“I think there are,” I say quietly, “four directions this could go, just based on the kind of narrative logic that this Temple has shown thus far and based on what I’ve heard the two of you talk about. Well, five.” I’m staring down at the sheet of paper that Zidanya brought up. It’s a loathsome piece of propaganda, but I can’t tear my eyes away from it. “Even discarding all of the possibilities that involve fundamentally cooperating with the authorities in this scenario.”

“An it please you, I’d ask why.”

“Why I’m discarding those out of hand?” Zidanya nods at me, entirely possessed of the composure that I’m struggling to maintain. “Because they’re not real people, so it doesn’t matter, and we should take whatever route is the fastest to the greatest reward, is that the logic?”

There’s probably some sort of edge or bite in my voice, because both of my companions wince noticeably. “Adam,” Amber says softly, “I think it’s a question worth asking, and if it’s a question worth asking, it’s her duty to ask it.”

I almost ask why, why it’s a question worth asking at all, but I know better than that. We ask questions like why are we refusing to do this unconscionable thing all the time in a lot of scenarios and for a wide variety of definitions of unconscionability. We ask because it’s valuable to say the words out loud, we ask because different people might have different reasons, we ask because it might be unconscionable to different people in different ways; but we also ask because this is not worth consideration isn’t distinguishable from I believe the social context doesn’t permit consideration of this and also from I believe everyone else genuinely opposes this and I don’t want to hurt anyone and a dozen other things.

Just because the Fleet did wrong by me doesn’t mean the Fleet was wrong about everything, after all.

“Amber told me, when we first talked tactics,” I say slowly, “that I should avoid building bad habits, basically. And that’s a lesson I’ve been failing at my entire life, when it comes to my personal life. Well, that’s not exactly fair.” I shake my head at myself, lips quirking a little. “I worked out, I ate well, I slept well, took care of my biochemistry and neurochemistry and joints, I just fell in love with everyone who came into my life and was kind to me, even knowing it would go sideways. Couldn’t help it.”

“Not,” Amber says with a strange serenity, “a failure on your part, my lord, but a moral failure on theirs. But continue.”

I laugh, a short, sharp hah of laughter, since I’m fully aware that she’s not wrong about it. My eyes are still on the paper, though, and on its declaration. A Nest of VIPERS has been PURGED; the Sky Kingdom ENDURES! “How we behave,” I say quietly, “is how we behave. How we treat the powerless and the meaningless affects how we treat everyone. We will discard out of hand the possibilities that involve cooperating with the authorities because the alternative is to become, even a little bit, the kinds of people who cooperate with the authorities who do things like this.”

There’s a moment of silence after I say that, and I gently tear the broadside, that vile piece of paper, into two pieces, and then four. Amber’s hand is on my shoulder, and I let the pieces of paper go, fluttering down to the rooftop, in order to put my hand on top of hers and squeeze.

It’s reassuring. It’s something.

“Four directions, my lord?”

“Four directions. Option one is immediate, widespread violence, which we’re not doing for the various reasons we’ve all three brought up.” I look at Zidanya, but she’s already nodding before I even start. She notices, and starts snickering at me; I mutter something incoherent and embarrassed, but I’m grinning more than I’m grimacing. “Option two, we play it straight. Meet up with the rebellion, empower them, kill the Sky Kingdom’s…” I look at the two of them. “Help me with a word?”

“Enforcers?

“Overseers?”

I blink. “I think you two thought I was going in different directions there. I was going to say enforcers, but yeah, their overseers too, sure. Anyway, we do that, foment and enable a rebellion in a hurry, what with the rebellion probably being right at a crux point, and kill the … King, I guess.

“Option three, assassination, we sneak into the palace and cut the head off the snake, then work our way down until we get a mission accomplished notification and our exit. This probably happens when we kill whoever is the anchor for the scenario, like Zidanya was for hers, or when we ‘complete’ the scenario, whatever that means. And relevantly, option four, we find the anchor specifically, suborn them, and bind them, this time probably taking fewer risks.

“We are not,” I say, trampling over whatever each of them was going to say with a raised hand, “going to do any of these.”

There’s a series of looks between the two of them. I wait, patiently, until Amber nods. “Then what,” Zidanya says calmly, “shall we do instead? Magelord.”

That rocks me back on my heels a bit. “You’re not-”

“Do you give me the slightest of graces, I shall take it as a kindness.” Zidanya cuts me off. She’s got a complex expression, and I can’t help it, I need to understand; I flare [Insight], feeling my mana plummet - she’s scowling, it’s ill grace in one respect but that’s because you didn’t give her respect. She respects your reasoning and doesn’t necessarily disagree, and she considers you to have the right to make the decision. She takes, to some extent, offense that you aren’t soliciting her opinion, but she knows you would let her argue the point if she felt it necessary. She’s offended, yes, but she’s offended because you’re questioning her loyalty to you and respect for you by doubting her willingness to follow your lead and her faith that you have a plan to follow in the first place -

I sit down heavily, almost slamming down on the roof, as my mana hits zero. “Oh wow, my head.” The world blurs around me, like I’m seeing through a wall of water - ah, right, tears, I am seeing through water. I draw in a shuddering breath and breathe out without screaming, somehow, as the hammer strikes again and again from inside my head, and then there’s a warm pair of hands on my scalp, and the pain starts clearing.

“Can you hear, Adam? We need to leave. Zidanya said the mana pulse from that was visible, and has gone to scout for…”

“For incoming?”

She smiles, and the muscles in my spine and neck unknot a little. “As you say, my lord. Are you able to move?”

“Good question.” I reach up, and she hauls me to my feet. I stretch, reaching high, and bring one foot up, arms coming down to point straight out; I’m shaky, my hands and my core both, but I don’t fall. “Empirically, I think yes. Do we have a path?”

“Have you a path, oh Leviathan in these waters, calamity unto plans should those plans require avoiding notice?” Zidanya’s acerbic tone is obvious even to me. She’s striding out of the shadows on the roof, breathing hard. “They come from both sides of this street, from the alley behind and to our right, and from the air too. We have no more than a minute.”

“But not from below.” I’m scanning the area. “Right? And they’re all, uh, automata?”

“Aye and aye.”

I tap Amber’s arm unhurriedly as I channel what little mana I’ve recovered into [Imbue Mote]. “Strength boost. Break us a path down, all the way down.” I pop an Amplify and a pair of Empower motes, and she nods in understanding.

She focuses mana through her gauntlets to summon a weapon, and her hammer comes down fit to wreck worlds.