The Second Archon War, Carmen Dei 18 (Patreon)

Beta'd and edited by the Grand Cogitator, Dr_Feelgood, Philosophysics, and October Daye. 

Carmen Dei 18: Song of Storms

The Feisty Ferret was jam-packed once more, and Leon bustled about, smiling and serving drinks to the happy couples, most of them gay men, but with a fair number of ladies as well. There were even a few straights here, once a rare occurrence, now actually not uncommon. Leon had been suspicious at first, but apparently, the Feisty Ferret had a reputation as the “home of Barbatos,” and to Leon’s mild surprise that was a religion that was gaining in popularity.

Gunter stood at the door, though there wasn’t much bouncing involved these days. Instead, he was talking to a young man who was serving in the Bundeswehr, swapping old war stories. Shaking his head fondly, Leon smiled and went back to work, serving drinks and telling old stories of his own. He had a lot more energy these days, fueled by his Electro Vision, and it didn’t hurt that he could charge his phone on the fly now too.

The night was flying by, with everyone enjoying life and chatting. A typical Wednesday night at the Feisty Ferret.

Until the south wall exploded.

One moment, Leon was laughing and serving up drinks, the next, a flash of light and sound that left him breathless and bleeding on the floor, his ears ringing, glasses broken, and a drink cabinet rushing him, broken glass piercing his flesh. Dust and smoke filled the air, and he couldn’t really see for a few moments.

Then the lightning roared, and Leon surged up, his body crackling with power as his wounds knitted shut. He whirled about, desperate to help, only to see Gunter pinned to the floor by half a dozen blades, blood pooling around him.

“NO!” Leon screamed, his eyes going blurry with tears as he ran forward, only for another blade to come flashing out of the smoke, slamming into Leon’s leg. He spun about, going down hard, the pain washing over him. He tried to pull more electro in to heal, but he was already near his limit, and the power had gone out, leaving his ambient sources scarce.

He could hear coughing, moans of pain, and sobs for help, but all ceased making sense to Leon. Boots stomped into his view, and his eyes trailed up, before his lips peeled back in a snarl. “You!”

Walter von Solf, the Crimson Lotus, and head of the Gesellschaft, looked down on Leon with a sneer. He bent over, and Leon tried to fight back, but he was too weak, too injured to manage much. With a wrench, Walter seized Leon’s Vision, ripping it off of the pendant Leon had ordered and causing him to cry out in pain. His vision blurred and faded, his head falling back to the ground as his abilities faded from him.

“Take him and any survivors. We will need hostages,” Walter ordered. “Then burn this abomination to the ground.”

The boots stomped away, and Leon felt tears run down his face as rough hands seized him and bore him up.

Venti…Barbatos…where are you? We need you…

Far away, in Amsterdam, Venti opened his eyes, a snarl of rage on his face. Outside, the wind began to blow, and the building rattled as the lights flickered. Capri missed a note, and Naomi’s drums fell silent as the crowd went from excited and cheering to suddenly quiet and nervous.

“I’m very sorry,” Venti said quietly, turning towards the door. “We’re not going to be finishing the set.”

“Venti?” Capri asked, her tone suddenly fearful. “What has-”

“Barbatos,” Venti responded as he strode forward. “The time of judgment is at hand.”

Naomi and Capri exchanged horrified looks, and Capri hastily babbled something to the crowd, but Venti wasn’t listening. Winds ripped open the fire door, and the alarms Venti knew would sound began to wail as he spread his wings and stepped out into the growing storm. He lifted up into the air, staring to the southeast, listening to what the winds were bringing him.

“I’m sorry, Leon, Gunter. I didn’t hear this one coming. I should have been paying better attention. They’d gone quiet, I had hoped…” Venti breathed out a long sigh, his face still set in a frown.

“This is still a matter for mortals to settle,” he sighed, shaking his head, forcing himself to calm, for the winds whipping about him to quiet. He still floated high above the city, looking down below him, lost in thought for a few moments.

“I will not become a tyrant,” he said finally, looking up towards the distant tragedy. “That is anathema to what I am.”

He lowered down to the street, where he found a panicked Capri and Naomi hastily loading the van.

“Venti, Barbatos, what’s happened?!” Naomi cried, running towards him, her face pale and drawn.

“I’m afraid…” Venti swallowed and forced himself to continue. “The Feisty Ferret has been attacked. Gunter is dead, along with a lot of other people. Leon is hurt badly, but he’s alive, for now.”

“What?! How?! Who-” Naomi cut herself off, and her own expression grew furious, a small windstorm whipping about her as her hands clenched into fists. “The Gesellschaft.”

“What?! What did those fuckers do- nevermind, tell me later, are we taking the van?!” Capri demanded, springing over, electro arcing over her body as she looked from Naomi to Venti.

“Yes,” Venti said, striding towards the van. “The Gesellschaft seems to have set a trap for me. They wish to draw me out.”

“What!? Are you serious!? Oh fuck, where?!” Capri gasped, jumping into the driver's seat as Naomi scrambled into the back.

Venti took his own seat, leaning back, forcing himself to take a calming breath. “Munich.”

“Are… are you going to let them?” Naomi asked, her tone worried.

Venti smiled, and there was no warmth or humor in the expression. “Oh yes. They have sown the wind. Now, they shall reap the whirlwind.”

The van started, and Venti nodded to Naomi. “Call the Knights. All of them. We fly to war.”

As Naomi began to make the heartbreaking calls and Capri slammed on the gas, Venti leaned forward, the grim smile still on his face. He was no tyrant. He would not call judgment from the heavens like the cruel whims of Celestia.

So it was a good thing he’s so carefully assembled a force of mortals to check this threat.

Onward, soldiers of freedom.

The sun's rays stretched over the desert sands, the shadows of the scrub brush standing out starkly. The sands and sparse plants were flecked with frost, the air itself chill, though that wouldn’t last long into the daylight. Out here in White Sands, New Mexico the late November nights were frigid, and the breath of the observers misted before them as they looked out from blast slits in their bunkers.

A siren began to wail, and those still present on the surface hastened for cover. This was the US Army’s largest munitions testing range, though this day, it wouldn’t be missiles or artillery shells raining down.

Instead, it was something far more destructive.

A long man hovered high over the sands, high up in the pale blue sky, only a few narrow wisps of cloud overhead as the sun painted the white sands orange and red. The siren finally trailed off, and the man pointed his hands downward.

Great beams of green-white light flashed from his hands, striking the desert floor and flashing great sheets of the sands to glass. The assault kept up for several minutes, with a variety of beams carving trenches and blasting craters into the marred earth. Some were wider than a man, others no bigger than the circumference of a finger. The sheer amount of firepower that Legend produced on his own was greater than an entire battalion of howitzers, or a missile battery unleashing its full might. It was awe inspiring in its sheer destructive majesty.

And deeply concerning to Alexandria as she watched from the sidelines, binoculars pressed to her eyes as she observed.

“They’re still the wrong color,” she muttered, and Doctor Mother grunted her agreement from beside her, though the Doctor was hunkered down in a trench, while Alexandria was watching, headless of the potential for shrapnel or debris to hit her. A direct shot from Legend could hurt her, or, well, it used to be able to do so, but a bit of superheated sand would at worst ruin her jacket.

“Yield’s off,” Doctor Mother said with a shake of her head, scrawling something in a notepad. “Not a horrible amount, but our readings are indicating his power output has decreased by between 8-10%. That’s not good.”

After exactly 15 minutes of continuous output, Legend began to flag. After another 10 minutes, he dropped down, then flew back over to where Alexandria was waiting. He landed at the edge of the trench, breathing hard, his face and bodysuit slick with sweat despite the now barely above freezing temperatures.

“Well? How was it?” he asked, grinning.

“How do you feel?” Doctor Mother asked, standing up and clicking her pen, eyes on her notepad.

“Honestly? Fantastic!” Legend grinned and stood up, flexing his muscles. “I haven’t felt this good in ages! Bit worn out, but I slept well last night, ate a big breakfast… give me a few minutes to rest, and I can get back out there and do it again.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Doctor Mother declared, shaking her head and turning away. “We’ll debrief later.”

Legend frowned after her, then turned to Alexandria, a boyish grin on his face. “Well, if that’s all, I know a good dinner in Albuquerque. Race you there?”

“Sure,” Alexandria agreed, and started her stopwatch. She pushed it as hard as she could, knowing that normally, Legend could accelerate faster than her, and in the long term, outpace her as well.

This time, Legend was lagging behind, unable to keep up from the word go. A shimmering barrier of energy formed around him, a sort of wedge shape that cut through the air and protected Legend as they flew.

They landed only bare minutes later, Legend having changed in flight to a casual pair of sweatpants and sweater, Alexandria pulling on a hoodie and glasses that operated on the Clark Kent Principle. You didn’t look for Alexandria or Director Costa Brown with messy hair in a rumpled old hoodie and cheap glasses, especially not if she was slouching slightly in her seat.

They sat down for the traditional big American Breakfast, which surprised Alexandria slightly. Keith wasn’t David, always worrying about appropriate nutritional intake and grinding every moment of the day, but he was health conscious and tried to eat right along with his partner. Now, he was ordering pancakes, bacon, and eggs, putting real cream into his coffee, and enjoying it with gusto. There was none of the usual stiffness or weariness that her friend usually carried with him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Keith joked, taking a napkin to dab at his chin with a grin.

Slowly, Alexandria shook her head. “No, it’s just… you’re not normally this cheery. But ever since you got back from Germany…”

“I know,” Keith said, setting down his knife and fork. He frowned, looking at the palms of his hands. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s like a lot of the stress in my life just… evaporated. Like there was this monkey on my back, always driving me forward, never letting me rest. But ever since I met Barbatos… it’s been washed away, Becky! It’s incredible!”

“You sound like someone who just found religion,” Alexandria said, setting down her own utensils and eyeing Keith uncertainly. An alarm bell was going off in her head, one she couldn’t quite silence, and she didn’t know why.

“I don’t know, maybe I did? I’m not certain,” Keith said, shaking his head and setting his hands down. He met Alexandria’s eyes. “What I do know is this: I’ve not felt this happy in a decade. Hell, even Arthur’s commented that I’m more relaxed at home.”

“Keith, we haven’t crunched all the numbers yet, but… your output has gone down, and by a significant margin,” Alexandria said quietly. “You’re slower too. You used to always beat me in a race, but you barely kept up on the way here.”

He only shrugged, picking up his knife and fork again. “It’s much easier to control though. I don’t have to fight my powers. It feels more… natural. Like it’s become a part of me now. Maybe I’m just getting old, too. Perhaps powers just weaken with age.”

“That’s exactly the opposite of what our research indicates, and you know it,” Alexandria said with a shake of her head. “Keith… I’m worried about you.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “You’re worried that I’m happy, Becky? And before you ask, I would gladly trade a bit of power for what I’ve gained in the past couple of weeks.”

“And what if that bit of power was the difference between saving the world, and our extinction?” Alexandria asked quietly.

“I don’t think we need to worry about that as much as we used to. We’re not alone any more,” Keith said with a shrug.

That earned him a scowl from Alexandria, though she quickly schooled her face to neutrality. Was Keith the victim of some sort of Master based powers? What had Venti done, exactly? From what Keith had reported, and from their current activities, something incredibly drastic had been done to Night and Fog, to the point that their powers were virtually unrecognizable and they were entirely different people. It could be a total alteration of personality, but then again…

Keith’s phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket, frowning at it. “That’s weird. What time even is it in Germany? Mid afternoon or something, right?”

“Who is it?” Alexandria asked, sitting up straight.

“Cookie,” Keith said, then put the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up, Cookie? I-”

Keith’s face went pale and drawn, and he slowly sat up, his eyes darting back and forth. “Oh God. No, I hadn’t heard, when… last night? Oh my God. Oh, Cookie, I’m so sorry, I- what? He’s doing what?!”

“Keith?” Alexandria asked, the alarms in her head now screaming at her that something was very wrong.

“I’ll be there. I’ll see if I can get some of my team members to come, but I’ll be there, I promise,” Keith swore. “You tell Venti… well. You tell him I think I’m starting to understand what Freedom is. And what it means to fight for it. Right. No more than an hour.” Then Keith hung up the phone, setting it down on the table and looking sick.

“Well?” Alexandria asked, knowing she wasn’t going to like the news.

“The Gesellschaft just attacked two of Venti’s friends. Vision Holders. They ran a gay bar, and… well. The nazi fucks hit the bar on a busy Friday night. Gunter’s dead, along with a lot of other people. Leon and several others were kidnapped: they hit multiple known Knights at the same time. They have over a dozen hostages, some Knights, some civilians,” Keith explained, his tone grim.

“That’s awful, but, Keith, it’s not-”

“It IS my business!” Keith snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. “Dammit, Becky, are we heroes, or are we just pretending!?”

“Will you let me finish? The Protectorate cannot become involved in international affairs. That’s not the plan, not how we work, you know that! We intervene only when invited, and unless the Meisters, the official cape branch of the German government ask for our assistance-”

“I just got a call from the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. She’s asking for help, and I’m going to give it,” Legend said, standing up. “And as your friend, I’m asking for your help too, Alex. The others as well.”

She stood as well. “And as the Director, I’m telling you, stand down. The international situation with capes is delicate, and we-”

“I went to the Feisty Ferret,” Keith said quietly, but his tone was filled with enough conviction that Alexandria trailed off. “I liked Leon and Gunter. I’d call them friends. The Gesellschaft are evil, Director. And I became a hero to fight evil. That’s enough for me.”

“Keith! You can’t just-” Alexandria said, extending her arm as he pulled out his wallet, tossing some cash onto the table.

“I’m taking a sabbatical. I might be out of the office for a week or two,” Legend stated, turning and striding towards the door.

Alexandria was there before he was, barring his way. “Keith! You’re not acting rationally, you need to stop and assess the situation! Venti is dangerous, and we don’t fully understand the-”

“Rebecca. I’m only going to ask once. I’ll tolerate you not helping in this situation. I understand your reasoning. I get it. But I will not tolerate you standing in the way of what’s right. Now are you going to stand aside, or are we going to have a problem?” Legend asked quietly.

Something screamed at Alexandria to fight. To assert her dominance, to demand that Legend either submit to her authority, or have it out with him right here, right now. Anger and adrenaline surged through her, and she could feel her body gearing up for conflict.

But Keith just… stood there. Serene. Trusting. As if he knew she would do the right thing. She thought back to when she’d put the Kill Order out on Raiden, when she’d distrusted a change so much she was blind to the potential it held.

She stepped aside, and ignored that voice. “Kick some Nazi ass for me. I’ll see if I can expedite the process to get more boots on the ground.”

Keith nodded, giving her a small smile, and put a hand on her shoulder as he brushed past her out the door. Then he rocketed off into the air, turning towards the East.

Alexandria watched him go, and felt a pang. Part of her wanted to go with him. Part of her still wanted to put her boot on his throat. And part of her… part of her was deeply frightened of what this meant for the future. Both for the world, the Protectorate, and her friend.

It was coming on to late evening, and the Dandelion’s Breeze was abuzz with activity, despite nominally being closed for the evening. Guards had been posted around the perimeter, and they were universally rather intimidating parahumans. No one was being allowed in unless they were able to give the password, which had been whispered into their ears upon the wind.

Within, dozens of people waited, nearly all of them in cape costumes, and all of them girded for battle. Some of the figures were easily recognizable, from Hospitalar in his full armor, his helmet resting on his knee, face exposed to the world, to Capri and Rächerin talking, both women armed with massive swords and stern expressions on their faces.

The owner, Franz, bustled about, serving up drinks and food to the assembled knights, his wait staff hurrying about themselves, dressed in tabards with the symbol of Barbatos on it. People were still trickling in, though nearly all the key players had already assembled.

High up in the oak tree, amidst the branches, the mournful tones of a lyre played, as Venti looked down on the assembled Knights of Favonius. Naomi sat beneath the tree, a cup in her hands, looking about nervously. This wasn’t like what they’d done before. They’d had confrontations with the Gesellschaft, there had even been what might be called battles, but nothing like this. Ever since Bremen two weeks ago, the Gesellschaft had been quiet, and she had been hoping they’d been dealt a lethal blow there.

Clearly, she had been wrong. And now, people were dead because of it.

There was a sudden flash, and a purple eye formed in the rear corner of the Dandelion's Breeze’s grounds. A moment later, a horizontal slash formed in the air, and then a doorway opened, revealing an endless storm. A woman dressed in black robes with a red tengu mask stepped forward on silent slippers, a bow on her back, and a short sword at her side.

Standing, Naomi hastened over as the portal winked shut, Itul turning and running over as well. Venti beat them both there, floating down from the tree.

Only, it wasn’t Venti. The being hovering in the air a foot off the ground on luminous green wings had a terrible, glowing face, and green eyes that swirled with inner maelstroms.

This was Barbatos. And he was not veiling himself this day. Just looking at him filled Naomi with a sense of awe.

It seemed to be one that Sara shared, and the ninja knelt before the Lord of Anemo.

“The Raiden Shogun sends her greetings, Archon. She will not trespass upon your lands, but she sends this humble servant as a gesture of support and good will,” Sara said, one fist planted on the ground, her head lowered in respect.

Rise, Tengu. Your bow is welcome here. Go now to your friends, and give them what comfort you can. I have told Beelzebul I am grateful for her aid.

The voice that spoke didn’t echo in Naomi’s ears. It resounded in her mind, and within her soul. They were not words, so much as notes plucked upon the strings of her very being.

“Thank you, Lord Barbatos. If you require additional blades, this one is authorized to send for them,” Sara said, standing, but not meeting the eyes of the being above her. They were too terrible for a mortal to do so for long.

They are not needed. This is a matter for the Knights of these lands, not the Shuumatsuban. As the friend and lover of one of my knights, your involvement is allowed.

“Understood. I will await your commands,” Sara agreed, rising to her feet, even as Barbatos flew back up to perch up in the oaktree again. She turned around, only to let out a gasp as Itul wrapped her in a big bear hug.

“It’s OK,” he said stoically. “We’ll get those bastards.”

“Yes,” Sara managed, her voice slightly muffled. She managed to look up, and reached out a black gloved hand to wipe the tears that were trickling down Itul’s cheeks. “But I think it is you who need comforting, not I.”

“Yeah, I, it’s just…” Itul broke down weeping, and Sara wrapped her arms around the big brute, stroking his cheek. “They were just such good dudes! Why wasn’t I there?! I know it was FNM, but, but, I should have been there! I could have helped…”

Cookie was there a few moments later, rubbing Itul’s back in commiseration. When he finally calmed down, she gave Sara a hug, even pulling down her ninja mask. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to us.”

“I am glad to do so at your summons, Grandmaster,” Sara said seriously, giving Cookie a formal bow when they separated.

“Will you people stop doing that!? Just because I organized this meet up when Naomi called me doesn’t make me a Grandmaster!” Cookie snapped.

“It is the traditional name for the head of a Knightly order,” Hospitallar pointed out from the table he was sitting at. “It fits you. Grandmaster Cookie Shinobi.”

At the words, Cookie blushed and hastily put her mask back on, glancing at Sara sideways. “Uh, sorry, I just, you know, I’m a bit of a weeb, so…”

“I understand completely. It is a fitting name for you. I too am an otaku, and it is no longer the mark of shame it was before her Excellency arrived,” Sara declared proudly. Then she blushed and looked to the ground. “Um, mostly. My parents… well, never mind. What task is at hand?”

“We’re waiting on him, I guess,” Cookie said, nodding up to the tree. “Basically everyone is here, except for one guy I’m not sure will show, but, well, come on. Have a drink and some food. You’ll need it.”

Naomi watched the other go, then called upon the winds as Venti had taught her. Ignoring the looks some of the others were giving her, she rose up on the wind, catching a hold of the branches, and then pulling herself up, until she was sitting just below Barbatos. She sat for a few moments, listening to him play. It was a song to make the soul weep, and she did shed a few tears.

Still, after she collected herself, she blew her nose into a tissue, then looked up, managing to meet those terrible eyes that looked solemnly down at her. “How are you holding up?”

It is not the first time I have lost friends, nor the first time my own laxity has led to tragedy. Still. I mourn their loss, and will carry it with me.

The voice was one of melancholy, but not of despair.

“Why didn’t you, you know… see it coming? Stop it?” Naomi asked, voicing a question she had been struggling with all day.

I’m not omniscient, Naomi. Nor am I omnipresent, though I can do a reasonable facsimile if I concentrate. And, well… my Aspect is Freedom. Mortals must be free to act as they choose. I… had held out hope that a few more would repent and turn aside from their path of destruction.

“So… you were trying to show them mercy?” Naomi asked, feeling a surge of anger that she tried to tamp down.

I was. And I erred in doing so. But know this, Naomi: I will always err on the side of Freedom. I am loath to act and deny humanity its autonomy.

“But… you’re going to act now?” Naomi asked cautiously.

Barbatos gave her a sad smile, not quite answering, simply continuing to play. Not quite a dirge, but… still mournful. Naomi sat in the tree for a few more minutes, then looked up at him again. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

Barbatos cocked his head to one side, then turned and looked to the west. Naomi did as well, and for a few seconds, saw nothing. Then a great light, moving against the fading light on the horizon, came into view. It moved impossibly quickly, and after only a minute or so, Naomi could tell what it was.

“Legend,” she gasped. She looked up at Venti, her eyes wide. “Legend is coming!? The Americans sent the Elite of the Protectorate?!”

Barbatos only gave her a knowing smile, then his lyre vanished in a gust of wind, and he stood up, flapping his wings. He extended a hand to Naomi, and she took it, even as Barbatos flapped his wings and they went soaring up into the evening sky.

Below them in the city, the street lights were already coming on, and above them, the stars were coming out. Venti gazed up at the growing dark, a wistful smile on his face.

It’s different, being able to look up and see real stars. I wonder, why has this Sustainer made his ceiling invisible? Is it to make his trap all the more cunning? Blind arrogance? Or simply that he does not care.

Before Naomi could even begin to try to fathom what that meant, Legend arrived in a blaze of light and power. Initially, he was slightly above Barbatos, but he quickly lowered himself down so that he was on the same level as Naomi, who was floating a good half meter below his wing.

“Sorry it took so long, I’m slower than I used to be, and I tried to get a few others to come,” Legend said, panting slightly, and wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead. “I’m afraid it’s just me though. Orders from the top were that I’m not officially here, but, well, screw them. I’m here. What’s happening here is wrong, and well…”

You wish to pay penance?

Legend lowered his gaze, looking pained and contrite. “I… yes. How much do you know?”

Enough. So, you are not here as an agent of Cauldron?

Legend looked up, shocked, but winced and couldn’t hold Barbatos’ gaze. “I… no. I had time to do some soul searching on my flight over. I made oaths that I will keep, but… you’re offering another path, aren’t you?”

I gave you freedom, Keith. Freedom to choose, without the weight of the poison you put in your body. I understand why you picked up that burden, but it’s the kind that will crush a mortal soul. The nature of your powers does not an allogene make.

“Allogene?” Naomi asked, and immediately regretted it.

“I’m not sure what that means, but I choose to stand with you,” Legend said, his hand forming into a fist. He pressed it to his chest in salute, and bowed slightly. “I don’t fully understand what you are, but I do know that whatever you have planned, I’m in. Don’t tell me anything you don’t want my… colleagues…to know. But I’ll follow you, even if I have to do it blind.”

So trusting, and in so little time. What made you change your mind? Barbatos asked, a faint, sad smile on his lips.

“Call it my gut, call it faith, call it whatever you want. I just know that before you came, hope was in scarce supply. And yet… though in some ways little has changed, my heart is yet full,” Keith said, his voice breaking slightly. “So please. Let me help.”

Such is not for me to decide. You will find my burden easy, and my yoke light.

With that, Naomi found herself drifting towards the ground below, and Legend dove after them. Everyone else had clearly seen the arrival of one of the most famous capes in the entire world, and were on their feet, gathered around, watching as Barbatos hovered over them.

When Naomi’s feet hit the ground, she hurried over to stand by Capri, who put her arm around her and gave a squeeze. Naomi looked up, and could feel the tension and anticipation.

My children. I am so proud of you, Barbatos began at last. You have taken a stand for Freedom, and for what is good and right. A dangerous stance to take in any time and land, but especially so in this one. And as we have seen this past day, a stance that has a price. A steep one.

There were nods and a few stifled sobs, but no one spoke, and Barbatos continued. What happens next is in your hands. I have called you together, but I will not lead you.

“What!?”

“Why!?”

“But, you’re Lord Barbatos!”

I am. But you do not yet fully understand what I am. Barbatos spread his wings, and a wind passed through and over them, cutting to the quick and making Naomi shiver.

I AM THE ANEMO ARCHON. I AM FREEDOM. I AM BARBATOS, THE WIND THAT WATCHES OVER THESE LANDS. BUT I AM NOT A TYRANT. MINE IS TO GUIDE AND EMPOWER, NOT TO DOMINATE OR DICTATE. AND SO, WHILE I WILL EXTOLL YOU TO STAMP OUT THE EVIL THAT INFECTS THIS LAND, I CAN NOT DO SO MYSELF.

The voice rang in Naomi’s mind, on the verge of pain. She winced slightly, and saw many others do the same. When Barbatos was finished, however, Cookie jumped up on a table, and pointed her sword at Barbatos. “Oh don’t give me that, you’re just a lazy bard who wants to shirk his responsibilities, and pawn them off on us!”

There were a few horrified mutters, and Naomi heard Dorothy shout, “Blasphemy!”

You know me too well, Cookie. Barbatos said, and a warm chuckle was audible. Your knights have assembled, Grandmaster. Now lead them.

With that, Barbatos vanished. In his place, a silly bard in a green tunic and cap floated down to the ground, where he sat on the end of the table Cookie was standing on, batting his eyes at Cookie.

“I, er, well… you’re not getting out of this, Venti! Right, Capri!?” Cookie demanded.

“I’m kicking his ass out of my van if he doesn’t at least show up to the fight,” Capri growled in what Naomi knew were mock menacing tones.

She had to fight back a giggle, but she nodded seriously as well. “That’s right. So don’t go thinking you can shirk on this one, mister!”

“Oh darn, well, I suppose Venti the Bard will have to come after all,” he laughed, but then he turned serious. “Understand though, I will just be Venti the Bard. Not Lord Barbatos. This is important enough that I will take direct action, but nothing more than what a mortal would manage. Well, I might cheat just a little, but only a little, mind.”

“Yeah well, there’s no such thing as cheating now.” Cookie looked around, her face grim. “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience at this. The one big fight I was in, I got my ass handed to me. You sure you want me leading this? I mean, I can think of at least one guy here who’s more qualified.”

“Well, if you insist,” Itul said, swaggering forward. “Now, the Red Oni has a pretty keen mind, and what I think we need to do-”

“NOT YOU, DUMBASS!” Cookie shouted, picking up an empty mug and beaning Itul right in the head with it. “I meant HIM!”

She pointed to Legend, who had been standing quietly just outside the circle of Knights. The American hero held up his hands. “Oh no. This isn’t my operation. This is yours. I’ll follow your lead, and I’ll do my utmost to help, but I’ll accept responsibility of nothing more than a small squad. This isn’t a Protectorate operation, or team. This is yours. I’m here as an ally, not as a leader.”

“Right. Thanks. Fan-fucking-tastic,” Cookie muttered. “Not like you have more than a decade of leadership experience or anything.” She looked around the crowd, her expression half hopeful, half defiant. “Well? Anyone else think they can do a better job?”

No one spoke up, though Vorreiter did cheer and give Cookie two big thumbs up.

“Buncha morons, I tell you. RIGHT! Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Cookie growled. “We’ll be splitting into teams, and traveling to Munich. We’re gonna find the hostages, rescue them, and kill or capture every goddamn Nazi we find. After this, there won’t BE a Gesellschaft, understand?”

There were grim nods all around, and Cookie sighed, then hopped down. She snapped her fingers. “MAPS! WE NEED MAPS! And not your phones! Get me something I can draw on!”

There was a bust of activity, and the Knights buckled down to task at plan. Naomi felt a mixture of anxiety, excitement, and hope, as butterflies raged in her stomach.

“Hey. We’ll get through this,” Capri said, squeezing Naomi’s shoulder. “Together.”

“Yes,” she agreed, resting her hand atop Capri’s. “Together.”

The maps were assembled, the plan developed.

At dawn, they went to war.