On the night of the Donner feast, the life of Sloan Ksar hit rock bottom. Sloan had only one person to whom he could turn in times of stress, but that person had a life of her own. Her name was Kylee Stern, and she could no longer tolerate the ambiguity of her relationship with Sloan. Ironically, she had been the one to confess her feelings for him. She knew he felt the same, but she also knew that his duty to his family’s legacy was more powerful than his love would ever be. After six months of pretending that Sloan would one day put his work aside and decide to become her husband, she had taken matters into her own hands. She began spending time with another man, the carpenter Mr. Jennings. Kylee had little love for Jennings, but it healed her soul to spend time with a man willing to devote his full attention to her. On the night of the Donner feast, Sloan came to Kylee’s home with the intention of spending the night with her. He had brought with him fresh bread and a bottle of expensive liquor from The Praetorian’s premium stores. He found her in the midst of preparing to visit Mr. Jennings. She wanted very badly to spend the night with Sloan, but out of respect for herself she went ahead with her plans. Sloan played the part of the friend, helping her to dress up for another man. He smiled and waved as she set off for Jennings’ little home in the Crafts District.

Sloan deserved every bit of what his life had become and he knew it. He deserved the riches he had collected for a revolutionary society that would never repay him. He deserved all of the respect he had garnered over two decades of living for the cause of change. He also deserved to be alone. He had not given Kylee the love she deserved, and now he suffered the consequences.

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Sloan set the bread and wine in the quaint little basket beside Kylee’s door. He removed his coat, overshirt, and riding pants, and placed them beside the food. He stripped from his neck the pendants given him by Sylvia Marie - Santus, and from his wrists the bracelets with which he communicated with important guild representatives. He nestled the jewelry in the folds of his doffed clothing. Now, he wore only a silk undershirt, thin athletic shorts, and the legionnaire’s longsword upon his belt. He removed the belt, and tossed it carelessly atop his other belongings. Sword and scabbard in hand, he began to run down the center of the empty road.

Sloan The Church of Old Volcarys just as the bronze relic in its chapel tower tolled midnight. He jogged east on Corinth Street until it became Market street, and west on Market Street until he arrived at Champion’s Row. He paused to catch his breath here, for he had been running for half an hour already. The heroes of all epochs of human development seemed to pity Sloan with their petrified faces. It occurred to Sloan that many of these men and women had likely sacrificed love for duty as well. The thought made him feel silly and vain, and he forced himself to run on. If not for the plan for which Sloan felt responsible, he might have fled to the Garden District to take his own life. He certainly would have taken Mr. Jennings’.