Demonic Conqueror: Heroic Valor - Chapter 6

The moment stretched out into infinity as Simon stared at the two bound captives. His mind was a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions, a tempest of roaring fervor. Breathing was a struggle. If someone had asked him a question right then, he wouldn't have been able to speak.

None of that rose to the surface. None of it showed on his expression. An outside observer may have praised his commendable poker face, but no. It was merely that he felt so many things at the same time they were canceling each other out.

All that remained was a crushing tightness in his chest.

"Springwater Village won't purchase them," Ebris explained. He glanced at Simon, as if waiting for an outburst. When that never came, he continued addressing the other...merchants. "Rural villages take a hard stance against our profession. It affects them the most. And their coffers are barren, anyhow."

Simon's gaze hadn't shifted from the two captives. He kept running through scenarios in his head, imagining how he could save them. Summon a weapon. Cut the ropes. Hold off the merchants as the father and daughter ran.

Except his best weapon in Inventory was a broken sword, and he was the lowest-Level fighter here.

"That's a problem," Relia said, frowning. "Waiting until Caelryn City to sell them would eat into our profits."

"Why so?" asked Lucette. Lucette, who had invited him into her carriage. Lucette, who had cheerfully regaled him with escapades of Caelryn City. Lucette, who had offered him warm broth just minutes prior.

Relia pointed at the older male captive. "He's sick. Not sure what with, but he needs medicine – and more rations than normal. We'd have to use extra supplies on the trip there, then somehow find a buyer willing to take him off our hands."

I have the Glove of Minor Power, Simon thought. Plus my demonic arm. In a battle against four higher-Level opponents, that's worth...not enough. Not even close. What if–

"Let's just kill him."

Simon practically gave himself whiplash with how fast his head turned. The fourth merchant – Torben – had spoken up for the first time.

"Girl is young, healthy, pretty," the man remarked. "She'll fetch a high price. The father? Too old and frail. Damaged goods. No one'll want him as a workhorse. Keeping him alive is a sunk cost."

He patted the sword attached to his belt. "Cut the throat, leave the corpse. Give the Fell Beasts a meal so they bother us less."

Both captives made noises beneath the thick gags covering their mouths. The woman's gaze shifted from hatred and loathing to one of wide-eyed terror.

Ebris and Lucette exchanged a look. After a couple seconds of consideration, they nodded. "Very well," Ebris proclaimed. "I'll trust your judgement on–"

"Wait."

Simon didn't raise his voice, nor did he cry out in righteous anger. He spoke with a calm, collected tone, as if was disagreeing on which restaurant they should go to for dinner. "Is that necessary?"

Relia blinked at him. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Simon Cobblestone."

He threw out the name like a grenade for Relia to deal with, turning away from the woman as her expression twisted with shock. Simon faced Ebris, who seemed to be the nominal leader of their crew. "Killing the man is pointless. If you don't want to sell him, then just let him go."

Ebris shook his head. "Shouldn't do that." He had adopted the gentle, infuriating tone of a man explaining difficult truths to a boy who didn't know any better. "If he survives, he could return to exact vengeance on us. It's happened before."

"Wouldn't survive anyway," Torben interjected. "We aren't giving back his portable Orb. Beasts'll make short work of him."

Right. Fell Beasts. Without the protection of Warding Orbs, escape was likely to end in a visit from the Red-Eyed Hunter – or something even worse.

Which still might be preferable to what awaits them in Caelryn City.

Simon forced himself to nod at Ebris and Torben, as if that was the most reasonable stance he'd ever heard. "Okay, but that still doesn't answer why you're killing him. What's wrong with leaving the man be?"

"He'll cut into our supplies," Lucette replied, in a soft voice that made Simon want to scream. "Rations and medicine aren't cheap."

"Then let him starve."

They hadn't been expecting that. As the four merchants gaped in surprise, Simon shrugged, his shoulders aching from how tense they were. "If the man is a resource sink...just don't spend any resources. The problem will resolve itself soon enough. He and his daughter can live out their last few days as family."

He gestured towards the bound woman. "I'm sure she would be grateful to have additional time together. So grateful that she wouldn't cause any trouble whatsoever on the road to Caelryn City." The words almost prompted bile to rise up from the back of his throat. "A handful of generosity can buy an ocean of gratitude – isn't that right?"

Simon locked eyes with the woman, silently urging her to play along. Eventually, after several nerve-wracking seconds, she slowly nodded in assent.

"There you have it," he affirmed. "Leaving the man alive is a net positive for our crew."

Relia scoffed at him. "Our crew? And just who are you to–"

"Easy now," Ebris warned. "Emotions are running high. Let's revisit this when you and Simon have been properly introduced."

"I don't need an introduction to spot a two-bit charlatan." Relia's glare turned vicious. "What did he tell you? Ardyn's distant brother, I presume?"

"Cousin," Simon casually put forth.

"Ancient One take your soul, liar. Ardyn would've told me if he had a cousin."

A tiny bit of Simon's self-control irrevocably fractured. "I think there's plenty Ardyn never told you, Relia."

She stilled. "Like what?"

"Like how he lov–"

Ebris grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. "Lucette and I need to have a private talk with Simon." He looked at each person in turn. "Don't touch the cargo. We'll decide what to do with them later."

They led him to the other side of camp, outside of Relia and Torben's range of hearing. It was a short walk that lasted roughly a thousand years.

Once they'd picked a spot, Ebris and Lucette stood awkwardly side-by-side, facing Simon. They seemed to crumple under the weight of his unblinking gaze. "You have questions?" Lucette offered.

Simon said nothing. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet.

"Ardyn never told you," Ebris began. "About our method of trade, I mean. He wanted to keep you at arm's length from the business."

"You attack people." The words felt like they were being spoken by someone else. "You take their things. Take them."

Lucette answered immediately. "Yes. That's how we've survived."

She didn't sound guilty. It was just a statement of fact. If anything, the only thing she sounded concerned over was how Simon would respond.

Realizing that jolted him out of his fugue. You're acting irrational, he told himself. Gather intel. Assess the situation. Make plans. That's how you handle unforeseen dilemmas. Get to it, and stop wasting time.

"I assumed you were merchants." First step was to ensure they didn't excommunicate him. Had to talk normally. "That's what Ardyn led me to believe."

"We consider ourselves as such," Ebris clarified.

Titles like bandits and slavers thundered in Simon's mind. "Right." He tapped his pointer finger on his thigh. "For how long?"

"Fifteen years or so. Weren't always in the business, but it's given us a better way of life than anything before."

Simon started to wonder how many people they enslaved each year. That, multiplied by fifteen, would measure the extent of the unfathomable suffering they had wrought.

Stop it. Stop feeling so betrayed. Did you forget that the sole reason you draw breath is because you stole a name from a dead man? If you weren't dear cousin Cobblestone, you'd have ended up abandoned – or as their newest piece of cargo. They were never saints to begin with.

He knew that.

He...knew that.

So why...

"Do you need time alone to think?" Lucette asked.

Simon had no choice but to accept. He wasn't in any condition to navigate this conversation. "I do."

Ebris nodded. "We'll speak to Relia on your behalf. She's not usually so thorny as this. Ardyn's death has affected her deeply – a pain that I'm sure you are quite familiar with."

"Water under the bridge." Simon paused. "As for the father–"

"Not to worry. We don't see any harm in leaving him be."

It was an olive branch. They didn't care one iota about whether the man lived or died. Just whether agreeing would help Simon come around to their way of thinking.

One day to resolve this. The man had been in captivity for a day or two already. Relia and Torben wouldn't have fed him. Simon also knew full well how badly malnutrition and dehydration affected a person's body. If the man was ill on top of that...

One day. At most. After that, he might be too weak to recover.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." Simon gave them a stiff thumbs-up, then moved to walk away.

"We'll be here if you need to talk," Lucette said. Another bright smile was decorating her face.

Simon bit back a hollow laugh. Just half an hour ago, their kindness had warmed his heart.

Now it simply burned.

--

Both carriages soon turned in for the night. Ebris thought it best for everyone to cool down, catch some sleep, and then tackle the next day with refreshed mindsets.

It took immense willpower for Simon not to sneak over and try freeing the captives.

His attempt would have failed. The slavers were alternating watches throughout the night. To ensure that the captives survived, Simon would need to steal a portable Warding Orb, gather enough rations for two people to subsist on for at least a few days, and then remove their bindings. All while not being seen or heard. When he had absolutely zero proficiency in stealth.

Impossible.

That cold logic did little to prevent the alluring call of 'What if...' from replaying in his mind, over and over and over.

Needless to say, he didn't sleep a wink, laying pensively on a cot inside Ebris and Lucette's carriage. His time was instead spent on devising a plan of action that might realistically succeed.

It didn't take long. Steps naturally fell into place as the moonlit night passed by, like puzzle pieces that were meant for each other. No other plan he could envision possessed the slightest hope of succeeding.

However, it was predicated on an all-important question. One that he was still figuring out.

Why is Identify so inconsistent?

Simon believed that there was no such thing as a perfectly impartial analysis. Aside from 'hard science' disciplines like mathematics, everything was open to interpretation. With the right name, an unknown vagrant could become a fast friend. Slavers thought themselves merchants, and villains thought themselves heroes.

People couldn't even agree on the sanctity of a life.

So he couldn't entirely fault Identify for being inconsistent. It didn't need to tell him an object's whole life story. Just a smattering of relevant information would've been greatly appreciated.

Such as warning him a bit more clearly that he was traveling with monsters.

But it wasn't always like that. Identify had informed him that Stuart's meat was toxic. It could predict the remaining lifespan of a Warding Orb. The bizarre properties of the Red-Eyed Hunter had been plainly revealed to him – no problem.

What was different this time? Why hadn't it revealed who Ebris, Lucette, and the others really were?

Hours later, he'd finally come up with a hypothesis he felt confident in. The answer seemed simple yet complicated, and it would influence how he utilized Identify moving forward.

Fact: Identify could provide information that Simon was completely unaware of. This had been confirmed on numerous occasions. Simon couldn't have known precisely how long a Warding Orb would last, or that one of Kirkelas' titles was the Sealed Demon of Ruination. Those details were too specific.

Fact: Identify had never told him anything that, theoretically, he couldn't have guessed himself. Even if the guess was one-in-a-million. Sure, it'd informed him that a nondescript glove was actually an Artifact of power...but he'd been looking for weapons and tools at the time. And a title like 'The Sealed Demon of Ruination' was just a string of words that sounded appropriately diabolical. With a run of exceptional predictive luck, he wouldn't have needed Identify at all.

Hypothesis: Identify's output was directed by his own biases and assumptions. It focused on whatever key details he thought would be the most crucial to learn.

If he was concerned that Stuart's meat was inedible, then Identify might confirm that guess for him. If he believed that a Fell Hunter possessed unnatural abilities, then the Skill might inform him of those abilities. It could even throw in some freebie info, like explaining how the Sanctuary Tree used to be part of a larger grove, as that was still related to how confused he'd felt over finding a lone tree in the middle of a wasteland.

But it didn't tell him that Red-Eyes would flee at the sight of his demonic arm. Simon hadn't considered that as a possibility at all. Although seemingly omniscient, Identify couldn't create a brand-new interpretation of the world for him.

And what had he thought when he first saw Ebris and Lucette's carriage?
'It resembled an old-timey caravan that settlers would've taken on the Oregon Trail, or that merchants used in the games he'd played.'

Settlers. Merchants. Quaint concepts with harmless associations. Their clothes had only reinforced the notion of them being respectable folk. People he could treat with a normal amount of caution.

The idea of them being bandit slavers had never crossed his mind.

Thus, Identify rolled with his interpretation. While it couldn't present outright false information, it also didn't need to correct anything, as technically, he hadn't been wrong. These were indeed merchants...of sorts.

My fault. Simon grit his teeth. If I'd been suspicious of their true activities – even just a fleeting thought – then Identify probably would've warned me. I got lured in by smiling faces, veneers of compassion, and a hot dinner. Didn't look below the surface. Didn't want to.

To be honest, he was surprised at himself. Judging a book by its cover was a rookie mistake. He'd been disappointed enough times by people to know better than this.

In a flash, Simon jolted upright, the thought echoing in his mind. Disappointed.

Hmm.

Before doing anything else, he glanced at Lucette, sleeping soundly in the corner. Identify.

Name: Lucette Drenoka
Description: A merchant of sorts. Armed, dangerous, and won't hesitate to defend herself. Views family as sacrosanct, and those outside the family...not so much.
Estimated Level: 8

Exactly the same. Apparently, one of Identify's quirks was that its Descriptions wouldn't update after being used. Or maybe there were hidden conditions to update it that he wasn't fulfilling? Either way, he couldn't use it to gather new information about the slavers, who'd all been immediately subjected to Identify when he met them.

But the slavers weren't the only people here.

Doing his utmost not to make a sound, he crept over to the side of the carriage interior. Simon gently cracked its door open, peeking outside.

The second carriage belonging to Relia could be seen on the other side of camp. She was on guard, watching the captives in case they managed to untie themselves and make a run for it. The captives themselves were still bound with ropes, lying motionless on the caravan's floor.

And luckily, they were in view through a small window on the side.

I'd rather not be disappointed by people again so soon. What he discovered wouldn't change the first half of his plan, but the second half...

Well, it would be nice to know if he'd been sticking his neck out for secret serial killers or something. Wasn't too late to pivot.

Identify.

Name: Katarina Cartier
Description: Fled from Caelryn City to seek a better life. Partially for herself – but mainly for her father. May end up returning in chains. Refuses to give up hope. Over the years, she has grievously injured one person in self-defense, but has never killed.
Estimated Level: 5

Name: Gerold Cartier
Description: Fled from Caelryn City to seek a better life. Partially for himself – but mainly for his daughter. Things were looking up until a slaver caravan found them on the road. Over the years, he has killed three people, all of them in...mostly self-defense. He regrets the more violent times of his life. If left untreated, his illness will prove fatal.
Estimated Level: 3 (13 when healthy)

A daughter and a father, two souls bound by blood, supporting each other when no one else could. Both had endured harsh times up until now. One had killed – but in self-defense, and he seemed to be trying to leave his past behind.

That was more than good enough for Simon.

He was just about to close the door when the young woman – Katarina – opened her eyes.

She stared across the camp, her intense gaze drilling into his. It was a look that rang louder than any scream. Without speaking a single word, she beseeched his aid, pleading for him to come over and help them escape.

Guilt pierced Simon's chest as he gingerly shut the door. It stung, but his plan wasn't ready. He couldn't do anything for them.

Yet.

He peered at another section of Ebris and Lucette's carriage, locating his target among the cluttered items.

Identify.

--

The next morning was a quiet, uneasy affair.

Ebris and Lucette tried their utmost to smooth tensions. They greeted everyone with wide smiles, formally introduced Simon to Relia and Torben...then grimaced as their efforts fizzled out like embers smothered by a wintry snowstorm. Torben remained silent, and while Simon exchanged several terse words with Relia, that was all.

It was for the best. Speaking with Relia would've invariably led to her questioning his supposed relation to Ardyn. Simon had prepared answers and stories over the past night, but the simplest way to pass an interrogation was to avoid it entirely.

And it wasn't like he had any comforting platitudes to offer her, either. Not if he wanted to be honest about how he felt.

'Ardyn? Yeah, he got what was coming to him. Those who live by the sword die by the sword, and those who enslave others shouldn't be surprised when karma arrives in the form of an oversized rodent. Besides, Stuart – that's what I call the rat, we're close – did everyone a favor by munching on that expedition. If Ardyn had actually made it to Caelryn Cave, he would've reached the bottom and found the Sealed Demon of Ruination. Probably sets Kirkelas free for some pocket change and a pat on the back. Anyone with the poor judgement to fall in love with you would totally make a deal with a devil.'

Some opinions were better left unsaid.

Ebris made breakfast for them. More broth. It was objectively delicious, and tasted like sandpaper on Simon's tongue. He ate it anyway to keep up appearances, acutely aware of Katarina glaring holes into the back of his skull.

Her father was struggling. Gerold's eyes had lost their vigor, as if a milky haze was clouding his mind. Without food or water to sustain him, the man's illness was worsening by the hour.

Simon did nothing. He merely went back to his cot alone, gathered what he needed, and bided his time.

The carriages set off again. At some point they passed by Caelryn Cave. According to Ebris, it would be another two days or so until their procession reached Springwater Village. Relia had argued that they make a pit stop there; obviously to verify that Simon really was a resident, or expose him if he wasn't.

Simon saw no reason to disagree. Matters would be settled long before then.

At noon, their dual caravan stopped once more. Time for lunch. Lucette's turn to cook.

She was just about to begin when Simon approached her.

"Hey." He put on a hesitant, embarrassed tone, as if he'd been working up the nerve to speak all day. "Sorry for...sorry. Mind if I handle lunch? You guys keep making meals for me, and I haven't returned the favor, and...yeah."

Lucette's smile was so broad that it outshone the midday sun. "That sounds delightful," she answered, seeing his offer as an attempt to mend bridges. "Doesn't need to be amazing. Whatever you can manage is fine."

Simon did just that, largely copying the recipe he'd watched Ebris make at breakfast. Less chance of cooking something that people wouldn't eat. The main difference was that he went somewhat heavier on the spices – enough to mask the flavor, but without raising eyebrows. That was important.

The four slavers ate without complaint. So did Simon. Ebris was sitting closest to him, while Lucette had positioned herself partway between him and Relia to act as a social buffer.

He waited until everyone was halfway finished with their food before speaking up.

"I'd like to know more." Simon faced Ebris and Lucette, assuming a neutral, non-judgemental tone. "How did your crew start up? When did Ardyn join?"

Ebris nodded, seeming pleased that he was asking. "As I told you yesterday, we joined together fifteen years ago. Ardyn was a founder." He scratched his chin. "I suppose we began much like any other merchant crew does – by identifying a market that needed filling."

"You weren't born into the trade? Or inducted into it by force? Or–"

"It was our choice, Simon." Ebris winced, buried memories flickering in his expression. "If you knew the trials we'd endured before...it is no exaggeration to say that this was our salvation. As someone hailing from Springwater Village, you should be well-aware of the struggle that we commoners face."

Two more commoners struggled behind him, writhing in their bindings, days away from being sold into a living hell – or just murdered out of convenience.

Simon took a second to compose himself. Frontal assault won't work. He would never convince them to upend their entire way of life at the drop of a hat.

Attack from the side. "I think that these two people are not unlike us," he remarked, gesturing towards Katarina and Gerold. "What if you went after people who were – for lack of better phrasing – more deserving? Like unrepentant murderers, or–"

"Other slavers?" Torben interrupted. His fellow three 'merchants' flinched at the title, like it was something they'd agreed not to state so directly. "Would bring trouble on our heads," he continued. "You don't go after people that deserve it. You go after people that won't be missed."

"Oh." Simon tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl, letting out a bit of pent-up energy. "And you're happy with...being you?"

Lucette quickly chimed in, cutting off what Torben was about to say next. "Before forming the crew, we all walked different paths in different cities. None of our old vocations proved fruitful. Everyone here knows what it feels like to starve."

A sharp edge entered her voice. "There simply aren't enough opportunities for lower-caste folk. Either you find a way to pander to the ones with coin, or you live in filthy, run-down hovels, eking out a miserable living in the hope that tomorrow will be less of an unrelenting slog. I can't go back to that, Simon. I won't. Not after experiencing what it means to be free and live well."

She exhaled, pointing at Simon's bowl. "The meals you've enjoyed these past days wouldn't have been possible without our business."

"Then why feed me?" he snapped. "I'm sure I'd fetch a fine price." It wasn't the right thing to say, but he couldn't stop himself. "Why not tie me up like those two?"

"Because you're family," Lucette replied, without hesitating. "Ardyn's blood is our blood. When we first joined together, we made a vow to protect each other no matter the cost. It is an immutable law we hold above all others. The world may crumble, but we shall stand strong – as one."

He forced himself to relax, integrating that new tidbit of knowledge into his plans. Was wondering why they were giving me so much leeway. They take the 'found family' thing even farther than I realized.

Familial loyalty. An admirable quality.

And a prime weakness to be exploited.

"That...sounds nice," Simon replied, as if contemplating the pros and cons. "How much do you get paid per–"

"You aren't joining us," Relia spat.

"Relia," Lucette admonished. "He's–"

"He's angling to release the cargo. Don't you see it in his eyes? This fraud of a Cobblestone will shake our hands, swear our vows – then let easy gold walk free like he'd tossed coins down the gutter."

Ebris frowned at her. "And we'll be there to stop him," he said, admitting that he was aware of at least part of Simon's plan. "The boy is young. He doesn't understand just yet. Remember that it took us some time to grow accustomed to the business as well."

"But why bother with him? Even if you're willing to overlook his duplicity, he doesn't need to stay here and ruin a good thing. He can just go back to being a beggar at Springwater, or whatever he was."

"You've answered your own question. A member of our family – because that's what he is – deserves better than hunger and poverty. I want to give him a comfortable life while we still can."

Simon blinked. "...While you still can?"

The four slavers simultaneously averted their gazes. None of them could look him in the eye.

A solid five seconds had gone by before Ebris sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Tell me, Simon – did the land around Springwater used to appear more vibrant?"

He had no idea, though the context was clear. "I think so. It's tough to remember everything from when I was a kid, but I'm pretty sure there was more green back then."

"Just so. This may be difficult for you to believe, yet when I was a child, plants weren't so uncommon as this. When my father was a child, there was even more. When his father was a child...you see where I'm going with this. As the years go by, our land shrivels like fruit baking under the sun. Only one conclusion can be gleaned from this pattern."

Ebris laced his fingers together, his legs twitching with repressed emotion. "In three decades or less, all life on Valtia's Severed Isles shall be depleted."

Simon froze. For a brief moment he forgot about the plan, his mind filled with visions of empty towns and overflowing graveyards. He knew that the purpose of transmigration was to rescue doomed worlds, but hearing a line like that from a Valtian native...kinda hit different.

"Hold on," he said. "Maybe places like Springwater will disappear, but I thought cities like Caelryn were–"

"Surviving. For now. They choose to ignore what is already transpiring at distant villages, as that is their luxury. By the time this pattern reaches them, it will be too late to reverse it. Duke Helmund will have drained the Severed Isles of every drop of mana and life."

Duke Helmund. The same ruler that Kirkelas had blamed for Valtia's decline.

Apparently, the Demon had been truthful about that much.

A wry, humorless grin inched up Ebris' face. "Few people would agree with my conclusion. Openly, at any rate. It is far too harrowing for them to accept. Yet...notice how my compatriots do not raise their voices in dissent. Us four have traveled far and wide while conducting business, and we've witnessed what is happening to these lands with our very own eyes."

His gaze deadened to a look of sunken fatalism. "The pattern cannot be ignored."

Simon recalled something that Voice-In-The-Sky had foretold. Both an explanation...and a premonition.

'Without its champion's strength, all life on Valtia shall vanish within the span of one year.'

Ebris was right about the impending apocalypse. He'd just gotten the timeline wrong.

"Your heart breaks for them," the slaver continued, pointing towards Katarina and Gerold. "I understand. We were like you, once. You imagine the pain they will suffer, and seek to rescue them from their fate."

He shrugged. It seemed forced. "But what does it matter? They'll be dead in decades regardless. The man's best years are behind him, and even if the girl escaped, she wouldn't live a full life before everything falls apart. They're worth more as a bag of coins with which to ease our burdens."

Simon clenched his fists. "Nothing is certain. You said that Duke Helmund is responsible. He's just a man – he can be stopped."

Relia burst out laughing. "Just a MAN? By the Ancient One, you are confident in yourself. I'd be envious if it wasn't so absurd."

She waved a dismissive hand at him. "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."

Looking from person to person, Simon found only stares of pity reflected back at him. They believed he was naive; an uncut stone in the midst of being tempered by the harshness of reality. Without evidence to the contrary, his assertions were seen as no more than deluded ramblings.

And even if he told them everything he knew...even if he suddenly shot up to Level 1000, teleported to Duke Helmund, and assassinated him on the spot...

They still wouldn't change their ways. Not when it had benefited them for so long already.

Their fatalism was real and genuine. That didn't mean it wasn't an excuse.

"You can't care for everyone, Simon," Ebris said, his voice low. "Pick some people – then hold onto them with all you've got. Forget the rest. They aren't your concern."

Simon's posture sagged. "That's just how it is?"

"That's just how it is."

Of course.

He could trick a god. He could defraud a Demon.

But he couldn't teach empathy to those who failed to comprehend its value.

Ebris lightly coughed into his hand. Like a flipped switch, Simon sat up straighter. The signal had been given – it was time to get this show on the road.

As if things could have ended any other way. He'd known they wouldn't listen to him. From start to finish, this whole conversation had been an indulgence on his part. It wasn't necessary for the plan to succeed.

Yet...he'd needed to try. Ebris and Lucette had earned that much from him.

"For what it's worth, I agree with you on one thing." Simon softened his tone. "No one can save everyone. Even if you don't go out of your way to hurt people, we're still bound by our inherent limitations. Give one charity a hundred dollars, and that's money you can't donate to another. Kindness is often a zero-sum game."

He glanced over. "And at the end of the day...we all need to make a choice."

Ebris was in the middle of replying when a summoned longsword slashed his throat open.

--

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