“We are gathered here to weep and mourn the passing of a loved one.

“Her name was Sabine Moreau, daughter of Mathis Moreau.

“She was a hard worker and-”

I stopped listening after a while. You’ve seen a funeral pyre once, you’ve seen them all. The first one I attended was for my father, Nof. He died trying to capture a buck, only to find out it was not a buck at all. A not-buck, with claws that could rend stone. We found his legs near gouges in the ground the size of a man lying down. The rest of him was never found. I cried and my mom hugged me and my brother tight. We had water with salt for dinner that night. No one was in the mood for meat.

The next one was for my brother-in-arms, The Master of the Tear-Stained Blade. Decades had passed by then since I left home, and I had to put him down with my spear. I lost my face that day and had to wear a false one from then on. My comrades patted me in the back, but I think they would’ve preferred if no one had died at all. For my troubles, I was promoted to the head of my own division, free to conduct any action I deem fit. My first command was for the extermination of the damned witch that messed with my friend’s mind. We did not succeed.

My third was my wife. I did not plan to return home, but a chance look on the map drew me to the landmarks I knew too well. I planned, prepared, and finally steeled myself for the resolve to come back. In the pretext of an inspection, I led a small team to Chance Village, hoping to reconnect with a lost love. Instead, I arrived just as I saw them lay her body. There was no mark on her, not a single wound or illness. I looked at the village chief, and he merely stared at his own wife. In her arms was a sleeping toddler, smiling at whatever dreams came her way. That was the last day I ever held my spear and the day I swore off violence for good.

Until now.

Now, as the fire burned an empty effigy of my daughter’s belongings, my mind was heading towards my house. Inside, hidden and preserved by equal parts magic and fear, was my equipment. Once my mourning has run its course, I will take them out into the sun. I will welcome them as I will surely welcome death. Their magic will run through my blood once again, and my thoughts will be those only of violence.

I am Mathis Moreau.

And my spear will find justice.

“No! No! No!” I shouted inside a cramped cell. “Let me out, Sos! Let me see him! What have you done?!”

What I had to do to save us all, idiot. My sister’s voice came through like an uninvited guest. If I hadn’t cut him down, he would’ve destroyed us all.

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have gone through with it without me!” I banged at the walls in frustration. “He thought you’d try to control his mind, turn him into a mindless puppet.”

He’s absolutely right. Sos said, almost yawning in her bored tone. What was required was a tool for Angan to use, not a rogue with no belief in our cause.

“Ugh! You always do this with everyone that I like!” I screamed in frustration. “You always say that they’re “not good” enough, and then try to kill them!”

This isn’t about your stupid love affairs. Who you decide to suck face with isn’t my problem. Disgust came through loud and clear in her voice. This is about shaping the future itself, of winning the Stalemate!

“No one cares about that! It’s been ages!” I shook my head at Sos’ craziness. “Look, I only joined this stupid cult to keep your sorry ass from biting off more than you can chew. Clearly, you passed that point before I got here.”

Ah, yes. My “big sister” who’s always concerned about how I’m doing. Or rather, how she doesn’t want me to steal her spotlight. The bitterness in her words could've made poison sweet, but I didn't care.

“Oh, fuck you!” I emphasized my point by giving her two fingers. “Yes, fuck you and your problems. I’ve had it with you blaming me for all that’s wrong in your life! Get a fucking life!”

I DID! I FUCKING DID! BUT YOU HAD TO BUTT IN WITH YOUR GIANT ASS AND SHOW EVERYONE YOUR LATEST BOY TOY!

“HE IS NOT A BOY TOY! AND I DIDN’T COME IN HERE SPECIFICALLY TO RUIN YOUR FUCKING LIFE. GET OVER YOURSELF!”

THAT’S IT. I AM GOING TO GO DOWN TO YOUR CELL AND BEAT YOUR ASS. Anger and various emotions flowed into me from Sos’ mental link before it abruptly cut off.

Once I was sure she wasn’t listening, I stilled my emotions. For all the things we shared, my sister and I are ultimately different people. All she cared about was “a bright and shining future”. The costs of achieving that though, she hadn't a clue.

I joined this cult whose name I never even bothered to remember for her sake.

This is true.

I brought Carer along because I did not want to part with him.

This is also true.

Sometimes I take attention away from my sister because I got jealous.

This is truer than I’d like to admit.

If doing the right thing means making my sister hate me, then I will take that path.

Angan can go fuck herself.

It’s time to end the lie.

The thing that lay at my feet looked like a man shivering in fear. His clothes, black and all-covering, were made for moving between shadows. Hidden inside said clothes were a plethora of small weapons. A curious pattern came in and out of sight on his skin as I walked around him. A tattoo, the full extent of which I know full well to be a dragon clutching a sparrow. I have a similar one myself, though of a different variety.

“I’m sorry … I’m sorry.” The man repeated, as though it could absolve him.

You need a priest for that. I sat idly upon the thought. Or a monk. Or a cabbage seller. Or a strong drink. Thoughts of a golden-colored bottle came to mind, and I smiled. The whimpering fool beneath me took it the wrong way and cried. I gave him a firm kick to stop such nonsense.

The nerve of some people, crying in public. Shameful. I shook my head and looked toward my partner for support.

He looked back and raised an eyebrow.

Oh come on, you know what I’m thinking. I huffed at his attitude. We’ve worked together for forty years, and you still can’t read my mind. Unbelievable. I want a new partner.

“El.” My partner suddenly spoke.

“Yes?” I replied.

“The judgment.”

“I did it.” I gestured to the man lying prostrate on the ground. “I haven’t quite gotten the feeling yet for execution.”

“This is the third day.” My partner pointed to his watch. “We’re late and overdue. We won’t get paid.”

“Aren’t we doing this job for much loftier goals than money?” I said with a rising pitch. “We are the guardians of order, of law, and justice!”

My partner sighed.

I frowned.

The criminal touched my right shoe.

I kicked him once more.

He turned inside out and made a great big mess. All kinds of bit sprayed on the floor, the wall, the windows, and everywhere else. It was like red flower blooming in spring.

“Ah, damn!” I shouted as I looked at my shoes. “He ruined my best pair.”

“You have spares.” My partner walked right up to the newly-made corpse and began sizing it up. “Or maybe you shouldn’t kill them with your foot and use actual weapons.”

“I am a weapon, Di-Ca.” My partner twitched when I used his name. “We all are. That’s the point of the tattoo; to tell everyone we’re badass killers that take no shit from anyone.” I reached back and rubbed the head of my sparrow, which rested on my right shoulder blade. “The best part is that it works too.”

“Can you not say my name like that.” Di-Ca brought out a folded body bag from his many pockets. He unfolded it and laid it beside the trash and clasped his hand.

“Oh God, please accept this one into your embrace as he makes the journey to the next life, and may he repent for his sins.” He ended with a complicated hand gesture, then began stuffing the body into the bag. I looked idly as he did his job, then I remembered I had to do mine as well.

I crouched down to the various bloodstains, licking my lips before I started my meal. The taste was horrible, as usual, but the alternative was getting my ass chewed out by the Chief. This had a more literal meaning than usual since the Chief has a meat grinder for a mouth.

“Rip.” Di-Ca interrupted me as I was gulping down a stray cheek. “Can’t you eat with … more tact?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m a cannibal with no table manners. Maybe you can show me what that’s like, and I’ll be more than happy to convert to your crazy religion.” Di-Ca’s face scrunched at the word “crazy” and “religion”, but I ignored him. I hate people who do that, who try to “fix” other people’s “wrong” behavior, simply because they’re different. When I meet those types, I make it a point to never even eat their parts and just go straight to killing them outright. And maybe a thorough burning afterward, and use the ash for compost. At least then they’ll be useful for the world instead of jabbering their big mouths with nonsense.

“ … Just because I’m annoying doesn’t mean you’re right, you know.” Di-Ca lashed back, tying back the body bag. “And we’re done here, so leave the rest to the city.”

“Aww, but I still wanted to eat more.” I made my point by sucking up the marrow from a bone. “You owe me a treat now, and I want a lot of meat. Something grilled.”

Di-Ca responded by leaping away. He made it look easy, even with a body bag strapped on his back. Like a grasshopper, he hopped from roof to roof in no time at all.

“Hey, you owe me Di-Ca! Don’t run away Di-Ca!” I started after him, letting blood and viscera slide off me as I picked up speed. Behind me, I heard someone scream, followed by a commotion.

Ah, I must have missed one. I cringed as I imagined the punishment I’ll get for the blunder.

The water is chirping again. I reached my hand out to the air and listened. They’re drunk by birds, clouds, and men. And then they’re not them anymore, but still existing. They’re part of a passing thing, only to pass and be their true self again. I moved my head with the rhythm of the cycle, again and again as they played out. Their song was a melody of color I found very-

“Arnold.” I frowned at the intruder. She flinched but stayed; a commendable attitude. Since it seemed she wasn’t going to leave soon, I sighed and left my roost. She took a step back as I landed, and took another when the stench hit her.

“I’m busy.” I cawed at the obvious newbie. “Who do you work for? Haven’t they told you what happens to people who disturb me?”

“I work for Sinta. She sent me, and yes, she did warn me. She also said to tell you the news anyway.” The messenger’s leg began doing a little dance to assuage her fear. It made me smile a bit.

“Well, don’t keep me waiting then. Give me the message, pigeon.” She nodded and took out a small scroll, tied with black rope.

An urgent matter of the highest importance. I thought as I took the scroll. I haven’t seen one of these since we exiled “him”.

“You may go now,” I said to the messenger, waving her away. “Tell Sinta I’ll meet her soon.”

“I … can’t.” The woman said, earning her a glare from me. “She … commanded me to not go until you’ve read what was sent. I … have no will.” I scoffed at Sinta’s overreaction; a staple of her personality as far as I’ve known her.

“Fine, stay here. But turn around and plug your ears.” The messenger was still for a moment, then did as I instructed. Satisfied, I untied the rope and began reading.

Greetings, Master of Crows

Hosea Zai and his men are dead. Knight has evaded us.

This cannot stand.

I’ve called for a Meeting of Heads.

I invoke the Blood-Oath to ensure the presence of all.

At this point, I cringed as a feeling like a slithering snake passed through my heart. I swore but kept on reading.

There is also another matter to be discussed.

That is the true purpose of the Meeting.

May luck be in your favor.

With regards,

Mistress of Words.

I stared at the letter, trying to decide if I should burn it or throw it away. In all honesty, I didn’t share Sinta’s concerns at all about Knight’s freedom. So Zai got killed trying to enact some kind of justice on an old friend. Big deal. That he died proved his will was lacking in the end, and in the process made the Order weaker. The whole affair was one more failed revenge attempt in the history of the world. It was as ordinary as thievery and as useless as honesty.

The other thing, though, that might be worth a closer look. I scratched my forearms with one another. I then realized that the messenger was still around, though her face looked a bit blank. I leaned in and flicked her forehead. She cried out and stumbled backwards. Blood flowed from the place I struck. With her sense restored, the messenger scrambled for the exit. I snorted at her lack of manners, as the door remained ajar in her absence.

“Rude.” I said, following in her footsteps with no rush.