"There is no ‘wrong side’ if you’re lying down. The river flows, and so do excuses."— The Tao of Idleness, Book 5, Verse 3.

I looked around, seeing everything with new eyes. Just in case the visual hasn’t been clear thus far, this place isn’t exactly the sort of picturesque village you see popping up in fairy tales. It’s far more like that scene in a horror movie where the protagonists get lost in the woods, and then the local inbreds turn them into supper. The houses of the village clung sadly to the edge of the woods, and it now struck me that they were doing so in order to hide, which - now I thought about it - probably was fair enough. Especially from Lia.

Or from me.

Fuck.

How have I ended up on the side of the Empire, here? This is just like when I got suckered in by a pair of big, dark eyes, a posh voice and a nice pearl necklace. Ended up fucking a Tory for a month, didn’t I? Took me weeks to scrub the self-loathing clear. I woke up yesterday morning with the most pressing worry on my mind about where my next slice of pizza would be coming from. And now? Life – well, death – comes at you fast.

Mind you, if these guys are supposed to be some sort of Rebel Alliance, they really weren’t doing all that much rebelling. Considering there must have been at least a hundred of them skulking about, you might have thought they could have organised themselves into something a bit more punchy. No one’s suggesting I’m the poster child for active intervention here, but surely there has to be someone amongst them who fancies their chances on 100-2 odds. All this shuffling about with sad expressions on their faces and hiding in dark, crooked buildings, sagging under their own weight . . . well, Leia’s gold bikini would hang its head in shame.

Feeling uncharacteristically aggrieved, I fired a somewhat self-righteous glance at Lia, who was keeping a measured pace ahead of me. Head back, chin thrust out. If she was bothered by the atmosphere of blind panic she was inspiring, she certainly wasn’t letting it show. Shit. Was there a chance I was crushing on Vader here? No, hang on. That wasn’t quite right, was it? Because there’s only one of us in our little power couple rocking the dark leather look and hiding their face. And it’s not the big-breasted pocket rocket with the giant sword.

Fuck this ‘Rogue of Eldhaven’ schtick. And fuck The Great Slacker for dropping me in the middle of all whatever this shit is without checking I was okay with it. Passive acceptance is not consent, dude! Look, I wasn’t ever going to be aiming for sainthood – not least because it looked like far too much work - but being the guy everyone looked at like they might choke them out at any moment? Nope. Not for me. No, thank you.

“Tell me again why we are here. And can you ensure the words ‘casual genocide’ are not so much as hinted at, please?”

Lia kept walking along the mud-slick path. “Do you always whine this much? I said that you’ll find out soon enough. I have no more information to offer at this time.”

Nah, I’m not having that. I think been quite understanding thus far – all things considered – but that non-answer wasn’t going to cut it. “Look, boss,” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible, “judging by the way people are looking at us, they’re expecting a war crime any second.”

Lia stopped. She still didn’t turn, just froze for a moment, staring straight ahead like she was measuring her next words carefully. “Of course they are. You’re the Rogue of Eldhaven. That’s all they need to know.”

“A title I got yesterday afternoon doesn’t mean shit!” I shot back. “You didn’t get me out of bed this morning just to intimidate a bunch of yokels. Nor do I think you’ve brought me along for the pleasure of my company, so why don’t you tell me what we are doing here and stop pissing about?”

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“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. Your title does mean something. Specifically, it means you’re the only one of us who can accept this particular quest.”

“A quest to do what?”

“To kill someone,” she said, her voice flat. No emotion. No hesitation.

The words hung between us like a massive turd curling into every corner of my brain. “Wait... what?”

“Somewhere in this village is an alchemist,” Lia continued, her tone casual like we were discussing the weather. “He’s been supplying Eldhaven’s enemies. Poisons, weapons, seriously nasty shit that could shift the balance of power in the war. The Elders want him gone, and available information suggests he is in this village. And our contact will only supply the necessary quest to kill him to someone with a title.”

Suddenly, the Elder’s generosity felt a little less altruistic. “I’m here to be an assassin?”

“Well, you do keep telling people you are a Rogue,” she said as if that explained everything.

“I’m not an assassin, Lia. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

She shrugged. “And you won’t have to now. All you have to do is accept the quest. I’ll handle the rest. It certainly won’t be my first time.”

Her words hit me like a slap as I realised I wasn’t playing dress-up anymore. From the moment she’d dragged me out of bed, she’d intended to put me into a role I didn’t want, in a storyline I didn’t understand. But that wasn’t the worst of it, was it? No, not at all. Somehow, my sweet, innocent Freeloader arse was being turned into something else. A weapon. No, it was even worse than that. I wasn’t a weapon, I was the guy who opened the door for the girl holding the weapon.

Fuck being that guy.

I looked around this sad little village again, at the crumbling homes and the terrified people doing everything to avoid eye contact with us. And why wouldn’t they? I was the walking, talking embodiment of oppression. Fuck, I’d turned into my dad.

“How did I get myself into this?”

Lia’s gaze softened. “You didn’t. I did.”

That admission caught me off guard. I’d not seen that side of her before; she’d always been this cool, collected warrior, always in control. Even with a Minotaur looming over her. But now, there was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before—a flicker of doubt. Regret, maybe?

“The Elders gave me the contract,” she said quietly. “But the location of the alchemist can only be revealed to someone with a title. And there you were, the Rogue of Eldhaven. I am so sorry, James.”

Was that the first time she’d actually used my name? I wasn’t sure, but it’d be a really cool character development beat if it was, so let’s pretend. Sure, it would be great if the setting for this moment had appropriate music, candles and far fewer terrified bystanders, but I’ll take it. It’s not like I have that much good other news to be going with.

“And if I say no?” And even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. The pretty lady would be getting her quest. Of course, she would. Still, playing a little hard to get never hurts.

Lia swallowed, and her jaw tightened. “Then I go in alone, and I probably don’t come back.”

I stared at her, trying to read the emotions behind her frozen face. But she wasn’t giving anything away. Not really. There had to be more to this than her father’s debt, bigger than a contract to off an alchemist. There was definitely more at stake here than she was letting on. And somehow, I’d ended up right in the middle of it. Go me.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll play along. But don’t expect me to do the dirty work.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

We started walking again, the path growing narrower as we neared the centre of the village. The houses here were more tightly packed in, the red wolf head banners seemed to multiply, hanging from every corner of the houses we passed, watching with their unblinking eyes.

Idle XP Gains: +15 XP from tension.

Clutching a bit there, Oh Great Slacker. Must try harder.

We finally came to a stop outside a large building, bigger than the others but still thoroughly weathered by the elements. It looked like it had once been some sort of meeting house, though it was hard to tell that now. The windows were boarded up, and the door hung slightly ajar, creaking in the wind.

“This is it,” Lia said.

“What, no grand welcome? What is it with this place and its complete rejection of trumpets and general pageantry?”

“Get your game face on, Rogue. It’s time for you to meet the enemy.” With that, she pushed the door open, and I followed her inside.