Those watching the Game were confused, as the feed cut out when the Servant Branch went to his knees. The Game was fickle, and never truly showed every moment. Whatever occurred now was truly only known the Surmount Butler and the Servant Branch.

The High Lord watching from atop his Tree Top palace frowned as he leaned forward impatiently. "What are they discussing?"

The companion with him was ignoring him as she worked to patch the Space she rent and nearly destroyed at his behest. High Lords rarely were told what to do, and she seemed to sulk unduly.

He was impatient, and reached out with his vast power, as deep as a Qials Chute, as wide as a Liaowkn Road. The Game resisted his interference, but he was hardly one to be discouraged by it's dislikes.

He spent more authority than a dozen Midlings earn in a decade, but he coerced the Game to allow him to spy.

Then he made a face of confusion. "Who is this?"

At last his companion looked toward him, and at his viewing of the Game.

"It...appears to be a Servant of the O'Tells."

"I can't see anything else, it is focused so closely upon her plain nose. Why?"

"I...do not know."

"Is she part of the Game?"

"I don't think so..."

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Change.

That was what Daniel needed.

He needed to change.

He had believed, despite being dis-proven, again and again, that the rules would be followed. He had been honest.

In the Dungeon, when he had tried to bargain for the Entity to allow Kenton to leave without being harmed, the Entity had mocked him. But that was outside the Seelie Realm, or at least so far away from the Seelie Realm that the thickness and density of the Law of Fae was muted.

But here he was....attempting to use the game to force people down a path. So many did not follow the path. They played fast and loose. They took loses just for spite. They strained the truth so tightly, wrapping their narrative around different facts, tucking away aspects that were unflattering, that the Law of Fae itself would hardly recongize the presented package as Truth, although there was no lie.

The Surmount Butler got to humiliate Daniel, and still not allow him to open the door.

Daniel felt cold and tired.

He had wanted power. Power to help people. Instead of ruling, he had been forced into the role of a Servant.

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How could a Servant ever affect change?

As far as he knew, a Servant could not.

How could the lest of these ever amount to anything?

The Golem was still outside, and Daniel felt ashamed as he realized that not only had he forgotten about her, he had thoughtlessly endangered another lowly Fae. So accustomed was he to his Circle, his status, and his rank, that he had not realized the danger his own presence brought to those around him.

Before, he had reasoned that the Law of Fae would keep the little Fae safe.

But his faith was strained.

So many powerful Fae lied. And yet the Law of Fae still enshrouded them with Influence, still bejeweled them with Favor, still wreathed them Authority.

Lordling Fedar had sold out his Circle Members, and was now the newest Lord of the Sky Court.

While the righteous had grown disillusioned and disinterested. Parcel, the most Talented member not only of his Circle, but also many adjacent Circles, now passed over and a ghost of his former self.

Rage.

"I have only sought to do what was right."

"Right for who?" Sneered the Butler. "Right for your Court? Right for yourself?"

Daniel did not answer.

He did not do it for himself.

And he did not do it for his Court.

Why had he done it?

Why had he, time after time, sought to improve himself? Sought to save the Rural places? At first, because it was a duty. A contest, to beat the other Circles.

But as his skills improved, and there was no one to compete with, he had still fought for the Rural Place. There was no benefit to himself. His Faction looked good, but the leaders of his faction had barely tolerated him, and outsiders of his faction only excluded him further. He had not done it for them.

He had done it because the higher morality had demanded it. Without reward, do it anyway.

Where had this greater Right come from?

Not from himself, that was sure. He knew he was weak, weary, and ultimately wicked. But he had always had the idea that he should not be those things, and he should not allow those things to have full range of his actions.

So where had this Superior Right come from? What sheet music so ensconced his heart? That he could not walk away and see the innocent die? That he could not break faith, even without an oath.

"I don't know by whose benefit motivates me. What 'right' is so powerful that it compels me." The rage at the suffering he had witnessed flared to life inside Daniel. "But I only know when it is broken that I cannot live without seeing it put to Right." The Law of Fae glowed in amber embers around Daniel's words. A Deep Truth.

The Surmount Butler took a step backward, as the flaring embers sparked, then burned away. He scuttled back to where he was standing before, allbeit a hair further away. "Words of a child. Then you will die for nothing."

The terrible weight of that question was on him. Death was the ultimate enemy of the Fae. Fae, who need not ever die should they accumulate enough power. Fae, who could live for centuries and centuries until their very essence was so in-tune with nature that there was very little left to interact with. There were ghosts of Fae, hidden in the pockets of the world, who had been alive when the First King reigned.

Daniel considered the face of Witness. The face of the Rural Places and the Wee Fae that lived therein. The small faces of the children.

The former Lordling felt the rage leave him, the confusion. The Law of Fae may fail him, may allow the wicked to reign and the righteous to blow away like smoke. But...

Daniel smiled, standing up. He had tried to beg, and was denied. He felt reassurance he could not explain. "If I die, even if it seems meaningless, then at least I die doing the right thing."

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The Surmount Butler took a shuffle step back, confused. The Servant Branch did not look haughty now.

No. It was worse.

He looked majestic. The certainty that the universe will unfold the way one intends merely because one deems it necessary. His hair was golden white, his eyes shimmering blue. At his right hand, fingers curled without thought, the impression of a flaming sword.

(Name) did not know what he would have done or what would have happened next, except that they were interrupted.

Someone knocked on the side door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.