Chapter 203 - Forged in Purple II
Her eyelids drooping and her body completely covered in blood, Claire breathed a sigh and collapsed face first into a bed of clouds. It was finally over; they were finally all dead.
The sun had risen three whole times before she was freed from the monsters’ wrath. By the second day, she had already effectively lost consciousness. Her brain had been reduced to nothing but its stem. She had relied entirely on her reflexes and lashed out at everything that got near, often recognising it as foe only after she had already made contact. On several occasions, she suddenly regained consciousness to find that she had slain not a winged messenger, but an adventurer that had identified her as a dungeon-born threat. And while she certainly did not mind the free experience, she decided to switch back to her humanoid form after trampling a fourth party. When she awoke, halfway through the final member’s death, she realised that her body was covered in wounds; murder was apparently too dangerous a task for an unconscious snake-moose.
“I need a bath,” she muttered. Even with her sense of smell as muted as it was, she could tell that she reeked something horrible. No amount of soap could wash the rancid iron out of her hair; she was worried it would be permanently stained in a rusty red.
“We all do,” said Lia.
Craning her head towards her, Claire flashed the catgirl half a glare before closing her eyes and burying her face in the clouds again. “Why aren’t you tired?” Though just as blood-soaked, the catgirl was nowhere near as depleted as the half moose. She certainly did not appear to have all her usual energy, often hesitating to move, but her eyes lacked the bags evident upon the lyrkress’ face.
“I am,” said the Paunsean with an awkward smile. “I’m sore all over. I’m just not as mentally fatigued because I was enraged the whole time.”
“I thought you said that enraging for a long time makes you lose your mind.”
“Only if I go beyond level two.”
“Lucky you.” Tail lazily flickering from side to side, Claire reached for the fox atop her head, but found only an empty space. “Where’s Sylvia?”
“Over here, silly!” When the lyrkress slowly shifted her eyes towards the cheerful shout, she found a familiar orange blob sitting atop a mountain of bloody feathers. There was another much smaller pile behind her, made of only the whitest, tiniest bits of plumage.
“What are you doing?”
“Making stuffed animals, duh!” As if to demonstrate, she picked up a nearby cloud, ripped it open, and filled its insides with down.
“...Why?”
“Because you guys literally took three whole days to beat up those stupid fake eggeyes!” Hands on her hips, the fox stood up on her hind legs and puffed out her cheeks. “I was so bored that I almost wiped them out for you.”
“I’d have ignored you for a week,” said Claire.
“Wow, what the heck!? I was thinking of helping!”
Wordlessly, with her face still planted in the clouds, Claire reached for the fox and pulled her towards her, but her vectors were cut short before she was able to get her hands on her prey.
“At least wash your hands first!” cried the kit. “You’re gonna get me all bloody and stuff!”
Though she did summon a stream of stale water, Claire failed to clean the blood off her skin. She simply lay where she was, unmoving with the finger-cleansing fluid flowing into the clouds. She was too tired to bother; speaking and cleaning herself were too much work to be worth the investment. And it was precisely in the circumstances at hand that she began to miss her maids. If she were present, Mariabelle surely would have understood and handled both tasks for her.
“Maybe I should’ve made her come with us…” she whispered, her voice trailing off.
“Uhmmm… Claire?” Sylvia moved to poke the lyrkress with a feather, but Natalya grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her head.
“Let’s let her rest a bit. She needs it.”
“I was gonna!” shouted the fox in a whisper. “I just wanted to check if she fell asleep or she was trying to lure me in so she could grab me.”
“Maybe both,” giggled the cat.
“Probably both,” agreed the furball. She cast a warm gaze on the unconscious deer before humming a bubble around her. The almost translucent delusion gently washed the dracoqilin’s body, cleansing it of all its impurities before depositing her atop the mountain of down.
“Is she alright?” Using her staff to support most of her weight, Arciel slugged her way over and sat down atop a particularly fluffy cloud. As the resident backliner, she was not nearly as filthy as any of the others, and the occasional bits of blood that flew close were quickly consumed, both as nourishment, and to fuel her spells.
“Mhm! She should be!” said the fox. “I think she’s only like this ‘cause this is the first break she’s gotten since you guys started.”
Everyone else had rested, one way or another. Arciel had napped in the shadows, Matthias had used his invisibility cloak, and Lia had effectively remained in a state that some deigned to describe as a meditative trance. Sylvia had offered the lyrkress a bubble, and Boris had volunteered to become something of a massive shield, but both were summarily rejected.
“The whole endeavour certainly was rather time consuming, but we gained quite the amount of experience,” said Arciel. “I, for one, gained roughly ten levels in each class.”
“Me too,” said Lia. “But I think we probably would have been better off stopping after the first day. The other two were barely worth half as much put together.”
“That’s just how it goes,” said the rhiar. “Not like you’re gonna learn much from butchering something for the thousandth time.”
“Maybe I really should’ve stepped in then…” muttered the fox. The claim earned her a pair of looks, both from the party’s newest members. “W-what?”
“You don’t look strong is all,” said the rhiar. “Maybe level 10 or 20 at most.”
“Wow, that’s rude!” squeaked the fox. “I’m way fluffier than any dumb level 20 fox!”
“I thought fox levels were expressed by tail,” said Lia.
“Uhhhmmm… I think some of them are?” said Sylvia. “But my kind measures by fluffiness, and I’m like three times fluffier than everyone else. Oh wait! I know, I’ll just show you.” The fox took a deep breath and began singing, quietly, so as not to disturb her favourite chair.
Alongside the heavenly hymn appeared a pair of foxes, standing side by side among the clouds. Sylvia moved to the end of the line, shook her tail to puff it up, and took the exact same pose as the two phantoms. “Okay, so on the far left, you have my mom. She’s really nice and all, but she’s about the same level she was when she was born and it shows in how unfuzzy she is.”
The model, like the individual it was based off, had exactly three fluffy tails, each just as large and poofy as Sylvia’s.
“And this one is my uncle.”
The second model, like the individual it was based off, had exactly two fluffy tails, each just as large and poofy as Sylvia’s.
“You see how obvious it is? I’m clearly the strongest.”
Lia and Arciel exchanged confused glances before nodding, while the mantis shook his head with a chirp. “Not at all. They both have more tails than you, and yours doesn’t look any fluffier.”
“Ughhh! Why do you guys keep focusing on the tails!?” The vixen puffed up her cheeks. “That’s not even where you’re supposed to look!” She pressed a hand to her chest and continued to sing, the second verse in her song more lively and vibrant than the first. Commanded by her notes, the two imaginary foxes approached each of the individuals in turn and offered their heads to be patted, with the real one following soon after. She even allowed the rude mantis, who had scythes for hands, to ruffle her fur with his knuckles.
“Now you see?”
Her lips still twisted into a frown, she leapt back atop her usual seat and stood tall, as one would before a podium or pedestal.
“Well you were definitely shaggier,” said Lia
“Fluffier! Not shaggier! Fluff-eeeeeee-uuurrrr!” She stomped each time she shouted, with an excess of strength at first, and then lightly when the sleeping platform groaned.
“All that means is that you haven’t cut your hair,” said Matthais. “If you’re trying to ask for a haircut, you’re barking up the wrong alley. My scythes are meant only as weapons of war.”
Sylvia narrowed her eyes at the rhiar before turning towards the group’s final member. “Come on, you’ve gotta agree with me at least, right, Ciel?”
The vampire squid smiled. “It was immediately apparent,” she said, “that your fur was of a much higher quality. Your head was much puffier, and I found it more difficult to locate your veins.” It appeared as would a genuine response at first, but she started to sweat when Sylvia kept her eyes on her.
“Ughhhhhh! You guys suck,” grumbled the fox. “Fine, you know what? If you can’t appreciate my fluffiness, then I’m just not going to be fluffy anymore.” Sulking, she turned into a fairy and sat herself down atop the lyrkress’ neck. “Claire would be on my side if she was awake. Unlike you guys, she actually understands how nice and soft I am!”
“Sorry Sylvia,” said Lia with a giggle. “It’s probably just a racial thing, like how I couldn’t tell Nymphetel was male.”
“That’s just because you didn’t look at his schlong!”
The angry shout was followed by an awkward moment of silence, with a very confused vampire regarding the pair with her brow raised.
“It makes sense in context,” muttered the fairy.
“I’m pretty sure the context just makes it worse,” said the cat.
“No it doesn’t! It’s his fault for wearing clothes I can see through.”
Natalya opened her mouth to speak again, but Arciel cut her off by clearing her throat. “While this certainly does appear to be quite the interesting discussion, I believe we should take a moment or two to decide our next course of action.”
“Wait, we should?” the fox blinked. Thrice. “I thought we were taking a break. Since uhm… you know.” She pointed at Claire. “She probably isn’t gonna be waking up anytime soon.”
“I would love to,” muttered the bloodmage, “but we have fallen far behind the frontrunners. The bulk of the Cadrian army may lie behind us yet, but I suspect that it is not a lack of competence that drives their pace. They are likely awaiting information such that they may make the best use of their troops. Perhaps it may be best for us to retreat while we are ahead.”
“I don’t really think it matters,” said the fox.
“The reward we are paid corresponds directly with the amount of information provided, the value of which is determined by the number of reports,” said the squid.
“Huh?” Sylvia tilted her head. “Oh uhm… that’s not what I meant. I don’t think it’s gonna matter ‘cause they’re all gonna die.” The damning claim was made as would any other casual statement. Sylvia spoke it with her face cupped in her hands and her elbows resting atop her knees, bored as could be, while all the others reacted with a start.
“Are you sure?” asked Lia. “I’m pretty sure there were a few level five hundreds in the midst. I doubt they’d go down that easily.”
“I dunno how strong they are, but uhm… you know how you guys kinda struggled with the shoggoth? Well uhhh… I was talking to its soul ‘cause I was really bored and apparently it’s not even really that strong compared to all the other stuff in the dungeon. Heck, the yhk’huraths on the ninth floor keep shoggoths as pets!”
“Great. More eldritch creatures,” groaned the cat.
“Hey! Eldritch creatures can be adorable too! Look at Claire!”
“To be clear, are you implying that Claire is a sort of eldritch creature?” asked Arciel.
“Mhm! She’s technically an abyssal horror though, not a cosmic one,” said the fox. “Oh, and don’t tell her I told you or else she’s gonna get really mad at me. It doesn’t even really matter since the category’s so broad, but she gets super picky about stuff like that for no reason.”
“That does sound like her,” said Natalya, with a strained smile. “But I’m pretty sure she knows we all know. She told me she was an abyssal scalewarden, or something like that.”
“Oh yeah!” The fox tapped one hand against the palm of the other. “I guess that might mean I’m not gonna be in all that much trouble after all.”
“None, if no one tells her,” said the rhiar. “Anyway, let’s go. I’m itching to try my hand at dueling something stronger.”
“By Griselda’s hat, Matthias.” Arciel sighed. “What is wrong with you? You do realise that we could return with this knowledge and be the only group to survive?”
“Then what? Go home, wait a few months, and then have this dungeon fly by Vel’khagan and wipe it off the map?” The mantis’ mouthparts clicked. “I know you don’t wanna play into that fake queen’s hands, but someone’s going to have to blow it up if you want anything to rule over.”
“Wait, what’s this about ruling?”
There was a brief moment of silence, during which every waking party exchanged a series of confused blinks. Even Boris tried to join in on the action, but was too late and wound up left out.
“Did Claire not tell you?” asked Arciel. “About the reason we have chosen to collaborate.”
“All I ever heard was that you tested each other,” said Lia.
“Oh crap!” Eyes averted and tail straight as a rod, the tiny fairy slowly backed off, slipping further and further into the lyrkress’ hair.
“Sylvia?”
“Uhmm… I think we were supposed to tell you but we kinda forgot,” she stuck out her tongue and nervously laughed as her hips swayed to and fro. “But we’re kinda helping her stage a coup ‘cause she’s supposed to be the rightful heir or whatever, yadda yadda. You know, the usual story stuff.”
The cat took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It took her a moment to recover. She and everyone else stayed silent as she sat down atop a pile of down, rubbed her face in her hands, and groaned.
“You really need to tell me these things earlier.”
“Hey! It’s not all my fault! Claire forgot too,” said the fox.
“I do apologize,” said Arciel. “I was under the impression that you would have known already, and while you certainly have become one of our associates now, we would not mind if you decided not to participate.”
The cat glanced at the mantis, who was already preparing for her to voice anything but an immediate agreement, before breathing another sigh. “Maybe I should’ve joined that mercenary band after all…”
Chapter 203 - Forged in Purple II
Her eyelids drooping and her body completely covered in blood, Claire breathed a sigh and collapsed face first into a bed of clouds. It was finally over; they were finally all dead.
The sun had risen three whole times before she was freed from the monsters’ wrath. By the second day, she had already effectively lost consciousness. Her brain had been reduced to nothing but its stem. She had relied entirely on her reflexes and lashed out at everything that got near, often recognising it as foe only after she had already made contact. On several occasions, she suddenly regained consciousness to find that she had slain not a winged messenger, but an adventurer that had identified her as a dungeon-born threat. And while she certainly did not mind the free experience, she decided to switch back to her humanoid form after trampling a fourth party. When she awoke, halfway through the final member’s death, she realised that her body was covered in wounds; murder was apparently too dangerous a task for an unconscious snake-moose.
“I need a bath,” she muttered. Even with her sense of smell as muted as it was, she could tell that she reeked something horrible. No amount of soap could wash the rancid iron out of her hair; she was worried it would be permanently stained in a rusty red.
“We all do,” said Lia.
Craning her head towards her, Claire flashed the catgirl half a glare before closing her eyes and burying her face in the clouds again. “Why aren’t you tired?” Though just as blood-soaked, the catgirl was nowhere near as depleted as the half moose. She certainly did not appear to have all her usual energy, often hesitating to move, but her eyes lacked the bags evident upon the lyrkress’ face.
“I am,” said the Paunsean with an awkward smile. “I’m sore all over. I’m just not as mentally fatigued because I was enraged the whole time.”
“I thought you said that enraging for a long time makes you lose your mind.”
“Only if I go beyond level two.”
“Lucky you.” Tail lazily flickering from side to side, Claire reached for the fox atop her head, but found only an empty space. “Where’s Sylvia?”
“Over here, silly!” When the lyrkress slowly shifted her eyes towards the cheerful shout, she found a familiar orange blob sitting atop a mountain of bloody feathers. There was another much smaller pile behind her, made of only the whitest, tiniest bits of plumage.
“What are you doing?”
“Making stuffed animals, duh!” As if to demonstrate, she picked up a nearby cloud, ripped it open, and filled its insides with down.
“...Why?”
“Because you guys literally took three whole days to beat up those stupid fake eggeyes!” Hands on her hips, the fox stood up on her hind legs and puffed out her cheeks. “I was so bored that I almost wiped them out for you.”
“I’d have ignored you for a week,” said Claire.
“Wow, what the heck!? I was thinking of helping!”
Wordlessly, with her face still planted in the clouds, Claire reached for the fox and pulled her towards her, but her vectors were cut short before she was able to get her hands on her prey.
“At least wash your hands first!” cried the kit. “You’re gonna get me all bloody and stuff!”
Though she did summon a stream of stale water, Claire failed to clean the blood off her skin. She simply lay where she was, unmoving with the finger-cleansing fluid flowing into the clouds. She was too tired to bother; speaking and cleaning herself were too much work to be worth the investment. And it was precisely in the circumstances at hand that she began to miss her maids. If she were present, Mariabelle surely would have understood and handled both tasks for her.
“Maybe I should’ve made her come with us…” she whispered, her voice trailing off.
“Uhmmm… Claire?” Sylvia moved to poke the lyrkress with a feather, but Natalya grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her head.
“Let’s let her rest a bit. She needs it.”
“I was gonna!” shouted the fox in a whisper. “I just wanted to check if she fell asleep or she was trying to lure me in so she could grab me.”
“Maybe both,” giggled the cat.
“Probably both,” agreed the furball. She cast a warm gaze on the unconscious deer before humming a bubble around her. The almost translucent delusion gently washed the dracoqilin’s body, cleansing it of all its impurities before depositing her atop the mountain of down.
“Is she alright?” Using her staff to support most of her weight, Arciel slugged her way over and sat down atop a particularly fluffy cloud. As the resident backliner, she was not nearly as filthy as any of the others, and the occasional bits of blood that flew close were quickly consumed, both as nourishment, and to fuel her spells.
“Mhm! She should be!” said the fox. “I think she’s only like this ‘cause this is the first break she’s gotten since you guys started.”
Everyone else had rested, one way or another. Arciel had napped in the shadows, Matthias had used his invisibility cloak, and Lia had effectively remained in a state that some deigned to describe as a meditative trance. Sylvia had offered the lyrkress a bubble, and Boris had volunteered to become something of a massive shield, but both were summarily rejected.
“The whole endeavour certainly was rather time consuming, but we gained quite the amount of experience,” said Arciel. “I, for one, gained roughly ten levels in each class.”
“Me too,” said Lia. “But I think we probably would have been better off stopping after the first day. The other two were barely worth half as much put together.”
“That’s just how it goes,” said the rhiar. “Not like you’re gonna learn much from butchering something for the thousandth time.”
“Maybe I really should’ve stepped in then…” muttered the fox. The claim earned her a pair of looks, both from the party’s newest members. “W-what?”
“You don’t look strong is all,” said the rhiar. “Maybe level 10 or 20 at most.”
“Wow, that’s rude!” squeaked the fox. “I’m way fluffier than any dumb level 20 fox!”
“I thought fox levels were expressed by tail,” said Lia.
“Uhhhmmm… I think some of them are?” said Sylvia. “But my kind measures by fluffiness, and I’m like three times fluffier than everyone else. Oh wait! I know, I’ll just show you.” The fox took a deep breath and began singing, quietly, so as not to disturb her favourite chair.
Alongside the heavenly hymn appeared a pair of foxes, standing side by side among the clouds. Sylvia moved to the end of the line, shook her tail to puff it up, and took the exact same pose as the two phantoms. “Okay, so on the far left, you have my mom. She’s really nice and all, but she’s about the same level she was when she was born and it shows in how unfuzzy she is.”
The model, like the individual it was based off, had exactly three fluffy tails, each just as large and poofy as Sylvia’s.
“And this one is my uncle.”
The second model, like the individual it was based off, had exactly two fluffy tails, each just as large and poofy as Sylvia’s.
“You see how obvious it is? I’m clearly the strongest.”
Lia and Arciel exchanged confused glances before nodding, while the mantis shook his head with a chirp. “Not at all. They both have more tails than you, and yours doesn’t look any fluffier.”
“Ughhh! Why do you guys keep focusing on the tails!?” The vixen puffed up her cheeks. “That’s not even where you’re supposed to look!” She pressed a hand to her chest and continued to sing, the second verse in her song more lively and vibrant than the first. Commanded by her notes, the two imaginary foxes approached each of the individuals in turn and offered their heads to be patted, with the real one following soon after. She even allowed the rude mantis, who had scythes for hands, to ruffle her fur with his knuckles.
“Now you see?”
Her lips still twisted into a frown, she leapt back atop her usual seat and stood tall, as one would before a podium or pedestal.
“Well you were definitely shaggier,” said Lia
“Fluffier! Not shaggier! Fluff-eeeeeee-uuurrrr!” She stomped each time she shouted, with an excess of strength at first, and then lightly when the sleeping platform groaned.
“All that means is that you haven’t cut your hair,” said Matthais. “If you’re trying to ask for a haircut, you’re barking up the wrong alley. My scythes are meant only as weapons of war.”
Sylvia narrowed her eyes at the rhiar before turning towards the group’s final member. “Come on, you’ve gotta agree with me at least, right, Ciel?”
The vampire squid smiled. “It was immediately apparent,” she said, “that your fur was of a much higher quality. Your head was much puffier, and I found it more difficult to locate your veins.” It appeared as would a genuine response at first, but she started to sweat when Sylvia kept her eyes on her.
“Ughhhhhh! You guys suck,” grumbled the fox. “Fine, you know what? If you can’t appreciate my fluffiness, then I’m just not going to be fluffy anymore.” Sulking, she turned into a fairy and sat herself down atop the lyrkress’ neck. “Claire would be on my side if she was awake. Unlike you guys, she actually understands how nice and soft I am!”
“Sorry Sylvia,” said Lia with a giggle. “It’s probably just a racial thing, like how I couldn’t tell Nymphetel was male.”
“That’s just because you didn’t look at his schlong!”
The angry shout was followed by an awkward moment of silence, with a very confused vampire regarding the pair with her brow raised.
“It makes sense in context,” muttered the fairy.
“I’m pretty sure the context just makes it worse,” said the cat.
“No it doesn’t! It’s his fault for wearing clothes I can see through.”
Natalya opened her mouth to speak again, but Arciel cut her off by clearing her throat. “While this certainly does appear to be quite the interesting discussion, I believe we should take a moment or two to decide our next course of action.”
“Wait, we should?” the fox blinked. Thrice. “I thought we were taking a break. Since uhm… you know.” She pointed at Claire. “She probably isn’t gonna be waking up anytime soon.”
“I would love to,” muttered the bloodmage, “but we have fallen far behind the frontrunners. The bulk of the Cadrian army may lie behind us yet, but I suspect that it is not a lack of competence that drives their pace. They are likely awaiting information such that they may make the best use of their troops. Perhaps it may be best for us to retreat while we are ahead.”
“I don’t really think it matters,” said the fox.
“The reward we are paid corresponds directly with the amount of information provided, the value of which is determined by the number of reports,” said the squid.
“Huh?” Sylvia tilted her head. “Oh uhm… that’s not what I meant. I don’t think it’s gonna matter ‘cause they’re all gonna die.” The damning claim was made as would any other casual statement. Sylvia spoke it with her face cupped in her hands and her elbows resting atop her knees, bored as could be, while all the others reacted with a start.
“Are you sure?” asked Lia. “I’m pretty sure there were a few level five hundreds in the midst. I doubt they’d go down that easily.”
“I dunno how strong they are, but uhm… you know how you guys kinda struggled with the shoggoth? Well uhhh… I was talking to its soul ‘cause I was really bored and apparently it’s not even really that strong compared to all the other stuff in the dungeon. Heck, the yhk’huraths on the ninth floor keep shoggoths as pets!”
“Great. More eldritch creatures,” groaned the cat.
“Hey! Eldritch creatures can be adorable too! Look at Claire!”
“To be clear, are you implying that Claire is a sort of eldritch creature?” asked Arciel.
“Mhm! She’s technically an abyssal horror though, not a cosmic one,” said the fox. “Oh, and don’t tell her I told you or else she’s gonna get really mad at me. It doesn’t even really matter since the category’s so broad, but she gets super picky about stuff like that for no reason.”
“That does sound like her,” said Natalya, with a strained smile. “But I’m pretty sure she knows we all know. She told me she was an abyssal scalewarden, or something like that.”
“Oh yeah!” The fox tapped one hand against the palm of the other. “I guess that might mean I’m not gonna be in all that much trouble after all.”
“None, if no one tells her,” said the rhiar. “Anyway, let’s go. I’m itching to try my hand at dueling something stronger.”
“By Griselda’s hat, Matthias.” Arciel sighed. “What is wrong with you? You do realise that we could return with this knowledge and be the only group to survive?”
“Then what? Go home, wait a few months, and then have this dungeon fly by Vel’khagan and wipe it off the map?” The mantis’ mouthparts clicked. “I know you don’t wanna play into that fake queen’s hands, but someone’s going to have to blow it up if you want anything to rule over.”
“Wait, what’s this about ruling?”
There was a brief moment of silence, during which every waking party exchanged a series of confused blinks. Even Boris tried to join in on the action, but was too late and wound up left out.
“Did Claire not tell you?” asked Arciel. “About the reason we have chosen to collaborate.”
“All I ever heard was that you tested each other,” said Lia.
“Oh crap!” Eyes averted and tail straight as a rod, the tiny fairy slowly backed off, slipping further and further into the lyrkress’ hair.
“Sylvia?”
“Uhmm… I think we were supposed to tell you but we kinda forgot,” she stuck out her tongue and nervously laughed as her hips swayed to and fro. “But we’re kinda helping her stage a coup ‘cause she’s supposed to be the rightful heir or whatever, yadda yadda. You know, the usual story stuff.”
The cat took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It took her a moment to recover. She and everyone else stayed silent as she sat down atop a pile of down, rubbed her face in her hands, and groaned.
“You really need to tell me these things earlier.”
“Hey! It’s not all my fault! Claire forgot too,” said the fox.
“I do apologize,” said Arciel. “I was under the impression that you would have known already, and while you certainly have become one of our associates now, we would not mind if you decided not to participate.”
The cat glanced at the mantis, who was already preparing for her to voice anything but an immediate agreement, before breathing another sigh. “Maybe I should’ve joined that mercenary band after all…”
