‘Gresley,’ Sham spat.

‘That is your takeaway from all of this?’ Harcourt asked, eyebrow raised. ‘The name of a man you do not know?’

‘Oh, we’ve met,’ Sham replied. ‘I didn’t know who his “masters” were at the time, but… Yeah, now it makes sense. Now it’s all starting to make sense.’ Sham glanced down to the bindings around his wrists—a thick, coarse rope which only the strongest of men would be able to snap.

Kryl stepped forward, out of the shadows at the sides of the room and into the pillar of light that shone down onto the old king’s crown. ‘The Prime Minister has had his turn,’ he said. ‘It is time for a regime change. You know as well as I, Mr Tilner, that this government could not last forever.’

‘Couldn’t it?’

‘Please. I’ve seen the city. I’ve—’

‘You’ve seen the Sunrise District,’ Sham corrected him. ‘You ain’t seen the city. Not where I come from.’

‘On the contrary! Our trip to your friend’s dingy little basement was not my first foray into that hellhole of a neighbourhood. Far from it. I have seen how the government has failed you. I have seen how it has failed your people. How could Enoch hope to maintain power over—’

‘So that’s your reasoning, is it?’ Sham retorted. ‘Come off it. You don’t give a fuck about me or anyone in the Harbour. I ain’t even sure you care about anyone but yourself and your queen.’

Harcourt glanced at Kryl.

‘So,’ Sham continued, ‘is it just her? Is it just that you want to do this for your new queen? Does she have that much power over you?’

‘Funny you should use that word…’

‘Queen?’

‘Power,’ Kryl corrected him.

‘Ah, yeah. Right. So that’s what it is; you get a sniff of more power and suddenly that becomes your life’s work.’

‘I do believe there is not a soul upon this earth to whom that does not apply. Am I correct, Harcourt?’

The other man nodded.

Sham scoffed. ‘You lah-di-dah types are off your fucking rockers. You really think everyone’s after power? Most of us are just after our next meal, Kryl.’ He shook his head to himself. ‘Power,’ he repeated, almost laughing.

‘It matters not why we do it. Only that we do.’

‘The thing is…’ Sham started, then wrenched his hands free of his bindings with only a little effort actually expended, the thick rope cracking as it split.

‘You’re welcome…’ Vigour remarked.

Harcourt and Kryl’s eyes widened, the latter moving for his weapon.

‘The thing is,’ Sham repeated, ‘I really, really, want to be convinced. To hear that there’s another option, that we could bin off this arsehole of a prime minister and have someone better take his place—I did see this crown before, you know. That’s why I sat here, listening, not freeing myself even when when I knew I could.’

Kryl glanced down at the snapped bindings, and Sham made a show of looking at them as well.

‘Would take someone super strong to snap those ropes, eh? Just fortunate I got myself a Vigour vial last Loop, I suppose.’ He went quiet, and with it, the room fell into a moment of silence.

‘Well?’ Kryl asked, finally shattering it. ‘Are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Convinced, Mr Tilner. Are you convinced?’

Sham let himself sigh. Deeply.

QUEST LIST

…

LIFE IN THE REVOLUTION

Pick a side in the coming storm.

…

Here it was. Here was what that mysterious quest actually referred to. The government, or the monarchy. Pick a side.

Truth was, Sham wasn’t convinced. Not in the slightest. He’d spent the best part of his life dreaming of a better government, but part of that dream was that it was a government. Not a monarchy. Democracy was still non-negotiable. The idea was tempting, sure. To see them all go. To see them all thrown to the wolves—preferably literally—and for Haven to have a shot at change, for better or for worse. He’d get the experience, too, for completing the quest. A shot at another skill, or an upgrade, without suffering the consequences of another irritating voice in his head.

‘Oi!’

But… no. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t betray his values, everything he stood for, just to replace one evil with another.

Kryl didn’t need to know that, though.

‘Yeah, Kryl. I guess I am. Anything’s gotta be better than… this.’ He gestured to the room around him, as though the interior of a Dripcanal casino was representative of the city at large.

Both Kryl and Harcourt breathed their own sighs. To them, they had got themselves another ally. Another pawn to be used in their queen’s schemes.

In reality, though, all they’d gained was a spy on the inside of their own operation.

Day 2

When Sham was finally freed from Harcourt’s casino, he found himself with some time to kill. Morning had already dawned upon the second day of the Loop, but it wasn’t until day 8 that Sham truly had plans. In six days’ time, he would finally get to talk with Julya. In six days’ time, he might finally know what was driving her to the Tower again and again and again.

In six days’ time.

Before the Vigour vial, Sham would have been far overdue a night’s rest, and the lack of sleep would have had lasting impacts on his energy levels for weeks to come. But, now… losing a night’s sleep wasn’t the end of the world. He ambled on towards home anyway, but came to a stop not at the door of his apartment, but at a tea room he’d visited two or three Loops earlier.

‘Three,’ Recollection clarified.

Across the way, a peeling old sign announced the building behind it as the Harbour Temple of Zeus, though again Sham could see none of the Architect’s influence in this dingy part of the city. He sat staring at a statue of the church’s eponymous god as he sipped at a tea that was a bit weak for his liking, and considered his next move.

In a couple of days, Sham could arrange a deal with Asa. He knew this strategy well, by now: he’d enter the warehouse, claim he had a meeting with the big man, and tell him he can handle the Plenty Harbour drop-off for him. Though he wouldn’t give quite so much detail, because that could only draw suspicion. Then he’d return, later, and demand another skill vial.

‘We’ve talked about this…’ Recollection said.

‘What you scared of?’ Vigour replied, taking the very words right out of Sham’s mouth.

‘I can manage another voice up in there without my head exploding, you know,’ Sham whispered back, keeping his voice low so the cafe’s other patrons wouldn’t be able to overhear; he was growing a bit sick of the strange glances he’d got over the past few weeks.

‘Yeah, see,’ Vigour continued. ‘Or is it that memory? You scared another one of us might break your hold over him? Show Sham the memory that you’ve been keeping secret?’

Sham nearly choked on his tea. ‘What memory?’ he asked, speaking now at a normal volume, distracted from such things as shame.

‘Yeah, go on, tell him. Tell him what I saw down them infinite corridors.’

There came no reply from Recollection, and Vigour seemed strangely quiet, too.

‘What’s Vigour on about?’ Sham asked. ‘What are you keeping from me? What don’t I remember?’

There came no reply.

Try as he might, Sham couldn’t get angry about it. He couldn’t think of anything he might’ve forgotten, though he supposed that was kind of the point. He couldn’t—

‘Oi!’ someone nearby shouted, and Sham cast a cursory glance over his shoulder to find that the source of the cry was staring at him.

It took Sham a moment, even with Recollection’s help, to realise that he knew the man. ‘...Fog?’ he asked.

Fog didn’t look happy. He did not look happy at all. A scowl was firmly etched into his brow, his mouth was firmly warped into a snarl. And his glare didn’t shift from Sham for a second.

‘Fog?’ Sham said again. ‘How are you?’

His old associate stepped forward slowing, menacing enough that the cafe’s other customers—sitting at two tables to Sham’s right—stopped their conversations and stared at the approaching man.

‘How… am I?’ Fog repeated. ‘How the fuck do you think I’ve been?’

‘I… well, I dunno. I ain’t seen you, have I?’

‘Course you ain’t. I been in jail. For years. All cos me and Tripe were down a man when we robbed that jewellery store.’ Customers around them began to shift, one slipping away from her table. ‘Back when you first met your missus. Where is she, anyhow? Would’ve liked to have a word with her, and all.’

Something glistened in Fog’s right hand.

[SEASONED] THE REFLECTION: SUCCESS

You break his gaze, he strikes. He’s close enough now. Don’t look away. Don’t break eye contact.

Without looking away from Fog, Sham reached down for his cup of tea and took a sip, acting as casual as he could manage. ‘Gone,’ he said. ‘Long gone.’

‘Shame,’ Fog said, reaching the other side of Sham’s table and making a show, now, of the blade in his hand. ‘She was a pretty one. I would’ve liked to have ruined that for her.’

Man stared at man for a moment longer, eyes locked in battle. Sham wished he could say he didn’t want the fight he knew was coming, but he did. Something deep within him—something dark, something new—it yearned for it. Made Sham hungry for blood.

Both men knew this. Both men gave the other the chance to act first.

But then they both moved at once.

While Sham pushed his chair back, its metal legs screeching across the brick floor, Fog rammed the tables into Sham’s thighs. He buckled for a moment, caught by surprise, before grabbing the table himself.

FEAT OF STRENGTH (VIGOUR)

Yes. Launch it at him. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

The table flew through the air, knocking the wind out of Fog and causing him to tumble to the floor. The man—Sham’s old friend, he was forced to remind himself—jumped back to his feet, waving his knife forward.

With a fury building inside him, Sham threw himself at Fog, his instincts not caring an ounce for the flailing blade. He was lucky, though; the blade only nicked the top of his shoulder before Sham was behind it, his hands at the other man’s throat. Already, with Vigour’s assistance, the fight was over.

‘Why?’ he snarled.

At this point, he heard the shouts and screams echoing around him, but he did not care.

‘You cost me everything, Sham,’ Fog replied, matching the snarl. ‘Lost my whole life cos you didn’t show, that night. Had a fucking long time to think about that. Feels only right that you pay for it.’

The man twisted his right hand towards him, but Sham had found himself expecting it. He met the right hand in his own left, forcing the blade away from him, and then—with a squeeze—forcing the blade to clatter to the ground.

‘With my life, is it?’ he demanded. ‘And Her life, too?’

Fog grimaced at him. ‘Yes,’ he spat.

Sham punched him. And, before he knew it, he’d done it again.

FEAT OF STRENGTH (VIGOUR)

Again, Sham! Again! More! Harder. Hit him harder, Sham. Break him.

He felt Fog’s nose break behind his knuckles, felt a nausea rise within him, but he bit through it.

‘You’d hurt her?’ Sham shouted at the man. ‘You’d hurt her for my mistakes?’

He slammed his fist into the man’s face again. By now, Fog was dazed, was blinking through the blood and the pain. But Sham… didn’t care.

FEAT OF STRENGTH (VIGOUR)

Ah-hahaha! Look how it bleeds. Make it worse. Make it worse, Sham. Make it so he’ll never dream of attacking anyone ever again.

A hand wrapped itself around Sham’s wrist, holding it away. If there hadn’t been something about the touch that had given Sham pause, he would have continued. But there was something familiar about it. Something that made Sham snap out of his red-tinted ire and look up at the person standing over him.

‘Enough,’ Riot said. ‘Enough.’

Sham glanced from friend to bloodied ex-friend and back to friend once more. He nodded. ‘Enough.’