With her home in ruins, Dahlia didn’t have anywhere to go. She decided to stay at his side.

Hirrus welcomed her. Dahlia’s presence helped him hold it together. If he were alone, he would have had an emotional breakdown after every fifteen feet as he walked with Julissa’s corpse hanging limply in his arms.

With Dahlia accompanying him, he felt it was his duty to keep himself under control.

He focused on his decision tree, and listened to its commands about how to lay Julissa to rest. His own thoughts and feelings were a storm of grief that threatened to paralyze him, and focusing on his decision tree for this one thing kept his whole world from crumbling around him. He needed its direction to keep him moving just as much as he needed Dahlia. Without these two anchors, he didn’t know how he could summon the will to keep breathing. Without these two objectives pushing him forward, he may have just laid down in the ruins and waited for the building to fall in on him again.

Yenon had a cemetery a few hundred yards out from the western end of town. Hirrus was disheartened to see it empty, despite all the death in town. It meant that he and Dahlia were the only survivors. No one else was carrying their own loved ones here to be laid to rest.

The decision tree told Hirrus where to take Julissa’s body. He didn’t know how it knew what spot would serve as her grave, but when he saw it, he knew it was right. There was an unmarked stone above the spot, wide enough for two markers, and he knew the other was where Julissa would have buried him, if he’d fallen and she’d survived.

Digging the grave took time. Hirrus was glad for the physical effort it took. It helped him work through the emotions that threatened to burst from in his chest.

Julissa was dead. She had been killed right in front of him. His job was to protect people, and he’d failed the person he cared for most. Along with everyone else, it seemed.

The tactile sensation of sinking the blade of a shovel into soft dirt was a satisfying release for his feelings. It was tiring work, making him sweat even in the cold autumn air.

When the grave was dug, Hirrus lowered Julissa into it as gently and carefully as he could. He had a mad urge to lay down next to her and be buried alive at her side. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t throw his life away. There was still unfinished business.

Part of that unfinished business helped him scoop the dirt into the grave when he crawled back out of it. He couldn’t abandon Dahlia here. From his decision tree’s reaction to the attack, he knew that she would go back to the ruins of her home and behave like nothing was wrong. She’d end up dying of exposure in the night.

His freedom from the decision tree meant he could bring her somewhere where she would be safe.

They stood somberly over the grave for a long moment. Unspeaking. Hirrus tried to call to mind some hymn or prayer to speak, but his lips refused to move.

After a moment, the blank headstone filled itself in. Hirrus couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

Julissa Callabryn

Cared, and Cared for in Turn

Hirrus wasn’t sure how long they stood there. Dahlia seemed content to let him grieve for as long as he needed. He wondered what her decision tree was telling her. Did she think this was a proper funeral? Did she think the only place she could be safe was at the side of the nearest town guard?

There was no way to tell. Decision trees weren’t something you discussed openly.

Trying to figure out how to handle Dahlia was going to have to wait. Julissa’s headstone consumed his attention now.

The whole time he had been married to Julissa, he’d wondered at his luck for earning her love. Now he felt responsible for her death. Not because he’d failed her, but because he’d loved her at all.

He never deserved a woman like her.

The world had given him time with her as some kind of sick joke, so that she could be ripped away from him. She was the one who had paid the price for his hubris, and he couldn’t imagine a worse crime than inflicting that on her. He could never atone for that.

Hirrus put the thought out of his head. Julissa would never stand for that kind of thinking. She’d loved him. She told him time and again that he didn’t get lucky. He didn’t steal her away from someone more deserving. She had chosen him. Had wanted to marry him. He didn’t understand why, but he had to respect her decision. If this was the inevitable conclusion, then he wasn’t solely responsible for her choice.

Of course, that led him to the question that his grief had been distracting him from. He may have believed himself responsible for her death as a part of some existential luck-balancing system, but that wasn’t true at all. Someone else was at fault for this. They had unleashed monsters on Yenon. In the absence of the ability to protect the people of Yenon, the only option he had was to find the people responsible and exact justice upon them.

To that end, he needed answers.

First, though, he had to deal with Dahlia. And with her decision tree.

“Thank you,” he said to her when he could finally turn his eyes away from the grave.

“You two have done so much for me,” Dahlia said. “Just being here is the least I can do.”

Hirrus wiped a dirty hand across his sweaty brow. “You can’t stay here in Yenon. It’s not safe.”

“I don’t understand. Yenon is my home. I’ve given up so much to be here. I can’t just uproot myself.”

Despite her verbal opposition, the words fell flat. They were the product of her decision tree. She didn’t actually want to stay in the burned-out husk of Yenon. This was simply what Dahlia was supposed to say when someone told her to leave.

“You’ll be dead of exposure before morning,” Hirrus said. “I can’t leave you here.”

“Yenon is well cared-for,” she said, her tone eerie and familiar, “with you looking out for it.”

Hirrus shook his head with a terse frown. “Not anymore.” He gestured over her shoulder, towards the town. “There’s nothing left here.”

Dahlia followed his gesture, looking back at Yenon. It was obvious she was wrestling internally with her decision tree. He didn’t know if she could break free of it as he had. His freedom had been earned by finding where his deepest, truest self refused to accept what it was telling him.

But Dahlia wasn’t being confronted with a deep internal contradiction. Yenon was a ruin, but her home was still there.

“Come with me. I failed the rest of Yenon. Let me do my job, and find a way to keep you safe.”

Dahlia grimaced, and he was familiar with that feeling. He had felt the same thing for the first few hours of his day when his decision tree forced him to ignore unusual events. She recognized the danger, and wanted to act on it, but her decision tree wasn’t allowing her to.

“Yenon is my home,” she repeated in a hollow voice. “I’ve given up so much to be here. I can’t just uproot myself.”

“I don’t want to have to escalate this, but if you make me, your life is more important than my manners.”

“What do you mean?”

With a thin smile, Hirrus turned to her. “Dahlia, as a guard of Yenon, I’m forced to arrest you.”

“This is preposterous, I’ve done nothing wrong.” Despite her words, she had a smirk on her face. Her decision tree dictated her response, but inwardly she appreciated the loophole.

“Come with me,” he ordered, as he turned towards the entrance to the cemetery, leading her out.

Her decision tree would allow her to leave town, now that he’d arrested her. She would be required to follow him wherever he led her, but beyond that, being arrested also meant she had some manner of autonomy. If she escaped his immediate attention, she would be allowed to flee town as a fugitive. His goal was to free her from the mental shackles that would have made her go back to the ruins of her home, and arresting her did that quite handily.

“Hey,” a voice said, coming from off to the left side of the cemetery. “Survivors!”

Hirrus looked over to see who was speaking. He’d hoped for fellow survivors - another guard or perhaps a scout for reinforcements from the nearest citadel in Sheta - but his heart fell when he saw it was just an adventurer.

They ran across the cemetery, leaping over a gravestone instead of walking around.

Hirrus could tell this one was newer to the trade. Not brand-new, but not yet hardened by years of the job. He wasn’t likely to be strong enough to stand up to Hirrus, but he was likely experienced enough to know he shouldn’t make the attempt. A mishmash of mismatched armor - mostly leather, but with metal greaves and gauntlets - decorated a thick muscular frame. At his hip was a curved scimitar with a purple gem set into the pommel.

“I didn’t think anyone survived,” he said as he reached Hirrus and Dahlia. The adventurer looked them up and down like he’d never seen a person before. Hirrus was used to this behavior from newer adventurers, but he felt a stab of irritation about it now. It was one thing when he was tromping around his patrol route. It was another thing entirely to be behaving with such disrespect in a cemetery.

“Thank you for your concern, but we’ve been through a bit of an ordeal. If you could find somewhere else to amuse yourself, I’d appreciate it.”

The adventurer pointedly ignored Hirrus, instead looking around the cemetery. “Wow. LotS’s shenanigans went to a whole new level this time, huh? I knew they were ruthless but this? Absurd.”

Hirrus felt blood pulsing through his veins. “Wait. You know who did this?” He stepped forward, hands balled at his hips. “Tell me.”

The adventurer laughed. “Pff. Check out the NPC. He thinks he’s going to do something.”

“Who did this?” Hirrus grabbed the man by the collar.

“Get the fuck off me.” The adventurer laughed again, reaching up to peel Hirrus' grip off of him. “You’re a fucking NPC guard. You can’t make me.”

“But I asked nicely,” Hirrus snarled. He reached up with his other hand, yanking the man off-balance. As a guard, Hirrus' decision tree wouldn’t let him do anything dramatic unless the adventurer provoked him.

But that didn’t mean he had to act like it.

“Fine, just let go of me,” the adventurer grumbled, shoving Hirrus away. There was a moment of confusion and fear in his eyes.

Hirrus snarled but let the man go. He crossed his arms over his chest. The adventurer grumbled and wiped at the grave dirt Hirrus' hands had left behind on his collar.

When he didn’t immediately answer, Hirrus prompted him with an impatient grunt.

“Last of the Strong,” the man said. “Asshole guild out of Inoha. They did some bullshit for a raid achievement, and put out a global bulletin that no one was going to be able to quest out here until next week. I just wanted to see what happened.”

“Where can I find them?” Hirrus asked. “Where in Inoha?”

“Fuck off,” the man said, gesturing dismissively. “You don’t pay my sub.”

Hirrus drew his axe.

“Oh, real scary.” He laughed again. “You can’t hurt me. You’re an NPC guard. I don’t have to tell you anything unless I want to. I could dig up a corpse and throw the pieces at you and you’d have to stand there and let me.”

“Hm.” Hirrus said. A cold smile crossed his lips.

Despite the adventurer’s expectations, he was free of his decision tree.

He could do whatever he wanted.

And he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

The attack was meant to scare the adventurer.

To show that he was operating under a dramatic misunderstanding of Hirrus' limitations.

But all he got was a look of shock and surprise as the axe slammed home in the adventurer’s chest.

Two thousand, seven hundred, and fifty-one damage. The swing sent the man crumpled to the ground in a heap with a single strike.

Hirrus stared down at the corpse for a long moment.

It turned out he was the one with a dramatic misunderstanding of what he was capable of.