When Heroes Die

“Sixty. A hero’s efforts will bear fruit like the yield of a crop. The more you toil, the greater the harvest. A wise hero plant many seeds in the hopes that one day there is much to reap.”

– ‘Two Hundred heroic Axioms’, author unknown

I took the time to review all the invitations I had received at our customary table. There were many, but for now only three mattered.

“Which should I accept first?” I asked.

I was assuming I should accept Quentin’s invitation. It was better to ask and be sure.

“Y’should accept Quentin’s first. Y’know, you need to learn about the three of them before you commit. He has the most direct power.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what would be inferred about my allegiances were I to choose one of the other two. That didn’t mean I couldn’t make a guess. Better to go with the obvious choice first, even if none of them had made a good impression on me.

“It’s a private dinner. Scheduled for tonight.”

“S’pose I don’t need to tell you not to kill him?” Songbird asked rhetorically from my right.

“You don’t.” I looked up at the overcast sky in thought.

Ominous grey clouds rolled overhead. I suspected a storm was approaching. The rustle of a strong breeze tore green leaves loose from trees and sent them tumbling through the air.

I marked the invitation to a private dinner as accepted, then passed it across to Songbird. “Make sure Quentin receives it.”

“Not a problem,” Songbird mimed a mock salute.

“Should I approach other nobles in the meantime? Nobles who haven’t invited me, or where the date of invitation is some time away?”

The answer was almost certainly no, but it was best to be sure.

“Definitely not,” Songbird stated firmly. “If you do, it puts them in the position of power. S’pose a hero wouldn’t care. But that’s not what you’re trying to do here, is it?”

That was what the issue came down to. I could try to solve this like a normal hero. I even suspected I knew which story would win. It wasn’t one I was willing to accept. The safe option would be leaning into the Princess story. There was nothing stopping a hero from ruling over a Principality. There were no historical examples I could think of, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

The issue was that I knew exactly how out of my depth I would be.

I was trying to find a different story. A story based around the idea of reformation. Gradually rebuilding the old order into something better, rather than tearing it down. While I agreed with the revolution that something needed to be done, their approach would not fix anything at all.

“How’s progress on the revolution?”

The question was stupid. I blamed my general exhaustion for the mistake. We had only just woken up.

Songbird looked at me mockingly. “Taylor, S’not even been a day. M’not that capable. Give me time to organize. Same goes for Yvette.”

“Can I help in any way?”

“Y’can provide us both with some things. Then trust us to do our part. S’why we’re here, remember?”

She was right. That didn’t make it any less frustrating. I hated feeling like I was useless.

“Do you have enough people for this?”

Songbird grimaced. “Barely. We’re scraping by.”

I turned to Yvette. She was seated to my left and still looked tired despite having a night’s rest.

“Do you think you could set up a ritual to amplify my voice if I helped you with it?”

She would still need to cast it. There was nothing stopping me from assisting with everything else.

She looked at me balefully. It was like seeing a cat puff up its fur.

“I’m already working on one hard project now you want me to do this I mean we probably can but it’s not going to be easy and why do you even want to talk to everyone at once anyhow?”

“I want to talk with the revolution,” I admitted.

What went unsaid is that talking to them all at once made for a more impactful story. I wasn’t sure if I could de-escalate the situation by talking alone. If I was going to try, I needed to go the distance.

“Well it’s not a ritual I can set up quickly even with your help so forget having it happen today it’s going to have to wait until after I’m done with the tracking magic.”

“I could prob’ly ensure one of them gets a message,” Songbird interjected.

“Don’t think it will help. They will throw it away.”

“S’pose they will. Doesn’t mean s’not worth trying.”

I thought about it. It wasn’t as good as me giving a speech, but it wasn’t an attempt at a speech either. That road would still be open to me later on.

“Please do,” I affirmed. “See if you can pass on my concerns to some of their leaders.”

“Doubt they’ll listen.”

“I know. We should still try.”

Songbird shoved a blank piece of parchment and a quill across the table. “Write what you want to say. I’ll make it happen. It'll take some effort, but with last night’s lead it should be workable.”

I started to write.

The biggest problem with trying this was that I suspected that I had nothing I could offer them. The more measured parts of the revolution likely wanted to remove the current rulers. I could do that. It was something I was already working on. They probably wanted to do it themselves.

Removing the current rulers wouldn’t help if they had nobody to put in their place.

The food shortage was an issue the revolution had created on its own. The nobility had certainly made the issue worse. Removing Quentin would hopefully mean that the next noble didn’t simply try to hike up exports. None of that undercut the elephant in the room. If the granaries hadn’t been burned down, the issue wouldn’t be there to begin with.

I had no doubt that it was done deliberately.

“Y’not trying to negotiate with them at all?”

I didn’t think the parts of the revolution that wanted to burn everything to the ground could be reasoned with.

“Taylor can you look over this I’m not sure if I should be using ink or wax as the catalyst it changes the ratios-”

“Just a moment, Yvie.” I interjected. “I’m not,” I confirmed. “They are in the wrong. Both the nobility and the revolution.”

“S’pose you’re looking for some fabled middle ground?” she stated dubiously.

I gave her a flat look. “No. Both are doing the work of Below. The middle ground between wrong and wrong is just more wrong. It’s like the revolution saw that one problem existed and decided it would be fun to make twenty more.”

The revolution had understandable reasons for their anger. That did not change the fact that in the long term, their actions were quite literally harming more peasants than the nobility were. They had lost all right to pretend they were the lesser evil when they did more damage than their opposition.

I knew I would be bad at leading a rebellion.

It was still easy for me to do a better job than burning it all to the ground.

“S’not what I expected to hear from the girl who talks for the peasants.”

“I doubt most of the peasants want this. Starvation doesn’t discriminate between peasants and nobles,” I replied. “I can’t reform an extremist movement if they don’t want to reform. All I can do is ask them to consider the long term consequences and then hope they come to the table.”

There was no way this letter was not going to be consigned to a fire. But better to try and fail, then not try at all. I took a few minutes to finish scribing my missive. I passed the final message to Songbird.

“I’ll have my people make the wording more appropriate.”

Now I needed to work out what to do. Everyone else had tasks planned for the day. I was the odd one out. I took a moment to help Yvette with her problem before asking the question.

“What should I do today?” I tapped on the letters beside me meaningfully. “I can only attend one tonight. That leaves me with nothing else planned.”

“Y’should prob’ly relax. Y’need a break.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Wasn’t suggesting it.” Songbird reached across the table and prodded at an unread missive.

I reached towards it curiously. It was from the House of Light. Biting my lip, I took a moment to read over the contents. It was something I’d easily be able to fulfil, and would have no issue with doing. I'd definitely help out.

What surprised me was that Songbird had suggested it. She didn’t seem like the type of person who would propose I set my foot near the clergy.

“You think I should do this?” I asked hesitantly.

“Definitely.”

“Why?”

“You’d enjoy it,” she declared. “For anyone else, that’d be a chore. The happiest I’ve seen you is after you help people. You have this big smile. That letter counts. It’s easy to do.”

I looked down at the letter again. It was a request for me to help out at one of the local chapters of the House of Light. There were many more injured than normal. That was entirely unexpected considering the circumstances.

“You think I’d enjoy this?” I repeated dubiously.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re right. I enjoy helping people. But I don’t like seeing people injured. Worse, I certainly don’t like knowing that they will likely be back only a day later.”

That didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. It was still the right thing to do.

“Trust me, Taylor,” she said, her voice serious for once. “I know that you will enjoy this.”

“Should I ask them to help out?”

“Depends on what you want help with?”

“Peacefully resolving the conflict.”

Songbird snorted.

“S’pose it’s an idea. I don’t think it’s a good one. Trouble is, their presence in Aisne isn’t strong enough to mediate.”

“I could make them strong enough.”

“That’s even worse. Every ruler would disapprove. S’pose if you wanted to instate a theocracy then it could work. Leave off thinking about big picture stuff for a day. Treat this as a break.”

“You’re not taking a break.”

“Taylor, treat this as an order,” Songbird stated. “Take a break.”

“Fine,” I replied dubiously. I’d promised myself I’d listen to advice. Songbird seemed serious about this. “Yvie’s going with you then.”

“Was planning that way anyhow.”

Conversation stalled for a moment. I was about to stand up and leave when one of Songbird’s assistants strolled in. The boy couldn’t even be thirteen summers. It was depressing how quickly everyone in Calernia was forced to grow up. He handed her another pile of letters then ran off.

She took a moment to read through it before turning my way.

“Huh. They’re real nasty,” she said.

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“You asked me to look into those two killings. The ones in the brothel. They’re a bit different from the others.”

I had forgotten I’d even asked. There was far too much going on within the city for me to reasonably keep track of it all. It was gradually wearing me down.

“What did you learn?”

“It took some snooping in the Prince’s Palace, but one of my helpers found this,” she shoved one of the letters at me.

I started to read. Some killings were different from the others. Not different in their brutality. The deaths were just as awful. The discrepancy was far darker. For some killings, the revolution left notes detailing crimes they accused the dead of. The nobility had been doing their best to cover up the presence of the notes, which was why this was the first we were hearing of it.

These two nobles were a part of the note crowd. So far, that crowd totalled twenty-three individuals. Six were nobles. Seventeen of them were ordinary criminals. I wasn’t sure why the nobility were hiding these notes. Songbird hadn’t been able to find out what was on the other twenty-one notes, but just these two were bad enough.

“Are these accusations true?” I asked, my voice hard.

“Dunno,” she replied glibly. “Prob’ly.”

“Rape is already terrible, but children?”

“Like I said, nasty.”

It was bad enough to make me seriously consider just blasting the palace myself.

“Are all the nobles like this?”

“No. Doubt the other ones were that bad either.” Songbird paused. “I don’t think these kills were done by the revolution.”

“You think someone else is doing this?”

“Prob’ly. The handwriting is too good. Think they’re just taking advantage of the chaos.”

Because this wasn’t complicated enough already without another player involved.

“Chances there’s another hero in the city?”

I wouldn’t call killing someone with brutal dismemberment and torture heroic. Even if the person subjected to it was awful. My opinion on the subject wasn’t held by everyone. Some heroes likely went that far. I would have just killed the monsters quickly and left it at that.

“Could be. There hasn’t been any talk of it.”

“Well, add it to the list.”

As if we needed something else to keep track of.

I was standing beside someone in an infirmary built beside the House of Light many hours later. Official sermons had been held before I had arrived. The chair next to me was rickety and the room itself was run down. I expected the condition of the place came as a direct result of the civil war. I would offer to repair it all when I was done taking care of people.

This was the last injured person present.

“Can I heal you?”

The patient gave their assent.

It was a work of a few moments to heal them. I could have healed everyone at once with the help of my Grace, but saw no reason to. None of them had been at risk of dying if they didn’t wait a little. All it would do is leave me with nothing to do with my time. It felt odd being the one waiting for the actions of others.

I hated to admit it, but Songbird was right. I knew at the back of my mind that I wasn’t resolving the conflict by doing this, but seeing injured people made whole again still made me feel better. Not everyone was appreciative after being healed. That was to be expected. I had spent enough time around injured people to know that not all of them had a good bedside manner.

Maybe one day I would grow to resent that. That day wasn’t today. It was exactly like scratching an insect bite.

It didn’t address the cause of the problem, but it still felt good to do.

There was no way this was the last injured person in the city. It would only be the last one close enough to find out that I was here.

I turned around. Standing by the entrance was the priestess in charge. She and the others had worked to heal people as well before eventually exhausting themselves.

“Do you want me to repair this place?” I asked.

Her brown eyebrows raised. “If it is no trouble for you, chosen.”

“It isn’t,” I confirmed.

“Then this humble refuge accepts what assistance you may offer. You honour the Gods Above through your service.”

Taking that as permission, I stood up and began to reshape the structure as I went. Cracks were filled in, dirt erased and a clean coat of white paint set itself on the walls. I worked methodically. Even with the assistance of angels, the process was not quick. I was putting in the effort to catch all the little details. Right now, there was no reason to hurry. I wanted to do this right.

I padded my way outside the infirmary and towards the chapel itself. Climbing the stairs, I repaired the baked tiles as I carried out my task. The roof came next. Then the stained-glass windows. The pews could be more comfortable. Why not have cushioned seating? I didn’t see any quotes in the Book of All things declaring a sore ass to be sacred. Slowly, I restored the building.

I was completely absorbed in my work. Vaguely, I could hear the rustle of movement behind me. I didn’t even realize what else was occurring within the chapel by the time I reached the other end of the House of Light.

My efforts ended beside the lectern. Casting one last critical gaze over the stained-glass window in front of me, I turned around. The entire building was crammed full. People were packed uncomfortably onto chairs. I hadn’t even been aware of them entering. It felt as if the gaze of everyone present was locked onto me.

The moment of stillness as I watched them watch me was more awkward than I cared to admit. It should have occurred to me that I was putting on a spectacle for them.

“Would you care to give voice to compassion’s words within this place of worship?” the priestess raised her blue eyes to meet mine, breaking the silence as she did so.

I should have expected the request. In hindsight, it was an obvious one. That didn’t make the situation any less delicate. I didn’t want to refuse. It would be letting them down. The people that were watching me were likely to be genuinely faithful. I could see from the looks in their eyes that having me here meant something important to them. More than it meant to me.

Accepting this request would place a burden on me.

It was almost certain I would disappoint them. I wasn’t a great speaker, and I was not a member of their faith. If I spoke, it would be about my own beliefs and not theirs. I definitely wouldn’t give a sermon or talk about the state of the world outside.

What should I do?

… I’d try. Even if it ended up being a disappointment for them. I felt they were the kinds of people who would understand and would appreciate that I was making the effort. The presence of the angels intensified. It was encouraging.

“I can do that.”

I licked my lips, then walked slowly to the lectern.

“There is plenty I could share my thoughts about. Fortunately, I’ve failed enough to know better. So I’ll talk about the one virtue I feel I have some insight into. Compassion. Both the human and angelic perspective.” I paused, taking a breath.

“I’ll start with the angels. This is what they look like to me.”

I created an illusion within the House of light showing my impression of them. A void with dancing lights within. It was entirely visual. While I strongly suspected that everyone present desired more than that, I felt it would detract from my speech.

“They don’t look like those chubby sprites you have in the windows, although the imagery doesn’t offend them.” I said, smiling. “But what they look like is less important than what they feel like. They feel like a perspective. A way of seeing the world. They perceive the world differently to all of us. In a way that is so sincere that your heart aches just to feel it. There is nobody they would turn away from. In their eyes, all living creatures great and small deserve to be cared for. So you can rest assured that no matter what happens, there is always one family that loves you. It's heartbreakingly pure. I wish the world was that way. But it’s not.”

I let the illusion fade away.

“Which brings me to my own perspective. Compassion to me is about two principles. The first is minimizing suffering. The obvious approach is by listening to people. Find out what troubles them, then do your best to help them. Rarely, that will be done by leaving them alone. Sometimes you are the problem. Then there is what I am trying to do. I’m trying to reform systems. If we can prevent suffering in the first place, then we don’t need to alleviate it.”

I took a moment to phrase my next words in my head. It would have been nice if this wasn’t sprung on me at the moment. That way, I could have at least tried to write a proper speech. I was starting to suspect I should write speeches out in advance to memorize.

I hadn’t expected I would be giving so many of them.

“The second principle is perspective. It’s about trying to empathize with people and understand their views. That doesn’t mean you have to agree with them. You can understand why somebody becomes a villain, and think that they’re awful at the same time. You should also care for them as well. Feel sadness, or pity.” I paused, then hardened my voice. “Feeling compassion for someone who does wrong doesn’t mean that they should escape justice. It just means that justice should be tempered by perspective.”

It would have been easier to talk by using innovate. I chose not to. It felt as if it would be inauthentic. This crowd genuinely valued my thoughts. I wouldn’t hide behind a mask of competence that I didn’t actually have.

I’d use it to practise when I next had downtime. It was a skill that it seemed I would need in the future.

“My principles don’t exclude violence. They also don’t justify being the lesser evil. If I’m going to kill someone, it is when I feel there are no other choices left. When killing someone is the right decision. Not everyone can be redeemed. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t make the attempt when we believe they can be.”

Is there anything else I want to say?

“Even the act of killing a person can be compassionate. Death itself isn’t good or evil. Everyone dies eventually. If a person genuinely wants to die and cannot be convinced otherwise, then letting them live is prolonging their suffering. Imagine if someone is cursed to live eternally in torment by a villain. If you had the opportunity to alleviate their suffering, wouldn’t it be a compassionate thing to do?”

Panning my gaze across the crowd, I thought on how I would like to finish off.

“I’ll close this speech by talking about something I feel is important to me personally. None of us are perfect, and that’s fine. It’s expected. What matters is that we all try to do better. We accept help from other people, and try to help them in return when we can.”

Finally, I stepped back.

There was no clapping or cheers in the crowd. But there was a solemn sincerity to it that I felt meant more.

The priestess who appeared to be in charge approached me.

“Would you be willing to join us in distributing alms to the poor?” she asked, looking up at me as she did so.

“Sure.”

It would have been easier if I could transmute objects into food. Unfortunately, that wasn’t something the angels helped me with. It was just as difficult for me to do as it was before earning my name. But I could learn to do it on my own. Another task to commit to in my imaginary free time.

There was still plenty I could do to help out. So I did what I was able to. Time passed. Eventually, some of us headed back to the church.

Small crowds of people talked amongst each other. A few even approached me to banter. Topics ranged from the extraordinary to the mundane. There were some unreasonable requests, but I was expecting those. It was no worse than being a known hero on Earth Bet around civilians. In a lot of ways, it was better. People here didn’t view me distrustfully. I really was a hero to them.

After speaking with the nobility yesterday and the news on the killings, being around ordinary people was like taking an ice-cold shower. It was refreshing. Listening to more grounded discussions made me feel more human.

“Your attendance was a balm that helped soothe old wounds.”

“I don’t think I did much,” I admitted.

“On that, we disagree. Times are dark. This light you have lit for the faithful here is no candle but instead a roaring hearth. Would it trouble you to attend a ceremony like this again?”

It wasn’t a question that I had expected I would be asked. The idea appealed to me. Before today, it wouldn’t have. I had an entirely different mental image of what the House of Light would be like. People were more welcoming than I thought they would be. There were no covert attempts to convert me. In retrospect, expecting that they would try was silly.

It was also nice being among the priests. It felt like they were genuinely trying to do good. Even if we might not entirely agree on what good was.

“So long as you don’t expect me to speak again. I’ll make some time,” I promised.

And I certainly would. I didn’t need to share their beliefs to see the good they were doing. Not every problem needed a systematic solution. Some people’s issues were small. That didn’t make them any less deserving of help. This had been an important reminder to me. Deciding to fix the big issues didn’t mean that I should ignore the small ones.

The sun had set an hour ago. I was still in high spirits from my time among the clergy. It was the closest I had come to spending time with people who shared a similar perspective to me. Most of them weren’t focused on lands or border disputes. They were only focused on trying to do good. Even without sharing their faith, I felt like I could fit in.

My good mood almost certainly would not last. Songbird was fussing over me at the edge of the balcony.

“I’m going to be late,” I told her.

“You’re prob’ly going to make a shit impression.”

“I know.”

“Y’sure you want to fly over to this dinner? Lotsa people in Procer don’t like wizards.”

“I’m certain,” I confirmed. “Making me come to him is all about power. If the city was in good shape I’d play along but… I think Quentin needs a reminder.”

“About you?” Songbird sounded amused.

“Yeah. The only power he has is the power people give him.”

“You’re the boss,” Songbird said dubiously.

“You sent the letter?”

“Made sure someone in the revolution got it,” Songbird confirmed.

“Good. And tracking?”

“Yvette’s set up the spell.”

“I’m ready.”

“Good luck.”

I manifested a sphere around me, then took a seat inside. When I arrived, I would make it glow. I planned to flaunt what I could do. Tonight I was making a pointed statement. I was approaching problems politically by choice. If I wanted to, then I could do otherwise. The nobles needed to pretend to care if they wanted me to be nice.

My sphere hurtled towards the venue. It weaved between rooftops at speed. The location rapidly drew closer. I had been invited to a large estate at the edge of the city. My first sight of it was a brick wall. I flew over it, then followed a wide paved road leading up to a two-storey building. The mansion occupied far more lateral than vertical space. It sprawled out openly. Apple trees lined either side of the path. The grass was perfectly manicured.

I frowned. There was a hive of activity below. Guards were running all over the place. They were bustling, both inside and outside the walls. It wasn’t in response to me, either. I lowered myself to the ground.

“What happened?” I asked.

They already had their weapons in hand. The look they gave me was appraising. It was as if they were assessing me as a threat.

“Prince Quentin was expected to set foot upon these grounds before the fall of the sun. He has yet to make an appearance.”

“I’ll help look. Anywhere you want me to check?”

They stared at me for a moment, before one of them spoke.

“You would best be served searching the roads between the palace and this estate.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

I lifted off once more and scouted the city from above. The road to the palace was much larger and more open. It was far easier to observe from above.

My first hint was the corpse of a guard pinned to a wall along a major thoroughfare. His horse was dead beside him. The further I went, the more corpses appeared. At a glance, it looked like three dozen guards had been killed. I examined the scene further.

How did they find out that Quentin would be heading this way?

They looked to have been taken entirely by surprise.

It was probably done using illusions.

That was a major escalation. They had stuck so far to the back alleys. The fact that neither Songbird nor Yvette had informed me of this only confirmed my fears. Attacking that one location would not have ended the revolution. We would have known about this in advance otherwise.

I started to look around more closely.

Despite the fact that there were no corpses aside from the guards, I could tell that others had been either injured or killed. There were enough evidence to support it. I suspected the revolutionaries had done their best to hide the evidence in an effort to make the scene more intimidating.

If it looked like they weren’t losing people, then more people would be likely to join.

It didn’t take long for me to find the carriage’s remains. From what I could tell, they had tried to make a desperate escape. It was just off the main road in one of the side alleys. The broken wreckage was lying on its side. Parts of it were scorched. The horses that were pulling it had been slain.

A woman in her late thirties wearing the Hand’s livery had remnants of her body staged all over the remains of the carriage. One hand was pinned to a wheel spoke. A foot was jammed through a lance. I didn’t recognize her, but it was probably one of Songbird’s assistants. She had many of them. I didn’t even know her name.

Quentin was nowhere to be found.

I took a moment to return to the guards at the venue and inform them of what I had discovered. Then I started to search. I spent another half hour looking for clues. I found nothing. Eventually, I gave up and flew back to the Fated Connections. It made me feel angry. Helpless in a way that I wasn’t used to feeling any more.

I saw Songbird seated at a table on the ground floor as I entered. She had a box beside her and was frowning in concentration at the floor. The moment she saw me, her mask went up once more.

“S’pose that your meeting fell through?”

“Yeah. One of your people died. How do you know?”

She tapped the lid of the box.

“Revolution sent us a gift. A head in a box. They didn’t send the rest of him. They prob’ly plan to use that for a proper spectacle.”

“Why send us the head?” I asked, frustrated.

“Dunno,” she replied glibly. “Prob’ly in response to your letter.”

“We didn’t notice any activity after they received it?”

“Nah.”

“Praes is involved,” I stated, “I’m certain of it.”

For them to have pulled this off so quickly after receiving the letter without us being aware, one of a few things needed to be true. The hands could be compromised. That was a possibility. It was also one I doubted.

The second possibility I could think of is they had scrying. A method to communicate between cells that did not require direct travel. We knew they had one wizard. Who said that they didn’t have another? It would even make sense. Why wouldn’t Praes support a movement like this?

They could inform another cell about our letter, then that group could perform the assault and deliver the head.

“S’not like they could do this any other way,” Songbird agreed.

“Did you follow the person who sent this?”

“Yes. Didn’t really help. Seems they were just an ordinary messenger. They were paid to deliver the box. Went completely green when they saw the head.”

“Can you contact the guard?”

“Prob’ly. They’ll be busy at the moment. It’s likely they won’t listen. Want me to try?”

“I want to attack the base we found tomorrow. I could do it alone, but I think involving them is better.”

“Yvie is gonna be irritated you made her set up that spell y’know. One day later and it’s already useless.”

“I know. That’s just how it is sometimes.”

“Y’sure you want to do that?”

“Yeah. I think waiting was a mistake.”

“I dunno.” Songbird sounded sceptical of my idea.

I bit the bottom of my lip. “Has there been other escalation?”

“Yep. S’not just revolutionaries now. There’s general looting as well.”

“Then we definitely pull them out. We can’t afford to wait.”

“If you’re sure. Y’think that everyone’ll listen if they see how serious you are?”

“Hopefully. I can ensure people are taken prisoner and the prisoners are treated fairly. What the revolutionaries are doing is monstrous. The problem is that if we kill them, the situation compounds. More families will join out of anger. This isn’t ideal, but it’s what I can do.”

“What about Praes?”

“Remember what you said about giving people a bigger enemy?”

Her eyebrows rose. “You’re going to put on a show?”

“No. It’s just… There is actually a bigger enemy here. If we can find evidence of their involvement and prove it, then we have a way forward. We show people. Let them know they’re doing the enemy’s work.”

“You’re going to let them live too?”

“No. They aren’t local and won’t have any ties. There is nothing shielding them from consequences.”

Taking a seat, I continued to ponder the situation. Was there even a Revolutionary at all, or was this all the work of Praes? They certainly had the motive to fake it.

“There’s more,” Songbird said abruptly. It cut off my train of thought.

“What else?”

“We tried to learn more about the Hall of Records. Nobody would gab. Even had some Hands try breaking in. Large parts of the place are blocked off. The revolution is still attacking it despite that. Prob’ly something really important in there.”

“Right. Tomorrow you and Yvie look into that while I’m dealing with the revolutionary cell. I don’t care if you need to break and enter. It’s obviously important.”

“S’pose we can kick up some mischief.” Songbird grinned. She seemed eager at the thought.

“I’m trusting you not to get caught.”

“Not a problem. Good idea anyhow. Need to break in there for your request about the crusades. All the other leads are shit.”

Right, that.

I rested my head against the table, put my hands on the back of my head and groaned. Tears of frustration were accumulating at the edge of my eyes.

“How does anyone keep track of all of this?” I mumbled onto the hard wood. “I also need to consider what Vermin and Garwick will do now that Quentin is dead.”

“Verrill and Garson,” Songbird replied, amused.

I said nothing in response.

The revolution, the brutal killings, the nobility, the peasantry, the hall of records, Praes, the questionable existence of the Revolutionary, the crusade. There were probably other concerns that were just slipping through my fingers. It was all so much to juggle, and I was sure that I kept missing balls.

“Hey, Taylor, it’s gonna be fine,” Songbird said. She came in close and hugged me tightly, then stepped back and let go.

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“We’ll get through this. You’ll see.”

I hoped she was right. We were drowning in difficulties, and right now I couldn’t see the surface of the water.