Logan had to admit, the camp was looking great. The bustle and excitement was palpable. With faint smiles and keen focus people worked on this and that with their new device. Logan really, really hoped he was wrong.

Tumor, am I wrong?

[There is a 92.55% chance that I would have the ability to sense a deviation in your neural activity were it altered. It is impossible for me to say for certain whether or not the Faelves were lying, but I did run simulations, assuming you would ask this of me. There is a 17.82% chance you were lied to, so the Faelves could weaken and exploit our position.]

Logan shrugged. He had to trust his gut. These people deserved to know and then make their decision. Logan’s father was making decisions for them, which admittedly was fine for a leader, but this was far from palatable.

I need to get Freya safe and then ensure these people have an alternative.

The [Fisherman] named Daniel, a balding, chunky sort of man was just dropping off a bundle of fish to a lady in her forties that Logan didn’t recognize. She was probably a [Cook] with her makeshift kitchen of tables, clay cups and bowls and knives. Now there was even a cooking oven provided by the Dorves and the knives were of intricate craft with stone handles and iron blades. The two chatted happily and shared a laugh.

Logan watched them. He could clearly see how tired both of them were. But they even flirted with each other and Daniel stayed and helped prepare the fish. These people didn’t know that more monsters would come and kill them soon. These people looked happy, or at least content.

Logan beelined to Freya. She was helping attach some kind of pipeline system that was heading towards the riverbank. Most likely a waterline. There were a dozen people buzzing around it, everyone excited to help.

Having seen this thing last week, Logan would be beyond elated. He would have buzzed about the construction there just as anyone else. Now Logan only shook his head in dejection.

At least half the people will simply refuse to believe me…

“Frey,” Logan called and motioned to follow. Freya helped them fasten the piece of pipe between sticks with a piece of vine-rope before she got up.

“What’s up?” she asked and gave him a smile.

“You need to leave,” Logan said. “Now.”

“Logan,” Freya said carefully and cast a side glance at the people working. “You haven’t thought this through.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Logan said. “But you were going to go anyway. Please do it now, Frey.”

“There’s a lot of stuff to fix up around here,” Freya said and thumbed at the pipeline.

“What needs be fixed is walls,” Logan hissed. “I need to tell at least Simmons and the construction guys to build them.”

“They will want to know why, Logan,” Freya said.

Logan only gave her a grim look.

Freya grabbed his arm. “Please for the love of goodness, think this through, Logan.”

“I won’t be my father’s lapdog. Not when he doesn’t know what’s best anymore, if he ever did. And I won’t have these people not knowing the gravity of the decisions made for them. They do not know at what cost they bought this waterline.”

A few heads nearby turned, Freya took an urgent step closer.

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“Keep your voice down,” She hissed in whisper. “Goddamn it, Logan. Just take me to the Faelves then. At least it will keep you thinking for a few more hours. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“That when I come back, there’s still something to come back to,” Freya said in a gentle, dejected voice.

Logan only pursed his lips and gave her a look of regret. “Let’s go, Frey.”

*

As Logan led the way through the swamps, he told Freya in further detail what the Faelves were like and what kinds of promises had been made, even regarding Freya. She was very excited about the prospect of getting a class of the Faelves. Not to mention the wine Logan mentioned.

When they got close enough a female Faelf of slightly green porcelain skin came to greet them. She recognized Logan and he explained to the Faelf what they were doing. With great enthusiasm she grabbed Freya’s hands and started drawing her in.

“Please stay until I come for you, Frey,” Logan said and kissed her.

“I will,” she answered demurely after then unentangled.

“I mean it,” Logan said. “I can’t handle this world if something happens to you.”

“Love you,” Freya said.

“Love you too,” Logan answered, and with that, he watched the little Faelf take her inside the dwellings of the Faelves.

When Logan made his way back from the swamps, he thought. Now that Freya was tucked away safely, it was easier to think clearly. But with that clarity came resolve and certainty. He would not kowtow to his father. He might have been the most valuable person on earth. But now he was the most foolish person. Logan could be wrong. The Faelves could be lying or maybe they didn’t know how it all worked. Logan still doubted using Levemoth’s name was a problem.

But the people at the camp deserved to know Logan’s side of the story. He wouldn’t persuade them, he promised himself. He would only tell them what the Faelves thought. And if they chose to stay, he would urge them to build defenses and arms.

But what if they didn’t stay? Would they be scattered to the four winds and die off? Logan had no alternatives to give them. He wasn’t interested in leadership.

IRRESPONSIBLE!

“Really?” Logan thought and sighed as he passed the giant frog waiting at the little pool of tar-like swamp water again. “What am I supposed to do? Build a little village of my own?”

[Why is that an objectionable option for you?]

“Because—” Logan started but stopped himself. He didn’t have a good answer.

Logan’s father had tried pushing him into all sorts of management positions for a long phase, until their fights grew so intense, that Malcolm had stopped and Logan had been further estranged from his father.

But back then it was because he thought he could dictate what was best for me…

Now it was a different flavor of pie altogether. This was about what was right and what should be done. Logan had never thought of himself as a leader. And as far as his life in this new reality went, he was perfectly content figuring out how Numa worked and crafting useful things.

[The likelihood of you having someone to craft items for might dwindle significantly if you do not play this correctly.]

“Thank you, Jiminy Cricket,” Logan muttered. “I thought you weren’t keen on expressing your opinions?”

[I have had to adjust my social communications matrix at your behest 33 times. My primary function is to assist your thinking process, and my simulations have in this situation deemed it most optimal to provide you with moral views that align with the nobler parts of your psyche.]

Logan stopped. He was almost out of the swamp. He leaned against the trunk of an old tree and sighed. Tumor was right. He needed to do the right thing here, even if it was at his own expense. He would lead if necessary, but hopefully someone more well versed in the subject would take that mantle.

The goons for all their folly are highly capable. Surely there’s a lieutenant there who would be a good leader.

[Bold of you to assume that they would be willing to follow you, instead of your father.]

Logan growled. Tumor was right of course. Ever so passingly, Logan regretted treating his father’s men like a continuation of Malcolm fucking Specter. They were most likely the most valuable people in this reality, and they had no reason to deal with the little shit of a pampered son that Logan had been.

Damn it. Well at least they’ll fight and protect the people who choose to stay. I still gotta tell everyone.

[You have decided, then?]

Logan breathed in the jungle air. Pure and moist. The bark of the tree Logan was leaning against felt alive. This was really a beautiful world. A world where he had finally found himself. A world where he had cut the tight psychological noose that his father had held. Yes, this would be ugly. Yes, it probably wouldn’t work. And yes, it would for better or worse estrange him from Malcolm Specter. Was Logan ready for that?

He searched for an answer inside of him. This was his decision point.

Am I doing this?

Logan Specter nodded to himself. He was ready. He knew what was right, and he wouldn’t compromise.

“We’ll need to craft something first, Tumor.”