They’d been rather close to the Brycan family, or at least Alrynn thought they were. The family slowly gained their wealth as merchants and the occasional scientist, even earning a few honorable mentions for demon prevention techniques. Not like one would immediately be able to tell—they were a modest family. Up until the moment they showed the paycheck for a commission, that is. They often asked mercenaries to go out and gather data for them, or to go and test some new wares that someone in the family either made or acquired from the labs. It had kept the three of them afloat before, so it added another level of disbelief for Alrynn to see their corpses.

The father, wearing what was likely his best suit, it’s pristine white now covered in blood; the mother, her makeup and outfit suggesting she might’ve intended to go out to meet with friends; the twins, dressed in matching uniforms, ready to meet with their private tutors further in the city… stabbed to death or with their throats slit, since gunshots definitely wouldn’t have been something the neighbors could ignore. The only assurance Alrynn had—if it could be called that—as the fact that the younger daughter wasn’t here. Maybe she was still okay.

Or maybe she’d just been the first victim and Balros had had enough time to be a little less conspicuous with the murder.

“Look,” Balros began, slowly, as he picked himself up off the floor. “This is all just part of a job. Nothing personal.”

“You just killed four innocent people. And for what? A little bit more money than what you would’ve gotten just for accepting a commission from them? Maybe double?”

“I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse. The commissioner hunts down illegal Relic owners. He needs someone to take them out of the question and bring him the Relics. I do that, and he’s willing to keep doing business, and we split the profits. Just this job alone was supposed to be enough to pay for about a year of leisurely travel across the continent.”

“The Brycans have done nothing but try to help us ever since we met them. You’d really throw that away just for some quick and ‘easy’ money? I thought you were better than this.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You’re really trying to justify this?”

Balros sighed. “Didn’t you hear what I said this was for? They have Relics here—Relics they aren’t supposed to have. Believe it or not, I gave them the chance of handing them over peacefully, but they didn’t. And from there, there was only one of two options: they got killed, or they’d wish they were as all of their reputation crumbled in court. All I need is a specific trinket, then I’ll be done here and someone else will take care of the rest. In an hour or so, you’ll have enough money to do whatever the hell you want.”

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“No.”

“What?”

“I’m not taking anything that came from this. I’m not going to be a part of this—no matter what your reasoning is or how long we’ve been together. In fact?” Alrynn pulled out his gun—Balros had given it to him on their first job together—and tossed it on the ground. “I’m done. I told you when we first met that I was only going to stay so long as you promised not to do anything stupid—that you wouldn’t do what the others did. But you’ve crossed a line, Balros. And I’m not about to let go of my morals to jump in the deep end with you.”

And then Alrynn just walked out. He didn’t want to be associated with this, not any longer than he’d already been.

He passed Veru on his way back into the streets, but he didn’t say anything to her. She made some meager attempt at trying to persuade him, though it was clear that she’d known about it, too; she might’ve tried to hide it, but she knew every bit of what Balros did. And Alrynn had a pretty good feeling that she believed in what Balros told her—she was a smart and outspoken enough person she wouldn’t have gone along with it if she didn’t.

Which just meant that Alrynn was alone again. The realization, nor the contemplation that came with it, really fazed him. It was another fact, another point where he could say he didn’t let the ideas of money or fame or vengeance get to him.

He didn’t know where he’d go, not really. All he knew was that he probably had enough for a night at an inn with the spare change he kept on him just in case. Maybe even enough to get him out of town, but he figured he didn’t have to go far. He remembered, during one of his smoke breaks, someone mentioned there was one study or another going on at the nearby shooting range—something about the average citizen’s firearm knowledge. He could easily help out there and get enough extra money to let him get to a town with better opportunities.

He just hoped, for their sake and for his, Balros and Veru would understand he wasn’t going to come back.

Despite everything, he couldn’t stop himself from wandering into a bar. He told himself he wasn’t going to get anything. He only intended to sit there, listen to all the rumors, and plan his next course of action accordingly.

But, well, the longer he sat there, the more he realized he could’ve done something. And the further he dwelled on it, the easier it was to fall prey to the regret, the anger, the grief.

And what else was one to do with those feelings, if not order a drink and let the alcohol wash them all away?

Amidst his drinking, he heard a couple of people talking about Vresta. He couldn’t say he was a big fan of the dry heat, but they made it sound like there were a lot of opportunities there. So, he decided, that was where he’d go once he had the funds to make sure he could get there. A change of pace couldn’t hurt.