"Find. That. Fucking. Bitch." Silvercrone practically broke the caps off his teeth, snarling into the phone. He slammed down the receiver. He dropped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he looked around the darkened room and shook his head. The space the Frostoria had given him to work was, of course, nothing if not comfortable. But he longed to be in his own office at Tabula Rasa to deal with this crisis.
There was a knock at the door and Silvercrone beckoned his visitor to enter. It was D'lia. He suddenly remembered staring her down after she suggested he not jump to conclusions. She was doing her job yesterday he reminded himself.
"Please, come in D'lia. Oh..." he stood from his chair and turned on the lamp behind him and pointed at the light switch D'lia was next to. "Would you mind...?"
D'lia nodded and flipped the light switch, then walked across the room to Silvercrone's desk.
"Have a seat," he said, a little stiffly. D'lia sat, a little stiffly as well, he noticed.
D'lia began "Sir, I wanted to apol...." Silvercrone put up his palm.
"No," he said, "don't apologize. I know you were doing your job and your opinions are what I pay you for." D'lia seemed a little surprised, then smiled slightly - that smirk that drove him crazy. His wife, rest her soul, had a similar habit of ever-so-slightly jutting her chin out when she was angry, and had the same lustful effect on him. His current lust was short-lived.
"I was going to say," D'lia continued, "that I wanted to apologize for not getting here sooner. I've been answering questions from the press and state governors."
"Oh," Silvercrone said, glad that he did not have the complexion that loaned itself to reddening from embarrassment. "Er, that's fine. No worries." Idiot.
"Still no sign of Amaxia?"
"No, I was just on the phone with MPsych. They will find her, and for her sake I hope they don't bring her back alive."
D'lia shifted in her chair. "I had my differences with her, but I never once had a thought that she might be a traitor. Did the MPsych shed any more light on it?"
"Not much. Dammit, we shouldn't have assumed her ties to the Ascendancy were severed completely. If I find that she played a major role in this ... disaster, I'll be crucified, and I'll deserve it."
"So far, the story has not gotten to the press. No one asked me a thing about her." There was a pause, and Silvercrone stood up and walked over to the bar. "Drink?" he asked.
"No, sir, thank you."
He tossed a couple of ice cubes in a glass and poured himself a double scotch. "How is Rhand doing?"
"He's been tirelessly bouncing between all of the delegates rooms. It's actually pretty impressive. Thafter trained him well, and ... I thought he was too taciturn for the job, but with the responsibility now on his shoulders, he's taken charge. And Thafter's staff has not missed a beat."
"Good." Silvercrone threw back the scotch and poured another. He put the bottle down next to the glass, put his hands on the bar and bowed his head. He was experiencing a type of tiredness that he had never felt - complete and endless. Even during the early years of the War, when he was fighting for his life for days at a time, he knew there was always an end coming - death or victory. But now he was in charge of a nearly two hundred year old nation that was limping along on crutches, and one of them had just been kicked out. How to go on?
"Sir...?" D'lia brought him back to the present and he turned to see that Rhand Drenton had entered the room. His face was stern, with a focus that Silvercrone had not seen from the thirty year old former Assistant Ambassador. Silvercrone motioned them both over to the table and brought his drink. When they were seated, Silvercrone dove right in.
"What news?"
"Myroria is pulling out. They are in the process of leaving."
"Well, that's not surprising, but disappointing to be sure. At the very least, we can be fairly confident that they were not part of the Ascendancy attack."
"Right," agreed Drenton. "No one would show up to a conference they know is going to be attacked, not even for show. On the positive side, they seemed genuinely sorry to be going, and Gilas Quarrovth did not even attempt to hide his disdain for the decision and whoever made it."
Silvercrone sighed. "Well, not so bad. When are they leaving?"
"Soon. The Order Guard retrieved their effects from the Minax, but they had to delay leaving for the airport - the Guard is still securing the route."
"F-u-u-u-u-u-c-k!!!" Silvercrone shot out of his chair, flipping it on the floor behind him, and threw his glass at the desk across the room. He raised his hands above his head. "The route was supposed to be secure already!!!" He took a deep breath and picked up his chair. He sat and glanced at Drenton and D'lia. "Sorry," he said quietly. "Waste of good scotch." Drenton and D'lia both smiled, but their concern was apparent. Ok, Octavius, you punk, your people need you to lead, so fucking lead.
"Drenton, you and I will bid the Myrorians farewell as soon as they are cleared. And I want you to ride to the airport with them. Make sure they are as comfortable as is possible, and do your damndest to ensure they know they are leaving with our blessing. Has anyone else made a decision?"
"Still no word from the Ozians or Dalarians. I put my head in a couple of times, but they waved me off."
"What about Al'Khem?"
"Same. They've asked a few questions, but haven't given any indication..."
"They never do. I would hate to play poker with them."
"Yes sir. The only read I could get is that they seem a little unsure of whether we're actually in charge."
"We've held power for two and a half years..." He stopped himself. "No matter, can't blame them. Hopefully our military response will help convince them. Well, the AS and Letonna responses were the best we could have hoped for. If we weren't sure about the AS as allies before, I think we know now. The Ascendancy kicked the hornet's nest there."
Silvercrone tapped his fingers. "Ok," he said to Drenton, see if you can't hurry things along for the Myrorians and come get me as soon as they're ready to go."
"Right." Drenton got up and left the room, passing General Switzak on the way.
"General, come in. What news?" The General removed his hat and stepped across the room. He was a large man, though clearly his more active days were behind him. His blonde combover and bushy blonde mustache, combined with his natural ruddy complexion made Silvercrone think of the Durlothic fairy tale about the holiday thief.
"Sir," said the General, "the mission was a success."
"Already?!" Silvercrone said. Silvercrone and D'lia both jumped from their chairs.
"In just over 24 hours?" D'lia looked incredulous.
"Yes," said the General. "As you know, MPsych and the Order Guard have had the Ascendancy leadership under close watch, and in spite of the scrambling they've been doing the past few weeks, we were able to capture all of them."
"All of them? What does that even mean?" said D'lia.
"Ma'am, all known officers of the Ascendancy are under arrest or dead."
Silvercrone and D'lia said nothing.
The General paused, then straightened and continued. "Although the mission was a success, it was not perfect. There were some....unfortunate outcomes."
"Continue," Silvercrone waved his hand impatiently.
"Our spies who had infiltrated the Ascendancy were found dead in South Mordant."
"All of them?"
"Yes sir. They were left for us to ... find. Their bodies were together in an abandoned Ascendancy camp and there were clear signs of torture."
"Amaxia Ghent," D'lia muttered through clenched teeth.
"Also," said the General, "there were civilian casualties. It appeared that many of the South Mordant locals were Ascendancy sympathizers and took up arms when we raided the Ascendancy camps."
"How many?"
"Approximately 1500 sir."
"Fucking fuck."
"Yes sir."
Silvercrone put his hands on the table and bent over, rocking back and forth between his toes and heels. He spoke quietly, which always unnerved D'lia.
"So our spies were betrayed and killed and some of the citizenry in South Mordant were so adamant that they gave their lives to defend the Ascendancy. And yet, inexplicably, with our spies dead and civilians hiding them, we were able to capture all high level officers in little more than 24 hours?" He raised his head and stared at the General.
"Sir? I don't..."
"D'lia?"
D'lia shook her head. "Something isn't right."
"No. No it's not. General, my MPsych background is screaming that we've been played. Keep the military out in full force. I want South Mordant torn apart until we've looked under every stone and brick, found any of bastard or bitch that even remotely smells like the Ascendancy and confident that they have no more knowledge left to give."
The General saluted, turned and marched out of the room, his jaw set. He had miscalculated, not giving Silvercrone credit enough to not take the easy win. Luckily for him, he and the his men had been given a green light to eradicate the Ascendancy. And that is what he intended to do.
---------------
"Sir," said Drenton, "The Myroria delegation is leaving." Silvercrone straightened his suit and followed Drenton and one of his aides. The Ambassador talked quickly. "Letonna wants to confirm that the Summit will continue tomorrow morning."
"Tell them absolutely, and thank them for their patience. Make sure they are comfortable, whatever that means to them." The aide rushed off.
Silvercrone and Drenton made it down to the main floor just as Gilas and his entourage were walking past. Silvercrone fell in line.
"Again, I want to offer my apologies, Gilas, for this horrible incident. Please relay to your Majesty our regret and also our assurances that the prudent decision to pull your delegation will have no impact on what we hope are fruitful future relationships." They passed the Order Guard holding back a sea of media and into the Myroria limo. Order Guards were everywhere.
As the Prime Minister watched the limo pull away from the curb with Drenton inside, doing as much as he could, the Allied States of Bustos limo pulled in. Finally, thought Silvercrone, some good timing.
The Order Guard opened the door and assisted the Bustos Spec Ops in getting Duke Alonso into a wheelchair. Silvercrone stepped forward and grasped the Dukes hand with both of his. He did not smile, nor say a word, but it was clear the Duke understood the sentiment. They both nodded and moved inside the Frostoria.
"Sir," said Silvercrone, "are you feeling up to facing the press?"
The Duke smiled as if he had just sat down to a four course meal. "The question, good Prime Minister, is 'are they feeling up to facing ME.'"
