Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 22.1, 22.2

"Our carriage was stolen," Katarina announced.

Simon looked up at her. He paused mid-chew, about to force down a piece of stale cardboard masquerading as vendor stall meat. Starting to think supporting small businesses isn't worth an unholy war being waged against my taste buds.

The transmigrator took a moment to swallow and set his half-eaten breakfast aside, relishing the distraction – even if it had apparently been at the cost of their carriage. "Stolen?" He'd figured that Katarina hadn't come bearing good tidings, considering how she'd stormed towards his corner of the inn lobby, but still. "When?"

"As we slept this morning," she grumbled. "Just spoke to the man in charge of caravan storage. The very man, I might add, whom we paid daily to prevent this exact scenario from occurring. Didn't stop someone from infiltrating the premises and absconding with what was ours."

"How, though? I've got the Navigation Crystal stored inside my Inventory. The carriage can't travel without it."

"Which means the rogue brought their own Navigation Crystal, installed it into our carriage, then drove away like a bandit in the night."

Katarina adopted a humorless grin. "I did warn you that a truly industrious thief would not be deterred."

Simon fell silent, deciding how to feel about this development. A good chunk of their supplies had been stashed in that caravan – everything they couldn't fit within Inventory. The carriage itself, of course, was also prohibitively expensive. If he and Kat had been a legitimate merchant pair, this disaster could've financially ruined them for the rest of their days.

At the same time, even if they never saw the carriage or its stockpile again...did it honestly matter? They had plenty of supplies left in Inventory. Heck, they'd even managed to loot the bandits' hideout before it completely burnt down, essentially recouping their losses in advance.

However...

"Only one thing to do." Simon clapped his hands on his knees and stood up, an air of purpose about him. "Let's track down the thief."

Katarina lifted an eyebrow. "If you can. They're probably miles to the nearest city by now."

Simon shook his head. "Almost all of our food and rations were stored inside Inventory." He glanced at his unfinished breakfast, contemplated taking it with him, then thought better of it. "Unless the carriage thief brought their own provisions for a long journey, traveling outside the city would be a death sentence. It's more likely that they went to sell it at Caelryn's black markets."

She hesitated. "I suppose."

"You disagree with my reasoning?"

"No. It's just not the response I expected. While I am vexed at losing my first and only carriage, you've told me on numerous occasions that material objects are of little concern to our mission."

"Doesn't mean I'm willing to let people steal my belongings without reprisal."

Katarina frowned. "Are you aiming to Harvest the thief? If you need another target from which to gain EXP, I've got better miscreants in mind than a petty burglar who you might end up finding wholly sympathetic. What if they stole our caravan to...I don't know, feed the empty bellies of their ten starving siblings?"

"Sounds interesting." Simon grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure? Doesn't the prospect of going on a side quest make your heart stir with anticipation?"
"Going on a what?" Katarina narrowed her eyes at him. "You're acting very peculiar today. What's–"

"Kat." He breathed out a deep sigh. "We need a break."

She froze. "As in..."

"A break. A day off. Twenty-four hours where we aren't risking our lives and pushing ourselves to the absolute limit."

Simon put on a tired smile. "Help me look for a simple carriage thief. It'll be a nice change of pace from...everything."

From Armand Calloway, the bandit group, Uriel, and Henry. Simon could tell that the events of the last few days had taken a toll on Katarina. Shades from her past kept popping up to haunt her; little wonder that her emotional bandwidth was running precariously thin.

The effect was only worsened by the noxious aura of dread that permeated Caelryn like a thick fog. No one here could ever feel entirely safe. Proof of that was evident in the dark circles under Kat's eyes. She'd barely slept, and she seemed twitchier by the hour, as if residing in this city was dredging old paranoias up to the surface.

Not that she would ever admit it aloud – which is why it fell to Simon to suggest a brief respite. The time loss was unfortunate, but maintaining the mental upkeep of your teammates was a necessary facet of any long-term alliance.

And while this break was largely for her sake...he could use a day to clear his head as well.

Heroic Valor had seen to that.

Everything was fine before yesterday. Until then, Heroic Valor had been playing ball in Caelryn, giving him EXP where EXP was due, keeping its peanut-gallery comments to a minimum. The Trait approved of how he'd dispensed justice against Armand Calloway and the bandit group.

Yet it just had to specify that he hadn't earned bonus EXP for how he dealt with Henry. To judge the transmigrator – again – merely for addressing a complicated situation in the best way he could.

Should I have let Henry run free? Simon had demanded of Heroic Valor last night. Sent him back onto the streets with innocent blood still dripping from his dagger? Or what, forced a reconciliation between him and the daughter of the man he murdered? You should know that such halfhearted mercy is bound to fail.

[Most likely,] it had replied.

Then what's the goddamn problem?

[That if it wasn't for how his death might affect Kat, you would've instantly written him off. Didn't even want to consider alternatives.]

Simon scoffed. Waste of time. I have far more pressing matters to attend to than babysitting a killer's redemption arc.

[So you defaulted to burning him alive. Without hesitation. Gleefully.]

Heroic Valor metaphysical eyes had stared at him sadly. [That's why you'll never understand. The problem isn't the choices you've made, or erring on the darker side of a moral gray – the problem is you, Simon. Your mentality. Its coldness. Yes, you've produced results in Valtia. Saved lives, made a difference...]

The Trait averted its gaze, as if it couldn't bear to look any longer. [Yet this cannot last. Your atrophied heart will lead you astray one day. Until you recognize that, the problem will always be y–]

Simon pushed the memory away, his smile growing brittle. "So. Side quest?"

To his surprise, Katarina ended up agreeing almost immediately. She was even more worn down than he'd realized.

--

For a typical resident of Caelryn City, tracking down the carriage thief would've been borderline impossible.

Valtia didn't have camera systems, DNA evidence, fingerprint records, or any of the modern conveniences that aided with detective work. There was just eyewitness testimony – and good luck getting people to open up about what they'd seen without opening your pocketbook first.

Simon rendered all of that irrelevant. Every errant scratch, every suspicious marking was but one 'Identify' away from becoming a clue of vital importance.

Katarina couldn't read his Identify descriptions, so he kept her in the loop by describing his findings in elaborate detail. It was akin to narrating an audiobook...with some creative liberties taken.

Name: Roadside Indentation
Description: A shallow groove in the street of Caelryn City's lower district. Matches your carriage's top-left wheel. Indicates that the thief drove this way.

"We're on the right track," Simon said, gesturing dramatically towards the mark on the road. "Shouldn't be long now. Step-by-step we go, our quarry drawing nearer with each filthy, crime-ridden street that passes by. They think they've escaped us, eluded the hunter's net – but this trap was already sprung the moment they chose us as a target. There's no delaying the inevitable; not when the sins of the past are weighing them down like manacles forged in guilt."

Katarina glanced at the plain, unremarkable indentation. "...That's what Identify said?"

"Word for word."

She fought against the smirk playing on her lips. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"It's my day off. Would be inefficient if I didn't enjoy myself."

Simon tilted his head, motioning for her to follow. "Ideally, I'd like to go stand at the edge of a dangerously-high rooftop, brooding and monologuing about corruption as I gaze down at a wretched, forsaken city...but I'd also like to have all this handled by dinner, so let's not tarry."

Katarina didn't seem to have the faintest idea what he was referring to, but that didn't stop the tension in her posture from receding – if only by a hair. Enthusiasm begets enthusiasm. Soon enough, she was contributing her own bits to Simon's rambling, loudly wondering if the thief would be willing to 'beg forgiveness on his hands and knees'.

It was actually disappointing when their hunt yielded success after just two hours of searching.

As it turned out, their carriage had been pawned to a black market dealer within a sketchy back-alley of Caelryn's lower district. According to the merchant who'd purchased it, a desperate-looking man – roughly in his early thirties – had sold him the caravan at first light. The thief took the offered money and ran, scarcely haggling at all, prioritizing haste over a potentially more lucrative payout.

The merchant also refused to return the carriage to Simon and Katarina. He made a fair argument, stating that he had no proof they were the true owners...and that even if they were, carriages weren't cheap, and he'd paid a hefty sum for his latest piece of inventory. The most he could spare them was a discount.

Simon waived it in favor of more information regarding the thief. While they would need a carriage for when they eventually left Caelryn City, that wasn't happening anytime soon, and money was of no object when he could just shake down bandits for coin.

On that note, a small trio of robbers tried to mug them on their way out of the black markets. Three youths at Estimated Levels 3, 4, and 6.

An encounter barely worth noting – though it was amusing when Katarina interrupted the one-sided beatdown to lecture the youths on choosing proper marks. She sounded genuinely concerned that they would bite off more than they could chew someday.

"Examine your prospective targets carefully," she'd told them, like a teacher scolding unruly students. "If someone appears inattentive, they might simply be a fool...but they also might be so overflowing with mana that you're beneath their notice. I alone could have bested the three of you, and my companion here is stronger still. Were we less tolerant of mistakes, you'd be lying dead on the streets, and none would care to mourn your recklessness."

Sin Scry confirmed that the trio hadn't committed any worse sins than petty thievery, so Simon let them go with bruised pride and a valuable lesson. Kat didn't seem surprised with his decision. She knew him well-enough to infer who he'd consider a valid option for Harvesting.

The merchant's intel greatly quickened the pace of their hunt. Dramatic posturing aside, they really were closing on in the carriage thief. The tiny details analyzed by Identify became more fresh, more recent. They'd catch up to him by noon.

At least, that's what Simon had thought – until an unexpected discovery stopped him cold.

--

Simon's jaw dropped open. Not since the Ravenous Wanderer had he felt this much pure, unfiltered astonishment.

On his first night in Valtia, he'd come across a glowing Sanctuary Tree that probably saved his life. Its comforting yellow radiance warded off Fell creatures, and it had provided shelter from the Red-Eye Hunter before the Beast could inflict a premature end to his journey.

Now, in defiance of any notions of logic, thriving right in the middle of Caelryn City...was a Sanctuary Grove. Hundreds of glowing trees. Thousands. As big as a park, and as dense as a forest.

Even from a distance, their light washed over Simon like a warm hug. Soothing, reassuring, and a panacea to the worries of his soul. Its stark contrast with Caelryn's harsh atmosphere only heightened the effect. If there was any place in the city where a person could feel safe, it was here.

The sight was utterly breathtaking.

Although marginally spoiled by the contingent of soldiers guarding its entrance.

No less than thirty warriors had taken up position in front of the Sanctuary Grove. They sent nasty glares at anyone who inched too close or stared too long – prompting Katarina to drag Simon away before he drew unwanted attention.

"I..." The transmigrator opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words. "How? Why?"

"Right," Katarina began, assuming her role as Official Exposition Dispenser. "What you've just seen are known as Sanctuary Trees. They ward off Fell–"

"I know what Sanctuary Trees are," Simon croaked. "Saw one before. Slept under it."

Her eyes widened. "Not sure what's stranger," she mumbled. "That you chanced upon a Sanctuary Tree out in the wastelands, or that you weren't affected by it. Heard 'your kind' can't stand them."

Simon paused to calm himself. "So." He exhaled. "Sanctuary Trees are rare."

"Extremely."

"Yet there's a Grove of them in Caelryn City."

"Correct."

He grimaced, sensing an impending explanation that was going to ruin his good vibes. "How?"

"Piers Helmund ordered its creation," Katarina said, with a shrug. "He frequents Caelryn often. After he's done sating his curiosity in the lower districts, the Duke's son apparently likes visiting this Grove of his. Just sits there and takes in the splendor."

"That doesn't answer the question. If Sanctuary Trees struggle to grow in the wild, then how can they flourish in a city?"

The Severed Isles didn't have naturally-occurring rainfall. To sustain a grove this dense and luxuriant, it would require an exorbitant number of Water Artifacts – plus whatever else made the Trees unique. If they were capable of deterring Fell Beasts, then he doubted you could just add some water and sunlight and call it a day.

Katarina looked wistfully at the Grove, her face faintly illuminated by its glow. "With royal support, anything is possible. I'd imagine some of the tithe collected from the Mana Harvesters goes towards preserving this marvel here."

Not towards cultivating Sanctuary Trees out in the wastelands. Not towards setting up at least a couple Trees in each town and village, helping safeguard people from Fell Beasts and Demons.

No. The land's mana went towards funding a personal vacation spot for Duke Helmund's heir apparent.

Then again, even if they had the resources to spread Sanctuary Trees, why bother? Safety grants autonomy. Making individual settlements more secure wouldn't help Piers or the Duke. If rural, isolated villages are in constant danger of Fell threats, they're likely to turn to the royal family in their hour of need.

This way, Duke Helmund consolidates power – and his darling baby boy gets to feel extra special.

Simon took another moment to try and calm himself. I wish I'd learned this tomorrow. It's not like I wasn't already planning to depose the Helmunds. Been working towards that end, making consistent progress.

Or...am I not doing enough? Should I be out hunting monsters for EXP, even now? Is it an unconscionable waste if my every waking moment isn't dedicated to gaining Levels and advancing goals?

This was supposed to be my day off.

A nagging inch started crawling on his shoulders, worming its way up–

"You said the carriage thief was close?"

Katarina pulled him further away from the Sanctuary Grove, walking him down a random street. "Let's keep pushing ahead. Wouldn't want to lose track of him."

She grinned. "What was it you mentioned before? 'That vile ne'er-do-well must be shown the error of their ways?' You know, I'd like to have a word with him myself. Could've chosen any carriage in storage to purloin, yet he scampered off with ours! I am owed an apology for his rudeness."

The grin was forced, and so was her attempt at distracting him. Simon still deeply appreciated the effort. He let himself smile as Kat babbled on and on, crowding out his thoughts by filling his ears with nonsense.

Carriage thief today. The rest...tomorrow.

--

They located their quarry soon after.

His trail had led them to a particularly dubious area of the city. Few people visited this neck of the woods. Most had a stronger survival instinct than that.

Inwardly, Simon had hoped that the thief would turn out to be an unambiguous, card-carrying villain. Not someone anywhere near as reprehensible as Calloway – more of the boisterous, mustache-twirling variety. An obstacle they could confront without needing to take things too seriously.

What they found? Well, the impression Simon got was of an office worker who'd been forced to come in on Saturday. Overtaxed, overstressed, and at the end of his rope.

As a former retail employee, the transmigrator couldn't help but empathize.

Simon and Kat stationed themselves across the street, hiding as they observed the thief. They watched with muted awe as he botched what seemed to be an impromptu group interview.

Mr. Carriage Thief was chatting up a group of four rough-and-tumble men, presumably to win them over for some unknown purpose. The man's smile was charming, and he readily displayed a bulging pouch of coins...

Yet he couldn't hide the coiled tension in his shoulders. To the people of Caelryn's lower district, accustomed to sniffing out deceit like bloodhounds, he may as well have been wearing garish neon letters spelling 'I'm trouble'.

Identify corroborated Simon's theory.

Name: Bastian Evergray
Description: The venerable carriage thief you've been searching for. Stole it because he needed a lot of money, right now. Isn't having the best of days. In sore need of allies. Believes he's running out of time.
Estimated Level: 15

Level 15 is fairly high for a normal person, Simon noted. That's above anyone from the bandit group we just cleared out. Doesn't put him in the upper echelon of Valtia's fighters, but he would manhandle civilians with ease.

Though he still wasn't a threat. With Simon at Level 20 and Katarina at Level 14, they shouldn't have any problems subduing Bastian if necessary.

"He's losing their favor," Katarina muttered, as if critiquing a performance. "Showed the coin too quickly. Makes him appear desperate."

"He is desperate," Simon remarked.

"That's even worse. You never trust an urgent outsider. The man's threadbare garments may paint him as a resident of Caelryn, but it's obvious that he hails from elsewhere. His smile is too easy."

Sure enough, the four men were exchanging wary glances. They hadn't bought into whatever Bastian was selling. In fact, he'd unnerved them so much that they weren't even going to try relieving him of the money he'd so boldly presented – they just wanted out before everything hit the fan.

"Should Sin Scry him while I have the opportunity," Simon told Katarina. "Wake me if the trance lasts for longer than five seconds."

She nodded, covertly stepping in front of him. The transmigrator fixed his gaze on Bastian Evergray.

Sin Scry.

Five seconds went by.

Visions of another life came to an end.

Simon rapidly took stock of what he'd missed in the interim. The group of men were already leaving, abandoning Bastian to whatever fate he'd embroiled himself in.

They were wise to do so.

"Well?" Katarina whispered to Simon. "What did you see?"

Confirmation that we're never getting a real day off. Simon tapped his fingers on his thigh, still sorting out Sin Scry's revelations. If I'm not misinterpreting, then–

Bastian whirled around and looked directly at them.

Simon and Katarina hid their surprise as he immediately began to approach. The thief strolled forward with a cheerful grin and a pep in his step, weaving between the local passerby with nimble grace. He wore an expression like he'd spotted old acquaintances from halcyon days, seeming delighted to go meet and catch up.

Kat had been right; he never could've passed as a Caelryn City native. His clothes weren't shabby enough. His longsword's scabbard was too polished. His five-o-clock shadow was too cleanly-shaven, framed neatly on a face that wouldn't have been out of place in cologne advertisements back on Earth.

But most of all, he didn't have the eyes – the guarded, sunken-in look that characterized a longtime sufferer of Piers Helmund's stomping grounds. There was too much hope for the world left twinkling in his starry gaze.

If Simon hadn't already witnessed a very different kind of Bastian during Sin Scry, he would've believed the man was entirely genuine.

"Good tidings to you both!" Bastian greeted them with a raised hand, stopping just a few feet away. "Now, perhaps I'm mistaken, but I wager you two were observing me from afar?"

He chuckled dryly at himself. "Can't say I blame you. Must have been a farce to remember – bandits of Caelryn, so perturbed by my demeanor that they spurned a bag lush with riches. I thought an honest smile would smooth things over, but the folks here appear to be allergic to that sort of conduct."

Simon stifled a laugh at the word 'honest'. "What were you trying to hire them for?" he asked.

"Personal affairs." Bastian smirked. "Apologies, but your curiosity must go unsated. I only came over to speak because, in truth, you seem to have business with me."

And you tried to recruit a group of armed men before approaching us. Just in case. How long have you known we were watching? Did you realize someone was tracking you well before we even stepped onto this street?

It was an odd feeling to hunt someone who bothered to check if they were being hunted. Calloway had set the bar disastrously low there.

Simon hesitated. If he had more time, he could've reviewed his Sin Scry memories and tailored a specific response, manipulating Bastian into divulging information without giving the game away. But he hadn't quite parsed everything yet, and he didn't have the mental energy to bandy words with a conman.

Besides – in battle, no strike was more effective than the first. Capitalizing on the element of surprise was his specialty.

"You stole our carriage," Simon plainly stated, ignoring the glare Katarina sent him.

Shock flashed in Bastian's eyes before being ruthlessly suppressed. "Ah. Yes." He nodded. "I was afraid you were the ones. While it may serve as a cold comfort, I assure you that my reasons were–"

Motion.

Simon was on guard. Even if he hadn't been searching for this exact man for half the day, his time spent in Caelryn had permanently ratcheted his paranoia up by several degrees. The transmigrator was always ready for a fight to break out at any given moment.

He still almost didn't react in time to block the crushing blow aimed at his head.

Bastian had switched gears faster than anyone Simon had ever seen. There hadn't been a single hint that he was about to strike – not on his face, body language, or posture. He'd also quickened his attack by keeping his sword sheathed, opting to swiftly lash out with the blunt side of his scabbard.

The ambush would have succeeded just three days ago. Empowered by his recent bounty of Dexterity, Simon barely managed to draw his sword and block.

It wasn't an especially strong attack, yet it was fluid, already shifting into another maneuver when Bastian saw that his opening gambit had failed. The transmigrator jumped back, recognizing that he needed to create space lest he be overwhelmed.

Daggers sliced through the air. Bastian ducked under Katarina's reprisal and twisted around, using the same motion to swing his scabbard at her. The Arcane Rogue retreated as well, teeth gritting with frustration over her opponent practically having eyes in the back of his head.

Everyone stood still for a moment. Bastian kept his gaze locked on Simon, leaving his flank unguarded – No. A feint. He wants Kat to take the bait.

Simon grinned as a spike of adrenaline coursed through him. "You're skilled."

Bastian tilted his head. "You sound...pleased."

"It's a nice change of pace."

Armand Calloway had been a listless freak of nature imbued with pilfered mana. All power, no skill. Bastian seemed to be the inverse. Simon didn't sense much latent mana inside him, but his combat prowess indicated that he'd trained extensively and often.

It was a respectable path to walk. Bastian had endeavored to exceed his natural limitations. His lack of inborn mana meant that he'd likely reached his peak, never able to break through Valtia's glass ceiling and stand alongside this world's superhumans, but that hadn't stopped him from trying.

"Why the scabbard?" Katarina suddenly blurted out. "You should've drawn your sword. If we weren't who we were, that would've been an immediate deathblow."

Bastian laughed. "That was rather the point. Seeing as I am the guilty party here, I thought to leave you with bruises as opposed to lacerations, then escape to steal carriages another day...but it appears that my clemency has backfired."

He eyed them with an appraising stare. "What hole in the ground did you two crawl out of? I've studied up on the most well-regarded fighters in Caelryn City. Granted, I'm sure many lurk amongst the shadows, away from public scrutiny, yet you're certainly a cut above the average bandit fare. Mana flows within you like coursing rivers."

"Why, thank you." Katarina's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Looking to hire us instead?"

"If you're amenable."

She blinked. "You cannot be serious."

"I'm not one to let opportunities slip by. The two of you would make for much better allies than those four scoundrels I spoke with earlier."

He chuckled. "And more polite at that. You have my thanks for hearing me out. It's highly preferable to spilling my intestines onto the ground."

Simon stayed quiet, piecing a puzzle together in his head. Bastian didn't fully know it, but he was revealing a treasure trove of pertinent information right now.

"Don't tempt me," Katarina spat. "Need I remind you that you stole from us, then attacked in the midst of conversation. It's a miracle we haven't gutted you already."

"Precisely. You've afforded me a second chance, when I deserve none. Mercy is an uncommon quality to find in people these days."

Bastian peered around, checking if their corner of the street was empty and free of eavesdroppers. Any nearby bystanders had long since fled the premises, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire when a fight broke out.

"Five minutes," he murmured. "If I can't convince you of my plight within five minutes, then I shall submit to whatever punishment you deem appropriate."

Katarina glanced over at Simon. He nodded, signaling for her to keep the man talking.

"Very well." She tightened her grip on her daggers. "Just know that there won't be a third chance. You attack, you die. You run, you die. You try to ply me with silver-tongued shit? Guess what happens. I have a supremely low tolerance for liars and swindlers."

It's how the slaver band captured her and Gerold, Simon remembered. I hope Bastian realizes he's treading on thin ice. I'd hate to have to kill him before we get to the good part.

The man placed his scabbard back at his waist. "Thank you." He stood up straighter. "As you might have imagined, I stole your carriage to acquire a hasty surplus of money – yet not for reasons of base greed. This was a matter of life and death."

His fists clenched. "The woman I love has only hours before she is slain."

As far as sob stories went, it was a decent start. Simon had to admit that the man was a proficient orator. If he'd adjusted his appearance and demeanor to better-fit in with Caelryn, he could've tricked any number of people into an early grave.

"The two of you dislike Duke Helmund and his ilk," Bastian posited. "I say that as conjecture. I also believe it to be wholly true. As people born and raised in Caelryn City, you must feel the requisite loathing for nobles that any on the bottom rung of society do."

Katarina slowly nodded, gesturing for him to continue. She didn't seem insulted that he'd called her poor and unimportant. Until meeting Simon, that had been a basic fact of life.

"My partner and I decided to target a stronghold owned by the nobility. We sought to take what was theirs. Filch their valuables. Make them hurt. Reckless, maybe, but I promise you that we were thorough in our planning. It shouldn't have gone...how it did."

He furrowed his brow. "There were thrice as many guards there as predicted. Intelligence reports faulty. Don't know why. Unless Piers Helmund is arriving ahead of schedule? That dastard was supposed to be–"

A shadow passed over his gaze. "Regardless. We aborted the mission. Erred on the side of prudence."

Katarina didn't relax her combat stance, but she was listening attentively, somewhat taken in by the cadence of his storytelling. "What went wrong?"

"I did."

Bastian ran a hand down his face. "Got caught. Guard saw just a glimpse of me – yet a glimpse is all it takes, isn't it? We ran, and it was like fleeing from an avalanche of swords and arrows. They were unrelenting in their pursuit."

A note of disgust entered his tone. "So many men and women dedicating their lives to those who would spit on them for breathing the same air."

He composed himself as best he could. "My partner held them back while I fled. Had to be that way. She's a superior fighter to myself; I'd have been swept aside by the tide. Medea, the woman I love, told me that I simply wasn't enough to prevent her capture – and I could say nothing in return."

Bastian laughed, and it sounded like a condemnation aimed at himself. "There's no crueler thing in this world than to be rescued by your own weakness."

Katarina flinched. From what she'd said in the past, the Arcane Rogue had a bit of a complex about her prior inability to influence her own life. As someone who also used to be lacking in mana, she would naturally sympathize with those who despised the inherent constraints they'd been born with.

Is he doing this intentionally? Simon wondered. He can't know her past, but he's saying all the right words to tug at her heartstrings. Is it instinct? Training? Dashing good looks?

Charismatic people were patently unfair. Simon needed to wave a Demon arm around to command a room, yet Bastian could do it with fifteen sentences. While he couldn't persuade the four roughspun men from before, he seemed to be in his element when speaking to people more willing to hear him out.

"Medea is being tortured as we speak." Bastian had to stop himself from reaching for his sword. "Once they realize they won't glean any information from her about me, they'll slit her throat and toss her into the nearest gutter. Could've already happened. I'm out of time, and I've been out of time since morning."

"That's why you tried to hire those men," Katarina added. "To aid in your rescue attempt."

"Just so."

Bastian looked at each of them in turn. His stance was absolutely full of holes now, leaving him freely open to attack. "Help me. I'll give you my coin. My blade. The clothes off my back. Everything I own shall be yours. You can even cut off my sword arm as recompense. Or my head. Anything. I can't..."

His voice filled with sincere emotion. "I can't lose her."

Katarina flinched again, likely drawing parallels to her own quest to save someone she loved. Still, she refused to be taken in so easily. "You're leading us into mortal peril. What makes you believe we'll follow?"

"That you're good people. Those with black hearts don't give second chances."

He exhaled a ragged, shuddering breath. "And what other options do I have? There's no time to find another group willing to aid me. If my story isn't enough to sway you, then you may as well go ahead and gut me, because I doubt I'll ever forgive myself for what my failure has wrought on this day."

Kat was beginning to waver. Valtia's nobility hoarded the cure for her father's illness, so raiding one of their bases could give her a lead on locating it. Furthermore, Bastian's tale – the true and earnest love he held for Medea – was like a breath of fresh air amongst Caelryn's perpetual fog of malaise. Even Simon felt impressed by his showing.

After all, not many people could lie while telling the unvarnished truth.

The puzzle fit together at last. Every detail that had come out of Bastian's mouth was accurate. Yet he'd neglected to mention some...context.

Memories surged to the forefront of Simon's mind.

"Duke Helmund is responsible," the transmigrator had once said, weeks ago. "He's just a man – he can be stopped."

Relia the slaver had burst out laughing. "By all means. Join the Hurricane. Throw yourself at Helmund like the rest of those suicidal fools. It won't change anything. Might as well try summoning the rain while you're at it."

Then later, with Katarina.

"Helmund is akin to a god," she had said. The Fell Beast we fought here is a paltry existence by comparison. You wouldn't be the first who's tried and failed to unseat him."

"Others are trying?"

"Rebels in opposition to Duke Helmund. They call themselves The Hurricane. Their successes have been few and far between. Like flies that he swats when they start buzzing too loudly. If you join them, your fate would be the same."

Then the Sin Scry.

'Bastian. Killing a noble's guardsman. Saw him beat a vagrant to death for no reason at all. Righteous anger flared hotter than the sun.'

'Bastian. Storming a fortress along like-minded people. Slaughtering the soldiers. They far surpass his mana, but he has skill honed by purpose.'

'Bastian. Stealing documents worth more than any pile of gold. Setting the fortress aflame with noble officials still inside.'

'Bastian. Torturing a lapdog bureaucrat. Needles, corkscrews, heated iron. Extracting the necessary intel from her.'

'Bastian. Executing the lapdog after promising her freedom. She'd funneled beggars into the slave trade. No mercy for the inhuman.'

Today's heist-gone-wrong hadn't been a simple matter of two thieves trying to steal jewels and trinkets. It was a targeted assault meant to uncover more of Helmund's secrets. Just one small step in an expansive operation years in the making.

Bastian and Medea were members of the resistance.

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