His eyes snapped open, and he looked around him.

Back in Eidolon, Pat thought. He was next to the waystone, sprawled in the grass, clad in only his boxers.

His memory was hazy, and he hurt, and he couldn’t say why. But the buildings around him were intact, though there were clouds of smoke in the distant sky, and the people standing around and staring were very much alive and unharmed.

Did we win? he wondered.

And a completely different voice whispered from the back of his mind.

Well, that’s really a matter of perspective, it said.

And though he didn’t expect it, hadn’t intended to, he found himself walking forward and spreading his arms.

“Citizens!” he heard his own mouth say and realized with horror that he was no longer in control of his body. “We have a lot to do. Let’s get started building a better tomorrow!”

Oh no. Oh no no no, Pat thought as he struggled to do something, do anything.

“Oh yes,” replied Legion, turning and beckoning a group of scribes forward. “Time for some changes around here. I know he— I told you to call me Pat before, but I’m thinking it’s time for an upgrade. Call me Patrician instead. That’s a nice upgrade, I think.”