When Heroes Die

“Now, now, don’t complain. I told you to trust me but didn’t specify what with. It’s not my fault you didn’t ask if I was about to throw you off the tower.”

— Dread Emperor Perfidious

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

I was unhappy.

If I was a dragon, smoke would have been trailing from my snout.

If I was only furious, then my life would have been easier.

Instead, I found myself sifting through a soup of emotions. Anger, pity, sympathy, compassion.

Escape. Everyone is against me. The world hates me. There is nobody I can trust, nobody I can turn to for assistance.

The girl let out another heaving sob into my robe even as she shied away from me. It was uncomfortable, but I’d put up with worse.

One look at her had been enough to disabuse me of the idea that she was anything like Lisa was. It wasn’t just her appearance that was different. I couldn’t imagine Lisa harbouring such dark dreams.

Her dreams were a dark maze of misery. A story of one girl against the world, where every shadow was the enemy and nobody could be trusted. I still wanted my pound of flesh, but claiming it would have to wait.

She… needed somebody in her corner first.

Even if I hated the fact that it would probably have to be me. This was what I had agreed to do when I had declared myself a priestess. I was the one who was going to care for those that nobody else was prepared to be responsible for.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” I whispered.

I let go of the filthy girl. She smelled like rotten eggs, old fish and a whole host of other pungent scents. She stood back up at her full height, the top of her head came up to my nose and her hair was a mess of matted black strands. Her clothes were torn, and I doubted she’d washed in days. She tried to affect a regal air, but in her current state was unable to pull it off.

I wasn’t sure which of the two of us had found the hug more uncomfortable.

Vengeance. Mine and mine alone. Nobody else can be trusted to dole it out. Justice for me and my brother.

“How did she end up like this?” I demanded. “I asked you to find her, not run her down like an animal.”

“S’not my fault,” Songbird protested vehemently, raising her palms in supplication. “I didn’t order this!”

Deep breaths. Don’t judge yet. Find out what happened first.

I turned towards two of the men standing outside the doorway. The dark haired, amber eyed one on the left towered over me with broad shoulders and muscles that I could curl up in. He had a pale bearded face criss-crossed with many scars that leant him a sort of rugged, handsome look that he otherwise would not possess.

Songbird snickered in the background.

The one on the right was shorter, with blonde hair and green eyes. Both of them were dressed for combat and looked vaguely familiar.

“Who are they?”

“M’not sure who the third guy is,” she pointed towards the third man — a balding skeleton who looked to be in his fifties. “But I hired those two to find her. They were prob’ly the best of the lot. Nine-sun duellists, the both of them. Cheapest too. When I mentioned who they’d be helping, they jumped at the opportunity.”

Ah, I remember now.

“Explain.”

They looked at each other like two naughty children caught stealing sweets, then turned their attention back to me.

“Your assistant requested for us to locate the girl but not engage with her,” the handsome one said.

“Sh-she ran into Michel while we-we embarked upon our search,” the one on the right continued.

“And we beheld her as dishevelled as she appears to be at present,” Michel added.

“Sh-she ran as i-if a dragon was trailing her at the time,” the other one finished.

“So you brought her here?” I pinched my nose. In part because of exasperation, in part because of the smell.

“The two of them rescued me from the stormy seas of fate. I would surely have perished were it not for their timely intervention. That villain is responsible for the state which I find myself in,” she pointed towards the skeleton in the black coat.

Michel lifted a finger and was about to open his mouth to reply, when the skeleton of a man cleared his throat.

“Fair tidings, Chosen. I, too, have business with our mutual acquaintance Adele de Anouilh,” he gestured towards the girl with his left gauntlet.

A faceless head, decapitated, lying atop a stack of books.

His dream made my skin crawl. Not because he wanted someone dead — there were plenty of people who wanted that — or because of the additional odd details, but because of how stripped of emotion it was. Everyone I had met to some degree or another felt something about their dreams. The Bard was like a raging inferno, Laurence was like a clear blue pond of clarity, Yvette was like a cosy, warm, fire.

This man’s dream was cold, clinical. It was almost as if he went through the motions of having a dream, because he believed that he should have one. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made me feel uncomfortable.

The Angels felt more human than his dream.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Louis de Sartrons and I come representing the Circle of Thorns. Ad-”

The two duellists withdrew as the man continued to speak. They didn’t leave my view entirely, but their actions made it clear they were removing themselves from the conversation.

“You should not trust a word out of this ruffian’s mouth. The man intends for me to disappear. Furthermore, I have renounced my family name. I am Esme, not Adele de Anouilh,” the pitch of her voice rose as she gained momentum. By the end of her speech, she almost sounded haughty.

I didn’t know anything about the Circle of Thorns, but I did know who might.

I turned towards Songbird. The pest was grinning like a loon while examining her nails.

“Well?”

“He’s prob’ly the real deal. Circle of Thorns investigates foreign espionage. Means your friend here is in lotsa trouble.”

“What’s going on ma I heard a lot of noise I-” Yvette’s voice cut off, she breathed in, then tried again. “What’s going on, ma? I heard a lot of noise. Is everything fine?”

“Everything is fine, Yvie, but I want you to stay in the parlour. No coming out, okay?”

I didn’t want her and Esme to meet again any time soon.

“Okay. I’ve made some progress on a design for my combined spell focus, but I can’t do much until I get my things back. I hope that you manage to catch the thief soon.” Her voice faded as she moved deeper into her room.

My eyes fell on the thief in question. I nodded my head at her slowly. A few moments later, and the only colour remaining in her cheeks was from the accumulated grime.

“You’re not planning to kill her?” I asked the man.

The man unnerved me. Maybe I was being unfair by assuming the worst of him, but a voice at the back of my mind was shouting at me that he wouldn’t hesitate to torture someone to get what he desired. It didn’t help his case that the victim in question was accusing him of running her down like an animal.

“I assure you that the Circle of Thorns is investigating her family’s business agreements and has no interest in holding her in any way accountable for anything at this moment in time.”

I bit my lower lip. It sounded all above board.

“Y’know,” Songbird intervened, “I like that phrasing. ‘At this time,’ it leaves the future open to interpretation.”

“Your uncultured ruffian’s assessment of his intent is correct.” Esme sniffed, folding her arms.

“Hey, I assure you m’plenty cultured. Why don’t the two of us take a trip downstairs and I can introduce you to all the culture y’don’t know about.” Songbird teased, making a rude gesture.

“Well, I never-” Esme started to huff once more.

I would be regretting placing myself in the middle of this if it weren’t for the severity of the situation.

“Enough. Right, I’m not turning her,” I pointed at Esme, “over to you,” I pointed at Louis de Sartrons.

“I would advise you against this course of action. You are interfering in a matter involving the security of the crown.”

“You can ask your questions of her with me in the room,” I replied. I turned my eyes back to Esme. “And I want my daughter’s belongings back.”

“The little arsonist responsible for torching a city is your daughter?” heat injected its way into Esme’s voice. “And to think, I believed heroes to hold themselves above-”

“Shut up!” I shouted over her. “She’s thirteen. She miscast a spell and people died during a revolution in Aisne. Blood was running down the streets, everyone was killing everyone else. There were no innocents that day. Furthermore, she did not burn down a city. She created an illusion of a fire, then a bunch of arsonists went and set the real thing.”

“Isn’t it convenient that one such as yourself exists to excuse the crimes of others? None face the justice they-” Esme began to retort.

I’ve had enough of this.

“What do you think you know? You’re a-” I felt the Angels tug at me in warning. I cut off the rest of my rant.

Spoiled rich girl, who’s lived her entire life in a fancy house and only just recently needed to spend some time on the streets. I can see your dreams. Those little lies you tell in order to make yourself feel better. Who are you to judge the crimes of a thirteen-year-old when you plot murder every day on your own?

I glowered at her, then breathed in and breathed out, allowing the red fog to fall away from my eyes.

Dealing with Esme was going to be so much more challenging than I expected.

“Y’know Esme, I’d suggest you work hard on making a better first impression. She’s the only person alive who cares about you at all.” Songbird looked meaningfully towards Louis de Sartrons and mimed cutting her throat.

The man looked faintly amused.

“I am not opposed to your presence Chosen while we conduct our interrogation. I assure you that not one hair on her head shall be plucked, so long as you wish her to remain unharmed.”

Songbird let out another choked snort. I was less amused. The implied threat didn’t sit well with me.

“Is there any other reason for you to be here?” I raised an eyebrow at the man.

He creeped me out, and I did not want him to be around for much longer.

“He’s the one in possession of your daughter’s equipment. He stole the pouch from me while I was attempting to escape pursuit.”

“That pouch full of oddities?” The man folded his arms. An amused smirk stole its way across his face. “Dear Esme, may I remind you that you dropped those baubles of your own volition, and they were not yours to begin with?”

“I want those all back,” I demanded.

“The Circle of Thorns has no issues with returning your material possessions to you. They do not concern us.”

An ugly suspicion wormed its way into my head.

I didn’t know if they had any sorcerers among them, but it would make sense if they did. They would have certainly found Yvette’s notes interesting if they had looked them over, and there was little preventing them from making duplicates. The problem was if they weren’t in the process of doing as much already, then by warning them not to do so, I’d be as good as informing them there was something that they would find intriguing.

I wasn’t sure whether I should risk warning them off the notes or not. The less copies of her notes that existed, the less likely it was that they would fall into the hands of Praes.

Ask Songbird about it later.

“Where do you want to interrogate her? I’m dealing with my own problems at the moment, and I’m not about to allow you to make use of my own space.”

“Two of my agents will remain downstairs. Your resourceful friend,” he tipped his head towards Songbird, “should be able to recognize them. Inform them when you have finished putting your own house in order, and we can arrange a date.” He paused, his lips curled up in distaste, “I advise you not to spend too long deliberating. Your daughter’s possessions will be returned during the interrogation. I bid all of you farewell.”

Louis de Sartrons bowed, then left. His boots echoed as he made his way down the wooden stairs.

I turned my attention towards the two duellists. They were lingering in the shadows outside the room.

“Why haven’t you two left?”

“Well, your compatriot hired me and Blaise on the condition that we could converse with you.”

The two of them both ambled back into the open doorway. Blaise had his arms crossed, Michel had his hand on his sword. The action did not look threatening, more like a matter of habit.

“Sh-she told us-s that you maintain an am-amicable relationship with the S-saint of Swords.”

I’d assumed that Blaise’s stutter had been because of fear. It didn’t really matter that he had a speech impediment, but I did feel some sympathy regardless.

“As if this dunce who abhors violence maintains a cordial relationship with one of the finest heroes of the age,” Esme interjected.

“S’pose you’re gonna keep doing your best to make friends with everyone, Esme?” Everyone except Songbird ignored her.

“I know Laurence.”

“The two of us wished to join your service as long term retainers.”

“At l-least until w-we have h-had the opportunity to cross blades with her in a friendly spar.”

“There isn’t much that’s friendly about Laurence,” I informed them.

It didn’t feel good to let them down. Both of them seemed nice, even if it appeared that they had a habit of not thinking things through.

“Her disposition does nothing to temper our ambitions.” Michel replied.

“I-it’s an op-opportunity for us to hone our skills.”

“Y’know, y’should let them come with. You’ll need plenty of assistants if your schemes bear fruit.”

“At least the two of them know how to properly comport themselves.”

“I don’t need bodyguards.”

“S’not about what you need, it’s about what people expect. If y’want to involve yourself in politics, then you need to look the part.”

Should I protest this? No. Songbird was right. I was going to need an entire administration staff for what I wanted to have done. A personal retinue was almost a given somewhere within that. There was no way I was prepared to manage anything larger than a small group if I was going to protest having an armed guard.

I wasn’t even opposed to them joining my retinue on principle.

My only issue was that Songbird had sprung this on me suddenly without asking for my input first. But… I knew that the larger the scope of my ambitions became, the more I would need to delegate and the less personal oversight I would be able to provide. It just surprised me that we had reached this point so soon.

“Fine. Since you started this mess, Songbird, you handle it.”

Songbird’s eyes looked from me to Esme, then she gave me a subtle nod. She started to retreat downstairs. The two of them shuffled behind her.

I turned to face Esme. It was just the two of us in the corridor now, everyone else was gone. She mustered up a haughty expression as if she intended to argue with me. I wasn’t prepared for it to go that far.

I’d much rather be helping Roland break into the Starlit Cloister right now than be dealing with this.

What was the best way to approach this? I wasn’t going to call her stupid — even if I was thinking something along those lines — Lisa had hated it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Esme did as well. Not that many people liked being called stupid, but… it was probably a sensitive point for her.

How about I disarm her? Yes, that would work. Stick to the truth and nothing but it. Tell her all the secrets I hold that most people are afraid of her learning about, so that she can’t use them against me.

“I’m afraid of you traumatizing my friends and family,” I admitted. “I want to have a stable relationship with someone, but I’m afraid to commit to one because I know that I’ll outlive whoever I have one with. The thought that I will live for potentially thousands of years and everyone that I care about will die before me scares me. I have a few other minor fears and doubts, but none of them matter to me more than those.”

Esme’s face became slack. Whatever she had been expecting me to say, that had not been it.

“What motivated you to seek me out?”

“I know your story. I know your Name and Role better than anyone else. It was the story of the best friend I once had in a different land many years ago. Songbird tried to set up the next part of your story to find you. Something went wrong along the way — I don’t even know what story you got caught in — and now we’re all here. You’re a villain. I know that you’re a villain. I’m offering you a chance at redemption. Trust me. I know it will be hard, but it’s worth it.”

“Your inability to recognize a fellow hero only proves your ineptitude. It is pitiful to see you project the feelings your friend once evoked in you onto another,” she sneered.

Well, doesn’t she have a stick up her asshole. I’ve spent the past few days comforting my daughter because of the trouble you caused, and then you come in here high and mighty acting like this.

“There are going to be rules if you want to have my protection,” I raised my right hand, palm facing towards her. What little sympathy I had, had more or less evaporated once more.

“I seek to right the injustices in the world,” she started to pace in front of me between the door into our suite and the entrance to my room.

Yeah, yeah, keep bitching. You’re just a worse behaved kid than Yvette. She’s an angel in comparison. I’m blaming bad parenting.

“The first is no murder, assault of both the physical and verbal variety, rape or torture,” I raised my index finger.

“Those who brought suffering unto me and mine shall reap what they have sown in turn,” her tone of voice raised.

It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself, then that she was trying to convince me of anything.

“The second is that you say nothing offensive to any of the people I care about, and that you keep away from my daughter,” I raised my middle finger.

“You shelter murderers in your shadow for no reason beyond misplaced love,” she shook her fist. I suspected it was supposed to look dramatic, but I was not impressed.

You’re no Black Knight, Warlock or even Revolutionary. You have conviction and nothing else. Even Songbird is scarier than you are, and Lisa would eat you for breakfast.

“The third rule is to follow orders when they are given. I don’t give them often, but if they do, it's to help you stay alive,” came the ring finger.

“You are no better than the other so-called righteous hiding away in the church,” she had stopped pacing and was glaring at me, her arms crossed sullenly.

I thought kids outgrew temper tantrums long before her age. What is she, sixteen to twenty? It’s hard to tell through all the dirt.

“The fourth rule is that we have secrets which I know you will learn through your Sin, and you will keep them. It’s futile trying to hide them from you, but you won’t be sharing them,” up came the pinky.

“What right do you have to deny me my vengeance?”

I hope the hero with Martin Luther’s story is not equally pathetic. I’m finding it really hard to care, despite knowing what she’s suffered through.

“The fifth rule is that we are all polite to each other and help each other out. You will be doing your fair share, just like everyone else,” up came the thumb.

“You expect me to perform manual labour?” she shrieked.

Out of everything I said, that was what got through to you?

“The door is downstairs if you aren’t prepared to follow my rules. Feel free to leave. Redemption means trying to be better. It means effort on your part, not mine. I’ll listen to your worries, I’ll offer advice, and in some cases I’ll even try to help if you want it.”

But I’m not a babysitter, I’m a priest.

She continued to rant a little longer, but she eventually agreed to my rules. I wasn’t surprised. Considering her rampant paranoia, I was her best hope.

Now I just needed to convince myself that this was a better decision than simply throwing her back out onto the streets.