The Spire in Solaria is hailed as one of the great wonders of the modern world. Its porcelain walls rise a majestic ten stories above the rest of the Empire's capital, and can be seen from afar throughout much of he surrounding region. It is a fitting reminder to the citizens of Solaria and the Empire beyond of the supreme power and might of the Empire, and the purity that it represents. Even those in the Far Continents know of the Spire's existence, and many of the Empire's more loyal and affluent citizens make a point of experiencing its awesome presence firsthand at least once in their lifetimes.

Being the palace of Emperor Hawthorne III and the central hub for all Imperial operations, it is naturally also the most secure location in the world. Full garrisons of Elite Dervishes and battle mages are personally selected for the honor of serving as the Spire Guard, and the Empire's finest wizards and incantors regularly supply its grounds with modern magical defenses. It is heavily warded against all teleportation and flight spells, the outer gates are layered with specialized anti-enchantment spells and an antimagic field to obstruct the occasional rebellious fireball from the city, and the command center is equipped with a state-of-the-art magical scrying system, allowing the Guard to instantly locate any disturbance within a radius of several miles.

And yet, if the reports are accurate, a small army has somehow managed to appear midway up the tower. They came out of a janitors' closet, according to the servant girl who first saw them and sounded the alarm. The Guardsmen assigned to the upper floors are doing their best to hold them back, but whoever the intruders are, they've already pushed up to the sixth level and are moving quickly.

That's one of the problems with the new system, of course. It was noted in the last efficiency report: the Guard can use communication magic to coordinate through the tower, but with these fancy anti-portal wards, they can't just teleport up to the top floor anymore. Of course, it would be a lot easier to coordinate if the godsdamned scry pool was working. It's never acted like this before.

General Limoncelli listens to the commander's report quite stoically, taking in cues from the environment as low-level wizards and communications officers panic around him. In particular, the much-hyped scrying system lies clouded as several mages continue their spells in attempts to fix it. In the back of his mind, Limoncelli notes that he owes Garzahd a well-deserved "I told you so" for relying solely on his magical [censored] instead of making room in the budget for a separate garrison upstairs.

"We've sent squads up behind them already," the commander continues, "and we're trying to call in every available soldier from the city. But we don't know what it is we're dealing with, and the mages upstairs need to concentrate if they're going to send us messages. They can't damn-well concentrate if they're being attacked."

"Priest support? Augmenting?" Limoncelli's time in the Nephar Campaigns taught him well that the right magical buffs can turn a battle quickly.

"I've sent our available spellcasting assets with the back-up," the commander responds. "They're under instruction to try and haste the force up the Spire as efficiently as possible. To save energy for the fight."

"And the Emperor?"

"Was having a meeting in the throne room when the first reports came in. He's pinned upstairs."

Limoncelli takes a moment to process the information flowing around him. The upper Spire is designed primarily for opulence instead of offices, but the hallways are narrow enough to defend, should that be the case. Of course, the truly heavy security ends at the fourth floor: one practically needs an invitation from the Emperor himself to pass that point.

"Sir!" One of the communications officers approaches the commander. "And,,, sir," he says quietly, recognizing Limoncelli. "The mages are coordinating. The best that they have seen is that there are only four intruders, and that they are crossing into the seventh level. The Guardsmen aren't giving them enough trouble, even with the troops from lower floors coming up." The young officer pauses, receiving another telepathic message. "Sirs, they want to know where the backup is."

Limoncelli has finally pinpointed the best line of defense. ...but... only four invaders taking on the Empire's Finest? Stranger things have happened.

"Lieutenant, please have our forces upstairs pull themselves together in an ambush on the steps of the ninth level. I want only a token defense on the eighth floor. Tell them to prepare for a long fight: acid and stunning when possible, but mostly, keep the men shielded and on their feet. There are healers on the way. I want confirmation when they're ready." As an afterthought, he adds. "And get in contact with the Throne Room Guard. Tell them that they are to wait and use the throne room doors as a final choke point. "

The commander waits for the communications officer to return to the mages, "That's right outside of the throne room," he says quietly.

Limoncelli does not have the opportunity to respond, for which he is glad. Instead, he is interrupted by the blustery entrance of a throng of soldiers, clearly trying to escort a very irritated someone of importance.

"... teleported all the way from Imperius, to be asked for IDENTIFICATION???" The two soldiers in front fly out of the way as Arch-wizard Garzahd, arguably the second most powerful man in the Empire, storms towards the scrying pool. He is unusually disheveled, and the particular set of ratty laboratory robes that surround his short, bulky form make him look more like a clown than the head of the Imperial Army and the emperor's most trusted counselor, a fact that Limoncelli has pointed out to him in the past. Limoncelli unintentionally smirks, and a single finger flies up in the general's direction. "Not a WORD, you!"

"It's good to see you, too," Limoncelli mutters, joining his superior at the rim of the scry pool.

Garzahd ignores him, instead muttering thoughts of punishment aloud. One hand traces an intricate pattern on the water's surface, while the other nervously claws and tugs at the wizard's foot-long beard of well-groomed graying hair.

Within seconds, the clouded image that has plagued the command center comes into sharp focus, eliciting a sharp snort.

"It's them."

"Which 'them'?" Limoncelli asks cautiously, taking in the pool's scene. He has no idea who the four people in patchwork armor are, but he has a fairly good idea, given the rate at which they quickly take down an armored Guardsman, where they are, and just how dangerous they are.

"The Scree Pits." Garzahd turns sharply to Limoncelli, his face beginning to burn a disturbing crimson. "Last month, our primary outpost Below was attacked. I watched the whole thing through a communications sphere."

Below.

The statement is barely out of the Arch-wizard's mouth before Limoncelli begins moving towards the door. There are contingencies for this. Every possible option has been considered. There is a good reason why the Spire is so heavily fortified, especially with magic.

But clearly, it is not enough.

His swords are out before he reaches the hallway, and he finds the old motions coming to him more quickly than he expected.

Before he hits the stairs, General Limoncelli becomes a racing blur to those around him, as the magical augment that made him a legend kicks in.

With all of the mages and rebels and criminals that Emperor Hawthorne insisted on simply shunting away underground instead of killing, Limoncelli has always known that there is a risk of them striking back. There is an even bigger "I told you so" that will have to be delivered, one involving the mass execution of enemies of the state. One that, unless he hurries, may come too late.