"The Chosen's enmity is a complication, but it does not change our goals," Arden said. "We were in the middle of leaving the province when we were first apprehended. If anything, our new circumstances have only given us further incentive to do so."

"I'm starting to remember how sensible you can be, Boss Man," Xigbar said. He'd been ready to stay in the Lochmire province and fight when it had just been the Pavers he was up against. But the Pavers and the Chosen hunting him sounded like a great reason to get as far away from both of them as possible.

"Where were you headed?" Kaleb asked.

"None of your business," List said at the same time that Valerie said, "Trandore."

List gave Valerie an annoyed look, as if to say, "Really? Can you not divulge all our plans and movements to a couple of people we barely know?"

Valerie shrugged, the motion conveying a general impression of, "We've already been traveling and fighting with them for a bit. What's the harm in telling them where we're going."

List gave an exasperated noise that could have been interpreted as, "Just because we broke out of prison and dodged a few patrols together doesn't mean we should permanently hitch wagons with a random murderer you met on the street and fucking Xigbar. Are you honestly this naïve with trusting people or do you just like to collect strays."

The entire exchange took only a second, not a single word ever being uttered. Kaleb noticed it, though the nuance of the conversation was lost on him.

"What?" Kaleb asked.

"Look, we're not friends, or party, or a company," List said. "We're former cellmates who happen to be on the lamb together. That's it. If you want to stick together just to watch each other's backs while we all flee the province, fine. But after that, we go our separate ways."

"I guess that's fair," Kaleb said.

Jose cleared his throat. "Leaving the province could prove. . . difficult. With so many rebels running about, the Chosen has tightened security on the borders. There are constant patrols, and every major route has multiple checkpoints. Not to mention if you want to make it all the way to Trandore, you're going to need a lot more supplies than scraps stolen out of a regiment storage shed."

List gave Jose a look that told him to stay out of the conversation, but Arden seemed to take genuine interest in the young man. Arden had been in enough verbal dances to know when he was being lead.

"What would you suggest we do instead?" Arden asked, allowing himself to take Jose's bait.

"Well, as I said, there are certain peoples in this conflict that would be very interested to meet with you, seeing as you are, at least partially, the inspiration for everything they do," Jose said. "I can guarantee little, but I can say they would have a vested interest in keeping you safe."

"And recruiting us to their cause?"

"Oh, almost certainly," Jose said with a smile. "But seeing as the five of you were capable enough to escape the House of Bells—my congratulations on such a feat, by the way—and that you would be immune to the powers that make their operations so difficult, I cannot say I blame them."

"Did you just ignore the part where we all said, repeatedly, that we want to get away from Zaman?" List asked. "Why would we want to join a movement that's actively fighting him?"

"I could ask the same question about why you tried to kill him in the first place," Jose countered, still smiling.

List glared. Jose ignored her, turning his attention back to Arden.

"You, my friends, are very, very famous. And you will only become moreso the more time you spend running around the countryside trying to find a gap in the border to slip through. Someone is going to find you eventually. I did, and I was not even trying very hard. If you're going to be found by someone, wouldn't you rather it be someone who wants to make you their hero, instead of someone who wants you dead?"

"Yeah, making someone a hero is just killing them with extra steps," Xigbar said flatly.

"Gidus did say we were destined to be heroes," Kaleb pointed out.

"Gidus is a blind lunatic," List said. "We're not heroes. We're not going to be heroes. We just need to get out of here, as soon as possible."

A disappointed look fell over Kaleb's face, but as he looked to the others for support, the best he received was an apologetic look from Valerie. Arden, Xigbar, and List were all in agreement. They wanted nothing to do with any of this.

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"Sorry to disappoint," Arden said.

Jose shrugged. "I cannot say I am surprised. I have said many times, only a fool would oppose the Chosen. If you are not fools, nothing can be done."

He withdrew a pocket watch from within his vest, checked it, and returned it with a smile on his face. "I must return to my post if I am to remain employed. Good luck, my friends. May Fortune favor you."

He strode for the barn doors, stopping just at the threshold. "If you do intend to run rather than fight, I would suggest leaving this place sooner rather than later. As I said, it was not hard to find you here."

And with that, he was gone.

----------------------------------------

Though none of them exactly trusted Jose, they did agree that he was right about it being a good idea to leave as soon as possible. They finished "dinner" mostly in silence, packed up what they didn't immediately eat, and did what they could to remove any signs of their presence in the barn.

It was decided that from now on, they'd be avoiding roads and settlements as much as possible, to minimize their chances of encountering the Chosen's forces. That meant this town would be their last chance to scrounge for supplies for some time, so before they left, the group decided to make one last pass through town to get what they could.

Xigbar had some money—stolen from the locals, they were all sure—and they still had the keys to the stables where the local regiment was keeping its supplies. Between those two options, they might be able to collect enough to stand a chance in the wilderness.

Provisions were their main priority, but if they were going to be roughing it, they'd need at least some materials and tools to make a decent camp for five people in late winter. So they agreed on a rendezvous spot outside of town, split up, and got to work.

Valerie and Arden went with Xigbar, mostly to keep an eye on him, which left List with Kaleb. Valerie and Arden played lookout to Xigbar's thief as they broke back into the stables, while Kaleb escorted List through the town's market and stores as she haggled to stretch out every last scale they had.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kaleb asked as they exited another store.

"You just did," List retorted.

Kaleb took her reply as permission to keep talking. "Why are you so against being a hero? I get that Jose's practically a stranger, and all this stuff with the Chosen is messy, but even with Gidus you seemed . . . I don't know. Aggressively opposed to the idea."

"Because there's a difference between flirting with death and giving him a lap dance," List said. "I like a good fight as much as the next hell spawn, but Digax and his armies isn't a fight, it's suicide. Why are you so for it?"

Kaleb fell silent. Not because he didn't have an answer. He did. He was just unconscionably embarrassed by it.

Before he could work up the courage to say anything, a young man's pleas for mercy rang out through the streets. Around them, people's heads began to turn, and concerned murmurs spread among them. Then came the voice of an elite, ringing with a by now familiar authority.

"Everyone, back!" the black armored soldier shouted, and the crowd parted around him in obedience.

Both List and Kaleb knew the smart thing to do was to walk away as quickly as possible. They were wanted, and had no business being anywhere near a Chosen's elite. And yet, without so much as glancing at one another, both of them crept toward the commotion.

Kaleb found himself repeating the same arguments that had led him to Xigbar. If he was an enemy of the Chosen, it was in his best interest to know his enemy as best he could. This was a prime opportunity for observation. And a convenient distraction from his conversation with List.

The hellborn herself didn't have an internal reason for coming closer. At least, not consciously. She was pulled forward on an invisible string made out of a sense deep inside her chest that there was something she had to do.

Distantly, she felt skin begin to burn near the base of her neck, where, unbeknownst to her, one of the names of her tattoo was beginning to glow.

In the center of the open space that had formed in the middle of the street was a young man being held by the arms and dragged by two urks that were unbothered by his frantic struggling. A single elite stood with them, the dragon symbol of the chosen on his breastplate shining.

"All of you, pay attention!" he ordered, instantly fixing the attention of everyone who heard his command on him, whether they wanted to give it or not. "This is what happens to people who steal from the regiment."

The elite reached for a whip on his belt and let it unfurl with a flick of his wrist. Unlike a normal whip, the elite's weapon had tiny blades woven into the end of its length. Still trapped between the two urks, the young man whimpered at the sight of the weapon, and the sunlight that glinted off its embedded steel.

"I didn't steal anything! I didn't paint that symbol! I'm not a rebel, I swear! Please!"

The words made something vaguely familiar about the boy click into place. "Isn't that the stablehand from earlier?"

"Gregory," List said. "Yes."

Kaleb felt a twist in the pit of his stomach. They were the ones who'd stolen from the regiment, and they'd distracted Gregory to do it. If you wanted to be slightly philosophical about it, they were the reason that symbol had been painted on the stables too. In every way Kaleb could think of, this was their fault.

"Should we . . . do something?" Kaleb asked.

He expected a flat refusal from List, but was instead met with silence. The entire time, she'd never taken her eyes off the scene unfolding in front of them, as if she was as compelled to pay attention as the rest of the crowd. For a moment, Kaleb thought List was having the same crisis of conscience as him. But then he tracked her eyes.

They were fixed on the elite, not Gregory. With every passing second, anger built in List's gaze, soon accompanied by scarlet sparks. One name in the sea of them that made up her tattoo glowed bright red, standing out clearly against all the others. Norman Okomoto. Kaleb wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but in that moment, he didn't see someone who felt guilty, or even righteously outraged. Kaleb saw the same girl who had attacked Emir Zaman in broad daylight.

The urks forced Gregory onto his knees. Kaleb debated whether or not to grab List to get her away from here before she lost control. List's fingers twitched. The elite raised the whip.

And then a crossbolt whistled through the air, taking off two of the elite's fingers and knocking the weapon from his hands in a spray of blood.