The mood was somber on the meadow as I walked through the neatly arrayed rows of wights, patiently waiting for their orders. I had already gone through this ritual — counting and inspecting — half a dozen times, the numbers never changing, their condition still the same, yet I kept doing it, mostly out of rote.

It was a mind-numbing exercise that I should have been done with days ago, yet I couldn't find in me the will to move forward with my plans.

There were four thousand of them, in all, most still sporting the signature robes or armor of the Order of Yain. The Dead Legion veterans, the ones who'd survived the battle for Ravenrock, were few and far between — not counting the ones that had been used for spare parts, to patch up those still salvageable.

I looked up, into the eyes of a behemoth of a man wearing plate armor, and I almost recoiled at his empty gaze. Lifeless as it was, it still felt as if it was silently judging me from beyond.

As I was making my rounds yet again, I refocused my thoughts on the battles ahead of me. If conquering the continent was what I needed to finally return to a peaceful life, then that was what I would do — head west, fighting whatever opposed me until they all submitted.

Ravenrock and its surrounding barony were not an issue — there had been some pockets of rebellion from time to time, but I would ensure their compliance on my way out. Canneria, though, wasn't nearly as simple. I had taken their capital, that was true, and the people there had acknowledged me as a ruler, but Canneria was not as small and homogeneous as its eastern neighbor. The peace I'd forced the nobles into was a frail thing, held together by a thread of fear and marred by doubt — I would have to turn it into something solid as I headed west, lest they rebelled and attacked me from behind.

"You're going to dig yourself into the ground if you keep walking around in circles like that," I heard a girlish voice from behind me, breaking me out of my musings. Turning around, I saw Sarah and Shiro, both of them with weary frowns on their faces.

"Is there any point to all... that?" Shiro asked, waving a hand at the dirt path I had inadvertently created with my ceaseless inspections.

Shaking my head, I replied, "Just delaying the inevitable, I suppose."

"You don't have to do this, you know," he continued, hesitantly, poking at the ground with the tip of his boot.

"I don't, yet I do. It is... strange."

"We won't be able to talk you out of this conquest business, will we?" Sarah asked, her voice still tinted with sadness.

"No," I said, curtly.

"Okay, then," she said, glancing at Shiro then continuing after receiving a nod from him. "We'll go ahead to Selwyn and... pacify it for you."

My eyes widened a bit in surprise. "Why?"

"To deal with Lord Every. He's been stirring too much trouble in Ravenrock and, at this point, it's personal."

I squinted, trying to place the name. "The old baron's son? Right, you said he was behind the rise in crime?"

Shiro nodded grimly. "And he's been getting bolder. It's time to put an end to it."

"Very well, if that's what you wish. I'll begin moving the legion in two days — you can take a squad with you, if you think it'll help," I replied, hoping I'd be able to break myself out of my melancholy by then, and then turned around to continue the inspection.

"Ehm," Sarah coughed, ignoring the dismissal, "Boss. Are you going to visit the town before you leave?"

"I wasn't planning to, no."

"You really need to talk to Leon before you go," she said hesitantly. "Please. It's for your own good."

A wave of anger surged inside me. How did she dare think she knew what was best for me? But I clamped down on it, rage giving way to shame. She wasn't wrong, not by any means — and I owed it to Leon even more than I needed it myself.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded silently. Soon, I was standing alone on the meadow. Alone, surrounded by a legion of the dead.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said lamely. It felt inadequate, insufficient, but I had nothing better to say.

Leon's face was gaunt and weary. The funeral had been three days past, and little Peters was not even the only one he mourned — two of his disciples had perished during the fighting, having volunteered to hold back the invaders.

"Thank you," Leon replied, but his mind was elsewhere.

The silence stretched.

"I haven't been a very good friend, have I?" I asked the grieving man.

"No, you haven't." His voice was quiet and somber, which only served to drive the guilt deeper.

Shame threatened to overwhelm me, but Leon put his hand on my shoulder. I latched onto his touch like a drowning man, trying to keep myself from going under.

"I'm sorry," I said, voice breaking into a half-croaked sob.

Leon took a step forward, engulfing me in a bear hug. "I know, you stupid, air-headed bookworm," he said, and beyond the sorrow, there was warmth in his voice.

"Why do you even put up with me? I don't deserve this," I couldn't help but ask.

"Because you're my friend, you idiot," he replied simply, releasing me from the hug, "and that's what friends do."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," I said, pretending my eyes weren't wet with tears.

Leon snorted, and his lips curled in the shadow of a smile. "I'll believe that when I see it. Now go out there and give them hell."

I nodded, a faint smile on my face then left to give my final farewell.

I stood in what remained of the Trade District. Central to the town, the area had seen the worst of the fighting, and many of the buildings had fallen to Ludis's fires and explosions.

The bookstore I had come to frequent was one of the casualties of this war. The roof had been caved in, and the wooden walls were still smoldering quietly. From a distance, it might have looked like it could be repaired, but it was obvious from up close that the entire building was going to crumble apart any minute.

I wondered about Davos and found myself afraid for his fate. Had he made it through the fighting? Did he evacuate? Or was his charred corpse on the other side of the wall before me?

I was afraid of finding out. I hadn't known him very well, but he was one of the few bonds that tied me to the town. If he'd died...

I clenched my fists, closing my eyes and shutting the emotions away. Even if he'd died, I barely knew the man. I had no right to grieve him.

"I'm afraid we're closed for business," Davos spoke from the side, catching me off guard.

I turned around, wide-eyed, and felt relief flood my whole being. At least... at least one of my friends was safe. That was enough.

Davos was carrying a heavy crate in his arms, looking no worse for the wear.

"I was wondering about you," he said. "Didn't know if you made it through the attack." He crouched, setting the crate down before the shop's entrance with a soft thud. "You said you were from out of town, right? The army must have passed right by you."

"Yes..." I replied, unsure how to respond, eventually settling for, "I'm glad to see you're all right."

"Likewise," he said with a smile. "It was dumb luck on my part — I took a day off, thinking I should take the kidlet out hunting for some father and son bonding time. If it weren't for that—" he glanced at the charred store, shaking his head with a smile, "—my Evan would probably have been an orphan by now if he even survived. He saved my life, in a way."

A shiver went down my back. It had been such a close thing...

"Do you need any help salvaging?"

Davos shook his head sadly. "It's a complete loss. It doesn't look that bad from the outside, but the inside was burned entirely. I already saved what I could," he said, glancing at the crate, "but there's no recovering from this. At least I didn't put all my eggs in one basket like some other folks on the street — I used it for storage, but other people made their home in the loft above.

"But enough about me. How have you been faring? Are those kids of yours doing well?" he asked, face breaking into a smile.

I nodded, letting myself be swept away by his boisterousness. "As well as can be, though they've lost friends in the attack."

"Isn't that the truth," Davos grimaced sadly. "Hey, it's not that comfortable chatting here, in the middle of the street. Do you want to come by my place, maybe have some tea?"

I almost refused, on instinct, but the look on his face broke through my melancholy. It would have been odd for a mere acquaintance to act so friendly, but the look of pity in his eyes told me he'd seen through my poor attempts at lying — he was looking at a man at the verge of despair, a man at the end of his rope, and was extending a hand to save me from my misery. Shame at being so weak warred with the desperate need for human warmth, but in the end, the latter prevailed.

For the second time today, I didn't trust myself to speak, and only nodded quietly.

I spent the evening with Davos and Evan, basking in the warm comfort of their small townhome. It was a cozy thing, every corner packed with evidence of familial love. I had considered Sarah and Shiro to be something of a family to me, but what Davos and his son had here, in this cramped apartment, made me realize how far from the truth I was. My 'family' was a mockery of the real thing, like trying to create a painting out of nothing but a vague description.

Davos regaled me with stories of his life in Redford, of how he'd met his wife, of their life together — as well as various tidbits from his childhood. Once I managed to break out of my shell, I contributed with tales from my own youth — from the academy, some early dungeons, that time I tried to steal an Archmage's unmentionables...

Davos encouraged me every step of the way, like a mother duck teaching a duckling to fly, which felt odd to me when the man was barely half my age. By the time the sun set, I almost felt like a human again, and I realized how much I'd hurt myself by forgoing human contact for all these years.

"Thank you," I told him, from the bottom of my heart, as I was preparing to leave.

"Nothing to it," he said, "you were clearly at the end of your rope. Anyone would have done the same."

I doubted it, but I nodded anyway.

"Don't be a stranger," Davos said, his voice warm.

I grimaced. "I'm afraid I'll be leaving the town, soon. I'm not sure when I'll be back—" I stopped, realizing I didn't want to lie to the man who'd already helped me through so much. "But if you want to keep in contact, just give your letter to one of the wights. They'll make sure it gets to me."

To my surprise, Davos snorted. "I wondered how long it'd take for you to admit it."

I could only smile sheepishly. "If you ever need anything, please tell me. Even then, I don't think I could ever repay you enough."

He nodded and returned to his home. I began the slow trek to my tower, and for the first time in months, hope bloomed in my heart.