“What?” the questioned burst out of Ranvir. The exclamation violent enough to cause something in his stomach to seize up. Though the pain quickly faded to gray, Ranvir still felt the muscles in his belly clench angrily.

Sabas looked at him worriedly. “I… I’m not sure what you mean.”

It took Ranvir a couple moments to regain enough control to reply properly. Coughing twice, he fell back against the wall. “You said ‘the genocide came after.’”

Sabas nodded somberly.

“Hyperbole?” Ranvir ventured cautiously.

Sabas turned his head away and licked his lips.

“You cannot be serious,” Ranvir almost got agitated enough to have another fit. “Do I have the right word? Genocide, the wholesale slaughter of a people. Tell me that’s not the definition.”

Sabas hung his head once more. Ranvir could almost feel his eyes digging holes into the stone.

“Oh…” Ranvir muttered, realizing he was dead. Sabas must be playing with him. He had to be. Acting the repentant now, only to twist it about later. I have to buy time, Ranvir thought, Can’t alert him, yet. He swept his tether-sense through the nearby area again. He was close to the entrance, but could he get there? “Why?”

Sabas sighed. “It wasn’t meant to end like that. Bacenor didn’t send out recruiters advertising for a ‘Genocide War.’ It was as regular a rally as you can reasonably get when someone with close to the most personal power on the entire plane starts recruiting. He had money, travel, and equipment for offer. Cheaply too. It was a mercenary’s wet dream. The chance to outfit your entire company and pick up a ton of spares for cheap, while also gaining a well-paying job.”

He waved his hand through the air. “The first few skirmishes went fine, nothing special. The old country people had been enslaving the countryside-“

“Enslaving?”

Sabas looked at him with tired eyes. “I don’t know the details. I’m not sure anyone does, but Bacenor’s origins weren’t painted in piety and pure intentions. His animosity for them didn’t come from nowhere, presumably. Slavery was not their sole sin.”

“What else? Something worse than slavery?”

“I try not to rate the atrocities we commit to each other. Beyond a certain point, it only further dehumanizes the victims. At least in my mind.”

“How you would rate genocide?”

Sabas gave him a deadpan look. “Among the worst.”

Ranvir regarded the man skeptically, unable to stop his eyes from momentarily narrowing.

“The old country’s leadership realized what was happening as Bacenor kept bringing more and more armies onto their battlefields. The Arkrotas had spent centuries building up his base of power, a foundation of cold gold and calculations. He did no more than hover above the armies, watching as the armies arrayed themselves at each of the major battles. So they turned to their archives, looking for anything to assist their underdeveloped armies.

“They summoned a Host of War,” A shudder ran through Sabas. “I’d never seen anything like it at the time. It rapidly moved through their army, hardening their morale, strengthen their grips, and reforge their spines. A haze of reds, ranging from pale almost yellow to shades so dark a burgundy they couldn’t rightfully be distinguished from black.”

Latresekt didn’t react to the captain’s words, not a twitch or hitched action. Though, as Ranvir thought about it, he realized the spirit had failed to react to any of his external stimuli. Was it perhaps so consumed by its task that the spirit failed to realize what they were talking about? More worryingly, was Ranvir in so much pain that the creature could not perceive anything else?

Loce, Ranvir turned his thoughts toward his soul. He didn’t know if the storm locust could hear him, but this was his only attempt. Begin saving power, as much as you can hold. I will feed you what I can, but we might be in a tight spot. If Latresekt was truly out of the loop, then Ranvir should probably be in shock, or dying. Instead, he was functioning like normal. Sand was clogging up his injured arm and the wound through his stomach.

“At some point, the host realized what kind of feast was waiting for it. They just had to be brave enough to take the leap,” Sabas continued. “And bravery is part and parcel to constitution of war. The host attacked and infected Bacenor. Supplied with an army, the host had slowly begun spreading throughout them, feasting on their meager souls…”

Sabas picked up a stone flake, probably one he’d cracked off the wall just earlier. He pinched it between two fingers, inspecting it. It was gray and unremarkable. One end had a ragged line so thin Ranvir could see light pass through it, while the other end seemed thicker and rougher. Somehow with stone it made sense that the part that was broken was smooth and clean looking, while the rough bit had looked rough for the last half century and would continue for another.

“I remember spirits bursting from Bacenor’s body and falling on both sides. With just their momentary access to his spirit, the host turned into a horde. Before this conflict, there were no reliable modern recordings of what a horde of war spirits could do. Personally, I only remember flashes. Cutting my way through armed forces, then fleeing soldiers, then villages. I remember a field so soaked in blood people needed ropes to cross it. I remember witnessing debauchery on a city-wide scale, because they knew the horde-driven army was coming for them.”

Sabas grew quiet, lost in memories. Pained by them, that much was clear through his expression, whether purposefully or not.

“I remember enjoying it,” Sabas said quietly, barely a whisper. His chin quivered. “I liked the heave and swing of the spear. The twist and stab. The warm spray of blood. I remember these moments. I loved it, and I know I’m destined for punishment. Apisaon doesn’t have the imagination to do to me what I deserve. Men, women, pets, and children. All of them felt the steel I carried in my hand.

“According to reports,” Sabas continued, his voice forcibly stronger. “It only took three weeks. The other Arkrotasia kept the horde from spreading, but they couldn’t risk getting too close without having to fend it off themselves. It was only when Bacenor fought off the influence that he could stop the conflict. At that point, it was too late. Bacenor the Mountain Heart became known as a monster and a tyrant all across Korfyi. It was a known fact, told to children in from tiniest hamlet to greatest city. He tried to recover his reputation, but his heart didn’t seem in it. He set up his council and has retreated from the world ever since.”

“Damn,” Ranvir muttered, raising one leg to rest his good a- his only arm on his knee.

Sabas looked at him for a long moment, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “’Damn’? You suck.”

Ranvir frowned. “Why?”

Sabas didn’t respond, instead he just started chuckling. It soon devolved into full on giggling. The old warrior man falling onto his back as his body was wracked the violent and spasmodic laughter.

“So where were you going with this?” Ranvir asked, struggling to recall why Sabas was confessing his sins to him.

“I-“ the mercenary started to say. “I’ve been thinking for the past few days about what happened. What led me into this position. I’ve been examining my behavior, again and again and again. I’ve been a poor leader and, perhaps worse, a thoughtless one.

“I was doing mercenary work, because that’s what I’ve always done. I’ve been objectively morally wrong before, and I’ve hated it before. And somehow, I couldn’t see a way out. Actually, it was worse than that. I never even looked. Despite feeling dissatisfied with what I’ve done in my time, I just kept going. Afraid of what I’d find if it stopped long enough to check.”

Ranvir didn’t reply, silently praying that the mercenary would get to his point faster. Within two minutes would probably be preferable. Unless, of course, he was telling Ranvir how he’d become okay with killing. Then he could take another five minutes.

“But it turns out that these kinds of things keep chasing you until you grow too tired to run,” Sabas shook his head. “I feel relieved in a way. It’s like the world has opened before my eyes. I never knew how much I needed this. Something, someone, who could force me to look at who I’d become.”

Is this good or bad?

“I’ve long held the belief that you find out what men are truly made of when you threaten their lives. I’ve seen myself as a selfish man, but you once threatened became a protector. A hero to the scout and the kid.”

This… is bad?

“You weren’t able to force me into life or death, but you showed me I’d been stagnant. Stuck in a rut that I hadn’t even noticed. A wheel that kept spinning on the spot over and over. The wheel of a cart, but the wheel of a mill. Crushing and crushing and crushing. Uncaring for what I’d trapped underneath me, whether grain or arm.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Sabas grimaced, his brows remaining furrowed as he glared at Ranvir. “No.”

Sighing, Ranvir let his head fall back against the wall one last time. “Good, but it would’ve been better to know. Let’s say two minutes ago.”

“Two minutes-“ Sabas interrupted himself as he finally slung his own tether-sense loose, just in time to recognize the energies barreling towards them. The pillar crunched and swayed as the two serpents bashed into it, their bodies coiled around each other.