The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 5, Chapter 1

Emily

And so, as if she were set before a Justice, Emily Varnell found herself telling the story of those last, harrowing hours. It came out easily, the words tumbling fully formed from thoughts she didn't know she was so eager to voice. In a way it was a confessional, an unburdening of the worst and most pitiless of sins, the failure that gnawed at her with the eight lives lost.

She told the tale of her failure to anticipate how her sergeant — and the civilians who had fled with him — would come back from the Gloam as her enemies. Her failure to take advantage of critical minutes when they had been gathered to start marching through the field. Having no plan to engage the Gloamtaken, nearly failing to take advantage of their resources until Decklan managed to find them a way. Failing to hold the mob, and finally, failing Sarah in those last minutes before the Rangers came to save them.

And through all of this, Captain Dremora listened. His questions, when he asked them, were pointed and direct, and voiced with neither cruelty nor compassion. He asked about her chosen tactics, the effectiveness of canister shot, if it was easier to defend from trench to trench or or if it mattered. He asked how quickly the labourers picked up their tasks, how high the brush needed to be to hold back Gloamtaken, how quickly they moved, if she felt they could outrun the creatures over both long and short distances.

In her sorrow, it wasn't until the Gloam began to clear, as the rangers still skirmishing in the fields managed to light most of the field and thin the grey fog, and Barleybarrel came into view, that she realized Captain Dremora's thoughts weren't on their last battle.

"Your observations match up with Redgrave's. We can't reliably outrun them over more than a few miles. Especially with civilians hugging the walls, we'd be snaked along for over a mile and spread too thin to defend them," the captain said. Quietly, a conversation in a library, or an office. The spoken equivalent of a fearful whisper.

"So you're hunkered down here, waiting for the trains, sir?" Emily asked.

"No. I can't depend on the trains. We had to scrounge just to get ourselves into Barleybarrel, though we managed to put the least mobile people aboard one and get them out. We have nearly two million people to move into the City, and until a few hours ago, Barleybarrel was the bottom of the priority list."

"Because of Crafter Kohl."

They both turned back, towards the gap in the wall. "Aye. Over fifty miles from the Northreach District, the furthest from the City a Golem has ever been brought down. The source of our current predicament. Let me put a question to you, corporal. I have a full company of rangers, and if I added yours and a carefully picked detail of civilians to act as a screening force in the field, right now, do you think we could make the march towards the access ramp at the next Causeway?"

Emily frowned, though the surprise of being asked took longer to respond to than her answer. "No. It's too much front to fight along. My people wouldn't have lasted long enough to be rescued without that Valkyrie. We'd spend too long in the field at the risk of being outflanked or overrun. And even with that gun, we wouldn't have made it on our own. I'll be honest, sir, the only time that would have worked was when we were still in the field. Using us as a sacrificial distraction might have bought you another hour or more, and it could have made the difference."

"Abyss take us all. If it weren't for Vincent, I might have considered it," Captain Dremora admitted.

It was telling, for Emily, that the admission didn't offend her. But it did frighten her, as the captain's words spoke to how dire their circumstances still were. "Vincent, that's the Crafter with you, isn't it?"