The closing ceremony for the Grand Hunt took place in the same broad courtyard where it had all begun with the orientation a few months prior. The crowd was much smaller this time, with many adventurers having already departed the city for their next great adventures or simply skipping the ceremony out of disinterest. Some absences weren't by choice, however, as shown by the large wall of a building on the edge of the courtyard decorated with wreathes of flowers, hand drawn portraits, swords and daggers stabbed into the brickwork, and in some cases simply a scrap of bloody cloth or a name scribbled on the brick. Each contribution to the wall was a party or companion's way of commemorating someone they had lost in the hunt. During his opening speech, the Mayor General paused to lead a moment of silence to reflect on those losses. Most eyes were on the ground throughout the somber moment, but Iris found herself glancing at her party members with overwhelming appreciation that they had all made it through.

As the Mayor General moved on to continue his speech, Iris occupied her thoughts by scanning the faces in the crowd. Most of them looked vaguely familiar, at this point, but there were a few that stood out more memorably than others. She spotted the tall metal man with wonderful hair and the angry goblin that called him son, they were impossible to miss with the sun gleaming off the man while the goblin -- Grell, she was pretty sure his name had been Grell -- was engaged in a rapidly escalating shoving match with another audience member. There was also Whirl and Galt, members of Cameron Cole's party who stood with him nearby. Kieren the mage was present, but he had walked right by the party as if he didn't know them -- and Iris didn't blame him. She kept an eye out for the Fish Wizard as she searched the crowd, but thankfully he was nowhere to be found.

"And for excellent leadership in a time of crisis," the Mayor General was reading from a long list on a scroll he held outstretched, "the Dreamweaver would like to thank Cameron Cole."

As with every commendation the mayor had read, scattered applause echoed throughout the audience.

The mayor listed a few more names, and then said, "now, this is usually the part where I'd bring out on stage each of the adventurers who landed killing blows on our primary targets. This year, however, there aren't any of those. I've already conveyed Captain Clement's commendations for those he credits with the capture of the hydra, but in the case of the Matriarch spider and the desert wyvern, considering the unusual events that have transpired, I'm afraid we have no one to thank. I'd like to call our titans on stage instead, but they, uh, were each unable to attend today's ceremony.” He cleared his throat with a rough cough, “instead, I'd like to welcome a representative of the demi--" his eyes flickered nervously to somewhere off stage, "a representative of the God of Masquerades, Morose, to speak on these events."

Quiet murmurings worked their way through the crowd, tapering off into a hush as more and more people noticed the agent of Morose had already appeared on stage. He wore nondescript black robes and a shining brass mask with a permanent frown and a tear drop under each eye, through the holes in the mask only a black void was visible. He spoke in a calm, monotonous voice that came from all around.

"Public appearances are unusual for the agents of Morose," the figure said, "however, my god deems it appropriate to give you all this message. They invite you to share this message in your travels, with any and all you might meet."

Hushed whispers traveled through the crowd.

"There exists a prophecy known as the Millennium Mandate, written almost one thousand years ago, at the beginning of this age. The text of that prophecy has been lost to time, but one fragment remains. It reads that on the last day of the 1000th year of this age, the sky will shatter, and a God Above All will be crowned."

The full attention of the crowd had been captured, and all eyes were on the agent as he spoke.

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"My god says this: cast away your faith in man, your allegiance to guilds, and your loyalty to kings--"

"Okay!" the Mayor General interrupted, "that's a fine speech, thank y--"

The mayor choked on his words as the masked man drove a dagger into his heart. He released his grip on the knife and the mayor stumbled back with the dagger still protruding from his chest. The agent continued speaking as the crowd gasped and shouted.

"for in three year's time, there will be only one authority--"

The mayor ripped the knife from his chest and lunged towards the agent, but three more masked figures appeared and dragged him back, each driving more daggers in and out of his chest.

"Morose will rise above all and win the crown of gods, and the world will submit to their rightful god."

The mayor dropped to his knees with blood gurgling in his mouth before a final blade slid across his throat. The figures disappeared, and the crowd erupted into chaos.

"We have to go!" Eli shouted, "back to the ship, now!"

___

"That's a new look," Commander Bridge said to the Dreamweaver, admiring her flowing purple dress.

"My new disciple quite likes purple," the Dreamweaver said swirling her drink before taking a sip, "she says it's my color."

They were in the Dreamweaver's lavish tent, tucked away in the depths of the Matriarch's former domain in the dark woods, where it was unlikely anyone would stumble across it.

"How did your other new look turn out?" the Commander asked.

The Dreamweaver giggled gleefully, "phenomenal. When I say you haven't felt real power until you consume a soul for yourself -- ugh, I wish I could experience it all over again. And the body is exquisite, I'd spend all day in it if I wasn't afraid of getting stuck that way like Clement."

"Eh," the Commander waved away her concerns, "don't listen to him. He can still turn back, he just doesn't want to."

The Dreamweaver downed the rest of her drink before pouring another, "the coup should be starting soon, you sure you don't want to do anything about that? Your emperor won't be pleased."

"Fuck the emperor," the Commander sighed, "fuck the whole bloody empire. I'm thinking it's about time I go my own way again."

"Oh?" Going off to chase down another shot at your transformation? It's a pity what happened to your wyvern."

The Commander took her place at the minibar as she stepped aside, refilling his own drink as he spoke, "I'm over it. I was settling, anyway. Scales aren't really my style."

"I hear there's a storm bird in the Northeast, that seems like you."

The Commander propped himself up on the minibar with one arm as he sipped his drink, "a storm bird, huh? I do like the sound of that."

"Or there's the phoenix in the Smoldering Rift--"

"Now it just sounds like you're trying to get me killed."

The Dreamweaver laughed, "friends only get harder and harder to come by at our age, I can't go around killing the few that I have left."

The Commander stared at his drink as he absent-mindedly swirled it around the glass.

"What's bothering you?" the Dreamweaver asked.

"Stan deserves better," he didn't look up from his glass, "I should have warned him."

"The mayor? That guy's a clown, no one's going to miss him."

"Still-- Angela, we practically grew up in Giantrock. Are we really going to let Morose just take it?"

"Don't look at me," she half-heartedly through her hands up in a defensive gesture while still daintily holding her glass, "not getting involved was your idea. Besides, what are we going to do, anyway? You said it yourself, Morose has more agents in that city than there are rats in the Underbelly. Sure, we can take a titan or two, but what if there's three? Four? They knew we'd be here, I doubt they came unprepared to deal with us."

The Commander sighed and placed his drink down on the bar, "maybe I could have convinced Clement to fight with us. The three of us could have handled it."

"You'd have had better luck convincing him to skip dinner," the Dreamweaver rolled her eyes, "look, I have a loose end to tie up with my disciple, then I'm getting out of here. I'll be following the forests eastward, through the mountains where that storm bird nests, and probably heading north from there. I'm leaving all this behind me, the Grand Hunt, the Frontier, I've had enough of it all. This place was never much of a home to me as a kid, and that's so long ago now that I barely even remember it anyway -- how about you come with me? We'd be a lot safer together than alone."

The Commander laughed, "think your liquor cabinet can handle the both of us?"

"Hmm," the Dreamweaver stared at the minibar as she wondered, "maybe I should have restocked before the coup."