A Tower rises more than a kilometre into the sky. I believed a Tower's height was 1,250m. Outside the climate-controlled interior, the top of the Tower was a totally different environment from the world below. On a cool day at the base of the Tower, frost might accumulate at the top. The air was thinner. Noticeably thinner. The horizon stretched further, one could see twice as far as could be done from ground level. With good optics a spectator on top of the Tower could see more than 100km. Winds howled around the top of the Tower. The structure never so much as swayed, but monstrous forces would affect anyone on the exterior. The shadow of the Tower stretched 40km. There were villages that marked daily events by when the shadow of the Tower crossed them, breaking for lunch only when the Oracle deigned to touch them. Clouds would drift below the highest reaches of the Tower.

I had spent my youth bed-bound and weak. I was still coming to terms with the reality that this condition had been inflicted intentionally by the man I had called father for the majority of my life. I was still trying to internalize the reality that Sempronius had put that illness on me to make me a machine that could satisfy his ambitions. Still, those years were not wasted. I had distracted myself with endless books. Sadly, most of them were sensational rather than scholarly, but still, the value was mine. I knew the tales of Tower sieges. I knew the tales of battling for control of the Oracle Chambers. When the Lady Bridget had defended herself from Padraig Dragonheart. When Tex had reclaimed his own Oracle Chamber as we aimed to do now.

From within the Oracle Chamber, the interior doors could be locked. The doors, like the walls of the Tower, could not be so much as scraped by any human effort, including the blades of a Griidlord. Only Entropy Storms had ever destroyed a Tower, as Cleveland had suffered less than a generation ago. Storming an Oracle Chamber could not be done from inside.

The Oracle Chamber was said to be huge, stretching several storeys to contain the massive entity of our deity. At the highest reaches of the chamber were balconies, one on each compass point, that could not be sealed. These were the only source of ingress to a locked Oracle Chamber. It was a terrible proposition that made an Oracle Chamber nearly unassailable. Attackers would need to scale the exterior, fighting wind and frost and thinning air. The defenders would be secure on the balconies, even standing within the thin climate field that kept them in warm oxygen-rich air.

History is sparse with examples of cities falling to assault. An attacker, in enemy territory, must battle with medieval tech while the defenders can employ anything their Flows can afford. Even after capturing a city, the Tower is impervious and the Oracle Chamber a terrible challenge to attack. It was why the cities had remained separate through our long history. It was almost by design that treaty ended every attempt at conquest.

I stood, surrounded by knights, by a door that led to the exterior. Beyond was the surface of the outside of the Tower. The defenders would not just have submachine guns and rifles. They were Templars. They would bear weapons that reflected the greatest humanity had ever been able to produce in the 24th century. Railguns. Plasma rifles. Directed energy. They could hurt me. They could do worse than hurt me.

The man before me was one I knew. We had competed. We had striven for the same prize. It was a prize I wore. But he had not shamed himself in the wake of his defeat. He was a knight now, a leader of the elite.

Theo looked at me with respect. The disdain that might have tainted his face in that old life was gone. I was the Sword. I was his Sword. I had brought his city more glory than he had dreamed he would see. I cherished the respect. I shouldn't have, I was above it, but the way he spoke was an affirmation that buffeted me.

"Lord Bloodsword, are you completely up to date?"

I smiled softly. I wanted to tell him that he could call me Tiberius. I wanted to make a friend of this old bully, this old competitor. But there was no time. Time was the rarest commodity in those moments. Fort Albany, the lives within, the security of our borders, all rested on what came next.

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I said, "Four teams will mount. I'm with yours. The defenders won't know what direction I'm coming from until the last moment. The objective is to get me to a platform without being shot off the side of the Tower. Did I hear someone say it takes 16 seconds to hit the ground? I think I'll survive it, but not well."

I winked at him.

Theo flashed a smile in return. He seemed uplifted by me. I couldn't say why. "Yes. We go fast. You hang back, give us a chance to secure more lines. We have the numbers. We can overwhelm them. It's not a matter of if, but when. But they'll start cutting lines. If they know where you're coming from, they'll focus on that side."

I breathed deeply. "Theo… you're risking your life. All of you are. The best of the best of Boston are going out there. It's a given that some of you will die. All to secure me a path…"

Theo said, "We do what we have to. This is our Tower, our City, our land. What else could we do."

I put an armored hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch back. If anything he seemed to revel in the gesture. I had been the shopkeeper's son to him a year ago. I had been dirt beneath his boot. Now I was a hero. Now I was the hero. It thrilled me and humbled me at the same time.

I said, "There is no other way. I know how important I am. If things were different I wouldn't allow this. I would go first, myself, and try to spare you. But I know what it would cost the city if a new Sword was needed now, of all times. I'm not arguing. I am respecting you, and the knights. What you do now is braver than what will be asked of me later. You risk your lives. I'll take that chamber. I'll kill those traitors. But you? You guys are the heroes."

He paused, holding my gaze. I saw it then, at last. The fear. The fear of a young man who might face his last moment. A year ago he had been competing to become the Sword of Boston. Since then he had needed to accept his defeat and set his life on a new course. He had become a knight, as so many noble sons did. He had become a leader of the Tower guard, as so many noble sons did. I wondered, very briefly, how I might have reacted to losing the chance at the suit. I doubted I would have shown his fortitude.

He nodded, saying no more. He turned to the other knights. Theo hefted a power sword, his armor pulsing with faint light. The men around him bore swords at their belts and guns in their hands.

Theo punched the console by the door. The doors slid open and suddenly the wind howled and the atmosphere hissed around us, ripping away from the pressure of the interior to the thinness of the atmosphere outside. I saw men stagger at the pull of the rush of air though my feet remained easily planted.

I knew doors were sliding open on other points of the Tower, brave and elite warriors preparing for the most perilous fights of their lives.

Theo paused, a grappling gun in his off hand. He scanned the knights who clustered around him. "For Boston!"

"Oooooo-rah!" An ancient cry from the time before.

"For family!"

"Ooooh-rah!"

"For the Oracle!"

"Oooooooh-rah!"

And they were gone.

Theo stunned me with his bravery. He leapt out, into the air, twisting and firing the grappling gun. Even as he did so the zipping and buzzing noises of max-Order weapons firing reached my ears. The assault had begun elsewhere.

Theo hung in the space. His bravery humbled me. If his grapple failed to land he was a long 16 seconds from death. The grapple gun exploded, smoke bursting from the barrel as the hook speared away. Theo fell further away, eyes fixed at a point above, power sword clenched. I watched him, falling away from me, the coils of the grapple line spinning from him.

Then the coils became a ruler's edge, straight and taut. His shoulder jerked as the rope stopped his fall with the opposite force of his momentum. A whizzing sound erupted and then he was gone, sailing upwards on the wings of the grapple's motors.

A moment later there were three more knights in the air, following his example.

The motors bore them away as well.

The next instant three more men leapt out. Two soared upwards, one fell screaming to his death. I should probably have been more concerned about the detachment with which I watched him fall. It pained me. It truly did. But it had been an affordable and expected cost.

The air was madness, bullets and energy pulses flying up and down. I dared not show my face yet. I listened, watched the streams of energy and listened to the screams and explosions.

I counted slowly. My time would come.

A man fell, contorting as he gripped his chest, his armor the black weave of the assault team.

A white-robed warrior followed, pale cloak fluttering in the gale-force wind. A Templar, knocked from his perch.

I kept counting to the agreed number. Well… almost…

There was only so long I could wait to make my appearance.

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