. "The mudslide. The fire."

Arkades's breath caught. "That was the bloodiest day I have ever seen. We lost most of the platoon that day, sir—"

"Don't call me 'sir,' soldier. We aren't in the army anymore. Hell, I was never even your official commandin' officer."

"All due respect, sir, but you are the reason I made it out of that Hellhole. Your plans were the only thing that kept our sorry group off death's door. We lasted longer than we should have, and even when I was captured and taken to one of their prisoners of war camps, I used the things you taught me to keep us alive. So, if I want to throw some respect your way, I will call you 'sir' as much as I please. Sir."

Us...Arkades isn't the only one who survived?

Seneca's heart began to beat faster, pounding like thunder in his head. The world began to come into sharper focus. "Who else made it?"

"Gods, sir. Warrington is in the Second with me. Last I heard, Prax and Dahra are both outside the city. Perhaps a few others."

Seneca grinned. "Four of you..." he whispered. "Four of you assholes actually made it."

"Sir, did you think we'd all died back then? Surely the scouts would have sensed that some of us made it. Yes, a great many good men died that day...but not all of us."

"There may have been more of us, sir. I am not sure."

"Four of you is more than I'd ever dreamed of seein'." Seneca broke out into a raucous laughter. "You must bring Warrington down to the First Ring one of these days. He can slum it for a few hours."

"Sir, now that I know you are alive, I think you will be seeing more of both of us."

They were interrupted by shrieking from across the pavilion. The soldiers had continued their march and trampled over a mother who was huddled over her child, desperately trying to protect him.

"Why aren't you with that platoon?" Seneca asked.

"They needed scouts along the route. I volunteered."

"Doesn't seem like a particularly excitin' job."

"Actually, I have already had enough excitement for the day. Why did you say we were being dense? I saw what the Black Phoenix did to those Enforcers. They are definitely a threat."

Seneca shook his head. "We have all been played by someone much better at this game than me. Black Phoenix is a thorn, but they are not a threat."

"Then who is?"

"Have you heard of the Crimson Lotus?" Arkades nodded. "It's run by the most dangerous man in the First Ring, Timoleon. You might recall he was my commandin' officer."

"Timoleon is a hero," Arkades protested. "That is what everyone in the Second thinks. He is the reason we held the Golyan Plateau and Prakas."

"Him?" Seneca replied, disbelief bubbling to the top of his voice. "If I hadn't come up with the strategies on both battlefields, we would have been overrun by the second day."

"Seneca, Timoleon has been granted special privileges to travel to the Upper Rings. I know about Crimson Lotus, but they've been deemed a necessary evil."

"A necessary evil...one that is bringin' Magnarian soldiers into the city. What is 'necessary' about that?"

Arkades looked at him with growing concern. "We heard that the Black Phoenix had done that."

"Who did you hear that from?"

"Timoleon..."

"Arkades, you have to work with me here. You know I wouldn't lie about this. I have sacrificed as much as any man for this city. You have to stop those soldiers before they make a horrible mistake."

Arkades stared over the building's ledge. The squad was nearly out of sight. "Isn't eradicating the Black Phoenix a good thing? Even if Timoleon's report is biased, they are by all accounts a violent gang."

"And they're a counterbalance. They've kept Crimson Lotus in check for the last several years. If you take them out, then Timoleon will have free reign over the First. He'll smuggle in more soldiers than any of us can deal with."

Arkades clenched his jaw and thought. After a few moments, he said, "You never led me astray, sir. I do not believe you How am I supposed to stop them, sir?"

That's a good question.

"We can figure that out on the way. For now, we need to catch up to that squad. I will tell my people what we're about to do."

"Your people?" Arkades asked, already turning to leave.

Seneca nodded. "I'll introduce you to them one day."

Did you follow all that, Banjo? Seneca asked.

Marcus is already on his way to meet you. He thinks this Arkades could be a great ally.

I agree. He was a good man when I knew him. In fact, him being here gives me an idea. Do you know where Marcus is?

I was hopin' you'd ask...

He relayed the information to Seneca, who began to smile as they leapt across the rooftops.

"I know what we're going to do," Seneca said aloud. "We have to give those soldiers something bigger to worry about than Black Phoenix."