Tick.

The pendulum of an old wooden grandfather clock slowly clicked, filling the stone-cold room with a rhythm that drowned out the silence.

Tock.

A large limestone table rested in the center of the room with a single chair pulled to the side. The sun's embrace vanished from the enclosed room, yet a single figure stood vigilantly at the head of the table with his head draped low, his eyes focused on the map spread out before him. Wax-sealed letters littered the surface like corpses along the bastion's floors.

Tick.

Shadows crept along the kingdom's borders from the southern side. A darkness lurking within the Empire was gnawing at his homeland's flesh. Rotting the land with each passing day. The scarlet glow from the magic lantern illuminated the Everheart Kingdom, revealing markings scoured across the parchment.

Tock.

The figure didn't move. He stood still with the golden badge resting on his belt. He took a long, drawn-out breath and quietly cursed. Flags of crimson and azure rested on various locations, and even though Tucker didn't want to admit it, they were slowly getting pushed back. One section after another, the Everheart Kingdom was losing ground. They were barely seizing victory from the jaws of death.

The suicidal advancements of the Sword Saint and various knight orders were gradually pushing back the darkness. But like a flame dancing in a raging storm, they were slowly dwindling, suffocating beneath the pressure that was asserted from all sides. Each battle near the coastlines came with staggering losses. Losses so devastating that historians would mark them as keystones in their legacy.

Tucker rested his palms on the ivory surface of the limestone table. His rolled up black sleeves stopped right above his elbows. Before him was a branching path. One that leaned towards defeating the Emerald Tower and another that secured his nation's future.

His eyes lingered on the map. There was only one question on his mind: Was now the best time to go after the Emerald Tower?

He had seen the lengths the Emerald Tower would go to all in the name of victory. The sacrifice and bloodshed that came from their opposition. But the Avalon Empire wasn't an adversary he could ignore. Watchmen were perishing on the battlefield, giving their lives so that their home could live to see another day.

A flame within Tucker's heart wavered as he thought about the current situation. The Order was targeting strategic locations, weakening the Empire's logistics, and with each mission, they were slowly tipping the scales of war. But gathering a division of watchmen and having the Administrators approve of their purpose meant that there would be fewer operatives assisting the army.

It was a double-sided blade. On one hand, they were slowly bleeding, draining their resources to keep the Empire at bay. While on the other, if they struck the Emerald Tower and destroyed their research, it would be a guaranteed victory for humanity but not for his home.

He closed his eyes, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock. In the upcoming days, he would meet with the Head Administrator and propose his next course of action. This was a meeting setup by Salamander himself, even though he hadn't been to the Order in months. There was no telling how dire the situation had become.

With the events surrounding the Stafford and Aegis bastions, Tucker knew he couldn't hesitate, but the thought of losing those he cared about weighed on his mind. A sea of blood rose to his knees. Those he had failed grabbed onto his legs, digging into his skin with their broken fingertips. The crimson hue from the blood-soaked hands stained his black pants in a color he couldn't see.

It all felt so real, yet the moment he opened his eyes... it vanished.

The familiar office scenery returned. Stacks of pages layered on top of a coordinated map with a soft glow barely repelling the shadows. It was as if nothing had changed, but Tucker knew that wasn't the case. He slowly closed his hands and focused on the pages resting on the surface of the ivory table. He reached for it, holding the outcome of the Stafford defense within his fingertips.

Fifteen thousand, seven hundred and forty-three.

That was the number of dead soldiers from the Everheart Kingdom. A hundred and eighty from the Thirty-First. The casualties on the Empire's side were estimated to be around double that of the Kingdom's, but Tucker knew better. They were trying to keep morale from plummeting. After all, if that weren't the case, then they would have released the report for the Aegis bastion.

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"It's all fucked beyond belief," Tucker muttered, gazing through his brown strands of hair.

They needed to make every action count. But the confidence and strength needed to carry out each mission felt just out of reach. The ones he worked with in the bastion all had their roles and it would be a miracle to get them on board. Most of them had their own hardships. Pathfinder wouldn't kill another person because it went against her beliefs, and Eric was fully committed to his instructor role.

That only left Ray, but as Tucker thought about the back of the man who had fought alongside him. The figure quietly sitting by himself on the oak bench in the park while taking small sips of whiskey. He knew it wasn't right to rely on him. Those who had fought with him in the bastion had been through too much. Too much heartache and pain. They had lost so many comrades in the snap of a finger.

Asking more from those who followed him would only be outrageous, but it had to be done.

Tucker slowly exhaled as a faint white cloud escaped his lips. For an instant, it hovered like a broken spirit, catching the pale light before vanishing in the breeze that came with a soft creak. Light seeped into the room as the wooden door parted. The silent turn of the metallic handle that should have made a noise drew his attention.

His hazel eyes focused on the figure who walked in. The simple steps left no traces on the oak floorboards, as if a ghost had entered the room, but he knew very well who it was. The old man combed his ashen hair to the side while adjusting his hat, glancing at the stacks of folders on the limestone table.

"So, what exactly am I looking at?" Alex asked, brushing his fingertips against the papers. He narrowed his black eyes. "I don't recognize some of these names."

"They're men I fought alongside in the bastion," Tucker replied. "I can vouch for their capabilities."

"Some of them aren't watchmen," Alex pointed out.

"I know, but they have potential for what we'll be doing."

Alex pondered for a moment, but soon nodded. "I'll take your word for it, but will they answer the call?"

The corners of Tucker's lips slowly curled up. "One might, and if he does join… then he'll be all we need for now."

"We'll have to see about that." Alex held onto a folder and carefully studied the records. "The only watchman you called upon is a fire contractor?"

Tucker watched as Alex dropped the folder in the center of the table. He read the letters on the surface, "Ray Maroon," with a grin. "He's trustworthy—a bit of a loose cannon, but one who isn't afraid to march through hell."

Alex smirked. "Reminds me of you. Do you have a proposal prepared for the administrators?"

"I have something in mind, but the odds of them agreeing are slim."

"How slim?"

"Maybe thirty percent."

Alex scoffed. "That's low."

"I know, but the odds of the Head Administrator granting permission to target the Emerald Tower aren't high to begin with." Tucker stared at the single green flag planted at the heart of the Avalon Empire. "The odds of us reaching there without getting detected is close to impossible, and I just haven't figured out how we're going to take them down."

Alex quietly stood there while gazing at the conflicted expression on the young watchman's face. He cleared his throat and picked up several green flags. "I have an idea, but it'll be tough."

One by one, he started placing the markers on cities containing a branch of the Emerald Tower. "I'll tell you how it is. The administrators won't give you permission to go after the Emerald Tower. There's too much at stake, and right now, you're entering a closed meeting with no cards up your sleeves."

Tucker glanced at his mentor as he moved around the table.

"Now that you're back, our purpose—our goal isn't to settle personal vendettas but to win this war." Alex met Tucker's gaze. "You don't need to convince them; you just need to give them a reason."

Tucker stood there and focused on the markers. "And you're saying we'll find a reason in one of these cities?"

"It's possible. We'll have more freedom and room for error if we move with the army."

"How much room?"

"Enough to keep the administrators from breathing down our necks."

Tucker released a deep sigh. "The Emerald Tower needs to be stopped, and the more time we spend chasing leads will only give them chances to recover."

"That's true… however, do you have the confidence to take them down?"

The young man's eyes gazed off into the distance. "I would be lying if I said I did. They have endless mages and knights at their disposal. Golems crafted from sheets of metal that can repel aura and cross hundreds of meters in the blink of an eye."

Alex quietly chuckled. "Well, it's good you're honest because if you said you had the confidence to take them down with two watchmen, then I would've called you crazy."

"Even I know my limits, old man."

"About damn time," Alex smirked before placing down a small stone statue of an old man wielding a sword along the coast. "Then, until the others join our ranks, we'll assist the Sword Saint's forces and lay siege on the city."

Tucker's eyes focused on the stone statue. "So that's why you placed the markers… our goal isn't just to help the Sword Saint. We'll also raid the Emerald Tower's branch."

"You catch on quick. If we need a reason, it'll be in there." Alex patted Tucker on the shoulder. "For now, I'll see if I can convince our fellow fire watchmen to join us. You should prepare yourself; the teleportation device will be ready soon, then we'll be back in the main compound of the Order."

Tucker watched as Alex waved his hand to the side, heading back the way he came. Once the wooden door creaked shut, leaving him alone in the room. A tired sigh escaped his lips. Salamander was right. Even if he tried to persuade the administrators to attack the Emerald Tower, they didn't have enough leverage to justify the allocation of resources.

Days had passed since they had taken down the golem at Stafford, and from the numerous skirmishes that had taken place. Odds were that the Empire only had five operational war machines left. Tucker gently tapped the surface of the limestone table, his eyes drawn to the city that the Sword Saint was besieging.

There was no telling what fate had in store for them, but the turning point of this war would all start in Alexandria. The coastal city of the Empire.

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