Work Text:
Caleb’s tower is a masterpiece, of that there is no doubt. As Essek stirs from his trance, he wishes that there had been more time for him to look around, for him to speak with Caleb despite the mild frustration that still lingers after the conversation they did squeeze in. He wistfully gazes up at the closed iris several floors above him for a moment, then closes his eyes to remember the sight of the ninth floor as they floated in it. It’s a marvelous thing, a piece of Essek’s home and people when he is so far from most of it.
He nods to Beauregard when she stirs from her fitful sleep, giving him a suspicious look before she dozes off again. He does the same when Fjord stirs, and Fjord simply returns the nod before he settles back into sleep. The rest of the Mighty Nein are sleeping together in a pile, Yasha and Caduceus’ longer frames bracketing Jester. Somewhere outside, beyond the range of Essek’s vision even with the door open, Caleb and Veth are keeping watch. It makes Essek’s heart ache, unexpectedly.
He does his best to remain where he is, hovering above the floor, his sending stone cupped in his hands. Essek is not a man who prays, but he directs his fervent hope vaguely toward the Luxon, that his friends will get a full night’s rest before things kick off. By the Light, if anyone needs and deserves a solid night of sleep, it’s the Mighty Nein.
If the Luxon is a god, it either ignores him or simply does not hear him.
“Hey boss,” Dagen’s voice whispers into his ear, the stone cupped in his hands shaking ever so slightly to indicate its use. “We have a sighting. Party of five approaching. Keeping an eye on them. Should we engage?”
Essek rises from his seat and glides to the entryway before he’s made a decision. Waking both Beauregard and Fjord will not do much good, if they don’t agree on a course of action. He isn’t sure enough of where he stands with Beauregard and how she’ll take his question, whether she’ll rouse everyone to attempt some sort of roundtable vote. It isn’t something they have time for. Fjord, on the other hand, has shown himself to be pragmatic on multiple occasions.
This is why Essek shakes Fjord’s shoulder gently, keeping his voice low as he relays the message in case Beauregard should stir. “They are asking if they are to engage.”
Essek can see Fjord crunching the numbers in his head, gaze darting from side to side as he comes to his conclusion. “Yes.”
Essek relays the order to Dagen and lowers the stone to his side, leaning against the wall across from the spot where Fjord has been seated all evening. Essek has not seen this Lucien in battle, nor his companions, but he has never seen the Mighty Nein as shaken as when they’d fled to his outpost to escape these people. If accomplished adventurers, best suited to high pressure situations, are uncertain of their chances, then the rangers stand no chance.
Essek knows this. Fjord knows this. They have knowingly condemned good, talented scouts to die. They have condemned Dagen, who is fond enough of the Mighty Nein to follow their orders when he could have taken his money and escaped this entire ordeal.
“They have no chance,” Essek murmurs.
“No,” Fjord agrees, meeting his eyes. “But it buys us time. We are the only things between Lucien and that fucked up city. If we can just get another three hours…”
Essek holds Fjord’s gaze, not bothering to point out the obvious. There will not be another three hours. No matter how much faith Essek has grown to have in the rangers under his command and how much faith the Mighty Nein has in Dagen’s abilities, they will not last even a quarter of that time.
This tower will fall imminently. It strikes him as funny for a moment, brain catching on something about towers and fate and the fall of things before it’s gone again
So they wait, letting Beau continue her fitful sleep, and the rest of the party slumbers on. They wait for Caleb to dispel the tower from beneath their feet in complete silence, their eye contact finally cut off when the tower finally disappears, spilling them into the icy hallway. There’s no time to tell the others what they’ve done, in the rush to catch Lucien.
Essek can only watch as Fjord dives into the fray without hesitation, as he kills Lucien’s companion with utter brutality and declares war, as Lucien and his tabaxi companion disappear, as the remaining Tomb Takers are swiftly dispatched.
When the tunnel collapses before them, Essek thinks again of the metaphorical tower crumbling.
Fjord does not meet his eye as they begin to debate how best to clear the way and set about on their chase. Essek takes that as a tacit agreement not to bring up the sacrifice that won them their current victory. For now, they will quietly bear the burden of more deaths on their shoulders, and they will know that they can carry it to the end, whatever that may be.