Watching the events at Camelot unfold live, Matthew Gödel turned to Elisabeth Blackstone with a degree of justification in his voice.
"It appears we had little to worry about," he commented, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders. "The Societie Royale has fallen into our trap. Soon, Britannia's Blessed Houses will follow them to the grave, and the country will be ours for the taking."
"It does appear so, Mr. Gödel," Elisabeth replied, her smile dripping with sarcasm. "Though, I hope you've excluded the House of Blackstone from your list of future targets, considering the aid we've given you in this operation."
"Certainly," he replied. "And now that we have assurance of our success, Ms. Blackstone, please allow us to escort you to somewhere more comfortable."
He motioned to the command center's security guards, who moved to flank Elisabeth on either side.
Elisabeth's brow furrowed as she discerned his intentions.
It seemed Gödel did not, in fact, intend to leave the House of Blackstone alone. Perhaps he saw this as an opportunity to rid himself of a potential future threat, or perhaps he thought Elisabeth might reveal evidence of his involvement with the assassination at an inopportune moment.
"Of course, Mr. Gödel," Elisabeth said coldly. "Though, I'm afraid, there's something else you've overlooked."
"Hm? What have I overlooked, do tell?"
The men grabbed Elisabeth's arms and began dragging her to the door. She offered no resistance, allowing her body to go limp as she began chuckling to herself.
"Me."
Matthew Gödel was confident in his security team's abilities. They were drawn from the best branches of the military and had been provided with top-notch runic equipment. No matter what form of magic the Blackstone girl possessed, she wouldn't be able to escape from her looming execution.
Because of this, he had kept his gaze on the mission monitors whilst ordering Elisabeth's detainment and doom and engaging with her final banter, allowing a self-satisfied smile to creep over his face as he heard her being dragged out the door.
But when she said "Me," a pit of fear formed in his stomach, something he hadn't felt in a long time—not since a particularly brutal torture session in the Middle East, one where he had been the victim.
He turned to face her, and the sight chilled him to the bone.
Elisabeth, limp-bodied, was cackling in a most insane matter as the burly military men dragged her towards the elevator.
Suddenly, she said a single word:
"Die."
The two men instantly fell to the ground, unresponsive, but Elisabeth didn't fall with them. Despite her body being unsupported, she hung in the air like a puppet held aloft by invisible strings; it was truly terrifying to behold.
She began to levitate, her limbs and head hanging loosely on their joints, rising a few feet into the air.
Her head snapped upright, her eyes boring holes through Gödel's skull.
Gödel had been staring, speechless, at the new type of power put on display before him. As the ringleader of the spies in Britannia, he was well-versed in the political and magical arenas, and he was well aware that no known magician was able to turn any word into a magical spell by willpower alone.
That's not how magic worked.
New chants required a vigorous mental training, meant to associate the semiotic meaning of the chant with the intended magical effect, but even then results varied greatly.
Yet Elisabeth Blackstone had just killed two men, equipped with the best magical defenses money could buy, with a single word.
Gödel didn't know what kind of power she possessed, but it petrified him.
I have made a grave mistake, he thought, too afraid to vocalize this repentance.
"Now, then," Elisabeth whispered forcefully as her body floated unnaturally towards Gödel, "I think my timetable has been moved up by a few hours, but that shouldn't pose any problem. It's time for your reckoning, Matthew Gödel. Prepare yourself."
***
Hope and Jessamine led their new companions towards the din of battle, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Half of their company had disappeared—were they afraid? Did they fail to infiltrate the city? Were they stopped by some exterior force?
No matter what was the cause, the loss of half of their forces was no mere trifle. It presented a significant obstacle to the plan, where the right flank was supposed to arrive and put pressure on the enemies currently engaged with the left flank. The two Societie leaders, competent though they may be, could not risk assuming that role themselves.
And now—this unknown Research Group, having abandoned their original duties, was assisting them in supporting their trapped forces.
It's odd, if not blatantly suspicious, thought Jessamine.
"Do you have any weapons?" asked Jessamine as they approached the battlefield.
"No," Pierre lied. "But we do know some battle magic."
"Shield spells?"
"Yes, ma'am, as well as Fireball, Icicle Blast, and other elemental attacks."
Jessamine considered various strategies, attempting to find one which would protect as many of her people as possible.
If this Research Group applied pressure to the enemies, they'd likely be wiped out before long.
If either Jessamine or Hope did so, sooner or later a mistake would lead to their death or dismemberment.
However, if the Research Group was able to provide a distraction while staying safe, Jessamine could cast counter-magic on the enemies' shields, allowing the remnants of the Societie to seize the day.
And there's always Caspian's group.
He should be arriving soon…
…where has he been?!
Jessamine settled on this plan, and motioned everyone to gather round.
"Alright, here's the plan," she began. "You lot will use your elemental attacks to get their attention. I'll get close to them and cast counter-magic to disable their shields. Hope, you'll be in charge of communicating this plan to our forces near the left stairwell. Does anyone here know remote shield magic?"
One girl, who might be described as mousey, gingerly raised her hand. It appeared she wasn't comfortable being this close to combat; Jessamine couldn't blame her.
"Alright, then, you'll come with me and protect me while I'm casting my spell. Unfortunately, I need to have line-of-sight to my target, so I'll have to be close to the front lines. Is that okay with you?"
The girl looked to Pierre, who gently nodded as if to say "You'll be okay."
"Y-yes, that's okay," the girl stammered.
"Alright, then. Let's begin this operation immediately. Hope—be careful."
Hope nodded, her eyes meeting Jessamine's in a moment of serious sisterhood, before using Reposition to move a dagger towards their strike force. In a few moments, Hope vanished into thin air, shocking the Research Group.
"Move out," said Jessamine, and everyone instantly moved to fulfill the role they were given.
Despite the potential of this plan, Jessamine couldn't help but feel that something was off—a similar feeling as to when she identified Caspian's manufactured aura.
What's causing this feeling?
Oh, right. The disappearance of the force assigned to the right stairwell…
Did I overlook that in my strategy? But I tried to make the best plan with the pieces I have…
I can't worry about that right now.
If I don't focus, I could die.
Worse—the people who have followed me here could die.
I won't let that happen.
Jessamine and the small girl with big glasses were cautiously advancing towards the gunfire. They couldn't risk anything faster, as they might unintentionally draw their enemies' attention and be targeted before they had a chance to defend themselves, and so they proceeded at a snail's pace.
After a few minutes, the pair had advanced a dozen meters or so and were by now well out of sight of the Research Group. It was here that Jessamine found what she was looking for: a small gap in the web of machinery, large enough for her to view the enemy's troop deployment and hopefully small enough to avoid detection.
"Alright, stop here," she said. "Begin casting the remote shield spell. I'll begin the counter-magic."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jessamine got into position and began chanting, making sure to properly observe the enemy force: "Omnia, quae sub sole sunt, regnum meum sunt; Omnia magica discutiantur!"
As she did so, the gentle tones of "Onixdar arvin pax gigpah gemeganza" filled her ears, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief.
Looks like I won't have to use instinctive shield magic for now.
As Jessamine finished her chant, she heard a roaring sound coming from her left—the direction of her trapped forces. It was probably a battle cry as the charged their defenseless opponents.
She looked through her makeshift viewport, only to see that the enemy had not been routed: rather, they appeared just as calm and collected when they still had their shields.
Something's wrong.
It was only now, as Jessamine once again allowed her thoughts to wander over every recent event in search of danger, that she realized a crucial detail had been overlooked.
'Onixdar arvin pax gigpah gemeganza' was not the chant used for a remote shield spell.
Jessamine wheeled around to see her companion, the small, non-threatening girl with large glasses, pointing a pistol in her direction.
Her hands were shaking, but there was a determination in her eyes.
"So, your Research Group is the ring of spies that have infiltrated the school," Jessamine said, resigned to her fate. "I'm guessing our force in the right stairwell won't be joining us."
"They weren't expecting us, and we have some fierce fighters," the girl replied.
"I've seen you before, haven't I?"
"In the library, once. I was attempting to recruit that technological genius to our cause, but you got in the way."
"So you harbor hatred towards me? Is that it?"
"Only a little," the girl replied with a dark smile. "I'm sorry this is taking so long, but I've never done this before. I need a moment to steel my nerves."
"It's fine," said Jessamine, forcing a small laugh into her conversation. "I wouldn't complain if you took even longer."
The girl chuckled, but it wasn't the mirthful or even sarcastic sound Jessamine knew. This sound was pathetic, hopeless, without life—as she soon would be.
"Magic rounds, I'm guessing?" she asked, attempting to stall for time.
"Yeah, but not your usual flavor."
"How so?"
"You'll see."
The girl took a deep breath and momentarily closed her eyes. Jessamine considered using the opportunity to escape, but she didn't want to find out what type of magical ammunition the girl had in store for her.
When she opened her eyes, her hand was steady and her gaze was clear.
"Well, it was nice to get to talk to you, Ms. Phillips," said Jessamine, finally remembering her name.
Jessamine detected an odd sound nearby, breaking the silence that seemed to settle around the pair.
Footsteps?
Someone running towards us…
It's quiet... I guess Hope was successful. That means...
She turned her head towards the source of the sound, and Faith Phillips, the novice that she was, followed suit.
A sword of unknown make slashed upwards through Faith's extended arm, cleanly severing it from her body and causing both her arm and her gun to clatter on the floor.
Someone tackled Faith Phillips to the ground, which was a rather easy feat due to Faith's state of shock, and covered her mouth with an open palm.
Jessamine could see the assailant now: a young woman, likely an academy freshman, with short brown hair.
Jessamine heard the newcomer preparing a chant: "Purgel malprg pan ardox!"
Fireball?!
Both Jessamine and Faith's eyes widened in horror as they suddenly understood what was about to happen. Faith began kicking and screaming through the girl's suppressive hand, trying to escape her fate with all her might.
Jessamine could only watch as a bright light began emanating from within Faith's mouth, illuminating the blood vessels in her cheeks, lips, and jaw, while the poor girl's screams intensified.
After a few moments, the fireball exploded, which caused many parts of Faith's face to crumple inwards. It was only later that Jessamine realized this was due to the fireball incinerating much of the muscle and bone within Faith's head.
Her task complete, Jessamine's brutal savior stood.
"I'm sorry for that, but that girl is a sly fox. Had to be sure she's dead."
Jessamine took a moment to collect herself before replying.
"I saw you with the Research Group," said Jessamine, her tone conveying a reluctance to speak being overpowered by necessity. "Can I trust you?"
"I'm not affiliated with the spies, if that's what you're asking," the girl replied. "My name is Laura Stuart. I work for Caspian Dawson."
Jessamine made a mental note of how the girl avoided answering her question, before her mind caught up with what Ms. Stuart had said.
"You work for Caspian?!"
"Yes, but that's not important right now. You need to focus. We're surrounded and without allies."
"But, the Societie—"
"Ms. di Cadenza," Laura said coldly, "everyone on the left flank is dead."