It had been a long time since Rupert felt as wretched as he did in that moment. All over his body, his flesh felt like a mix of having been rotted through and torn apart at the same time, and it felt like the organs that were no longer a part of his body had somehow reappeared inside him, but all in a tangled mess.
“This is almost worse than that time with the injector rafflesia. Almost.” he thought, shuddering slightly before locking the memory back firmly into the mental section where he stored the parts of adventuring life best not disclosed in polite company. Or any company for that matter.
Rupert snapped out of his dazed ponderings as his aura senses picked up a shuddering, coming from beneath him. The one eye that could snapped open, and the leonid made the painful choice of rolling over to uncover the form of Braid. Most of the bronze-rankers form looked more wretched than Rupert felt, his fine robes and cloth mask hanging in tatters. While most of his face was still covered, Rupert caught a glimpse of pale skin covered in dark runes barely visible due to grime and necrosis.
“Huh, so that’s the color of Braid’s runes.” part of Rupert’s mind idly noted while he started scanning the man’s condition, not having ever seen the man without his cloth mask. From his shuddering aura, he was badly wounded, but alive, his bronze rank meaning that he would surely make a recovery as long as he wasn’t killed almost instantly. Reaching into his dimensional bag, fortunately still intact hidden beneath his armor, Rupert produced a healing pill which he dropped into Braid’s mouth and massaged his throat to help him swallow.
As the bronze-rankers aura started calming somewhat, Rupert took a pill of his own before properly scanning his new, transformed surroundings. The two men sat in a shallow crater, the bottom of which was some kind of mix between rubble and mulch, created by the force and necrotic energies released as the ritual overloaded catastrophically. Apparently, Braid had been successful in his final effort of directing the detonation rather than diffusing it. While the crater stretched for about a hundred meters to each side, and a lot of trees had been toppled and withered in a wider area, it was still well below the early catastrophic estimates. Rupert also noted with some satisfaction that the explosion seemed to have partially decimated their enemy’s nearby war camp as well.
Even while Rupert’s magical senses had been somewhat scrambled by the increasing magical fluctuations at the end, his magical hearing had still been able to hear Braid’s increasing pulse and mumbling. Just as it had reached some kind of peak, Rupert had dashed to his side, thunderous steps throwing the wraith’s off balance even as he appeared to envelop Braid inside his sonic barrier while he also channeled his sonic attack all around them in an effort to push away what forces he could from the detonation. In all honesty, the leonid had not known it would work, but he had known that he had to try and save the bronze-ranker who might just have saved a lot of adventurer lives from their enemy’s parting gift.
The wraiths.
Rupert’s thoughts did a rather abrupt backtracking, scanning his surroundings more thoroughly. They were silver rank, which meant that they just as well might have survived the detonation. He didn’t have to look for long.
Far away, just at the edge of the crater, Frost among Morning Dew sat on a toppled frozen statue while resting her head against another, this one still staying upright even though it was shorn in half. At a closer glance, it became obvious that her attempt at casually lounging was but a thin veneer for exhaustion and injuries of her own, her aura almost completely retracted. But her presence did lift a metaphorical weight off Rupert’s chest, since it meant that she had not fallen to grand elder White.
Bending down to gingerly pick up Braid caused quite a bit of discomfort, but the pill was doing its work of lessening the pain and restoring the strength to his limbs. Crossing the distance to the seated woman did not take overly long, but the footing was a bit rough as Rupert made his way through the mix of rock and decayed plant matter.
“It seems like the adventure society owes you doubly, Frost among Morning Dew.” he called as he approached, indicating the dispatched undead.
“Deputy director.” she greeted. “These two were barely holding together when I arrived and did not challenge my path overly much. The grand elder, on the other hand… That fight was something I hope will reflect positively on me in my contribution to this war.”
“Do not worry, mistress Dew. Have you known the branch director not to honor his agreements? I do believe that many would view your cooperation over the years as quite beneficial.” he said, chuckling in response to her mercenary attitude while gently putting down Braid in what little grass and moss remained beyond the crater.
“True.” she acknowledged, opening her eyes to give him a proper look. “If I may say, deputy director, you have seen better days.”
While Rupert didn’t have a mirror, from what he could see of his tattered armor and patches of decayed skin and fur, he must be quite the sight to behold. “I must apologize for the poor presentation, mistress Dew. Should I assume that the plans for bottles of wine we meant to share in the case of our victory are considered null and void?”
“Oh, I shall deign to forgive you under the circumstances.” she said, closing her eyes again, a slight smile playing over lips painted blue.
“If I may ask, what made you change your mind after all these years? I must admit that I had given up on the prospect of you accepting.”
“Deputy director… Rupert. I assume that you have been able to dig up at least a little of my past?”
“A gentleman shouldn’t pry, mistress Dew, but a deputy director might have to. At times.”
“Then you should probably be able to deduce that my path will eventually take me back south, into events where I will depend on no one but myself and the strength of my path.” As her companion, at least the conscious one, remained silent, she continued. “But a certain young one has also given me some perspective; that some bonds are meant to be forged and may have value even if they are not meant to be forever, if only in the experiences they made possible and the memories which follow. And for those like us, memories are forever.”
“It is indeed fascinating what we may learn from mentoring the young. That is one of the cultural aspects I appreciate in these lands. While many may be fierce and individualistic, you do place great emphasis in directly mentoring those less experienced, often dedicating time, effort and resources beyond what I might have expected from people in other parts of the world. It is a bit of a contradiction, but one I appreciate nonetheless.”
Dew was about to respond when they both tensed slightly, only to relax as they recognized the silver-ranked aura which approached. Force of Raging Torrent landed nearby just a moment later in a burst of grass, gravel and moss, coming out of a mighty leap which had spanned over a hundred meters.
“I’m glad to see you both live.” she said as she approached, brushing off her armor and looking around. “Because from the look of this place, it might have been a near thing.”
“Do you have any words from the rest of the battle?” Rupert asked, straightening best he could.
“They were tenacious, but we sent them running when enough of the summoning circles were brought down. Some were even fighting each other at the end. Vigil and grand elder Sight are leading the pursuit efforts. From what I could gather, we’ve suffered losses, but not catastrophic ones. Still, I’d imagine that casualty reports are always grim reading.
But congratulations, deputy director. I would dare to say that we have won, unless something spectacular remains to surprise us.” she finished, directing a fierce smile towards them both. “From the looks of you both, there are sure to be stories which need to be told.”
As he was feeling hale enough to move about, Rupert gathered up the unconscious Braid once more. “Then we should assist those we can. Mistress Dew, you and I should head back to our fallback positions and start coordinating cleaning up. Master Force, please sweep what you can on the way back and assist in cleaning out the stragglers. We always knew that we could never get them all, but we can at least make sure to lower the risk of a similar force gathering here in the future.”
The two women nodded at him in response, Dew rising from her seat and shattering the icy statues with a casual swing of a conjured mace. Then they were off, back to duty once more.
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“Welcome, branch director LanCaire. Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, city lord Indomitable.” Jarvan said, taking his offered place in a luxurious armchair in the lavishly decorated office. If one could tear their eyes from the rich woods and shimmering silks of the furnishing, Jarvan had to admit that the city lord’s view of the city surpassed his own. The panoramic vista was downright unfairly beautiful, more than a city in a magical backwater should have the right to be, at least according to Jarvan’s worldview before coming here.
“If you’ll excuse my pointing it out, it seems like the line outside is even bigger here than it is outside the administration building back at the campus.” the branch director continued, nodding in thanks to a maid bringing him a cup of chilled sap-wine. Either the city lord shared Jarvan’s love for that particular local beverage, or he had done his research.
“Then you still have my condolences. We do indeed have our work laid plainly in front of us at the moment.” the elven man sighed. Jarvan could clearly see the family resemblance with Will, although families of essence users became a bit weird in that regard as the rejuvenating effects of ranking up meant that lord Indomitable looked more like Will’s older brother when using normal-ranker standard.
But those who spent time around essence-users quickly learned to follow other cues to discern age. It was something in the eyes for most, but also their aura which had a certain depth, allowing the experienced to distinguish a young silver ranker from an older one. And when meeting the city lord for the first time, Jarvan had known that the elf was older than him by at least a few decades.
“Even so, you requested this meeting, lord Indomitable. And from the more discrete setting, I assume that it is not for any public announcements.”
“To begin with, branch director, I’d like a report of the situation in the city after the… unrest. While I assure you that I have thoroughly read what has been sent to me, I would like your personal thoughts on the matter as well.” the city lord responded, neither confirming nor denying Jarvan’s comment.
Jarvan looked at the local ruler in silence for a short while, before smiling pleasantly. “Of course, city lord. As you are hopefully aware, the unrest- or maybe outbreak would be a better word for it- is now under control. Have you been informed of the initial theories of its source?”
“Some kind of implant into normal rankers which caused undue aggression and even quasi-iron rank if left unchecked? And Undeath seems to be involved somehow?”
“It is believed so, yes. The latest report I received from the magic society was that it seems to be some kind of possession, or at least adjacent to it.”
“An uncommon occurrence. Isn’t it usually quite unfeasible to possess someone with a controlled aura?”
“Mostly, yes. You would often have to suppress someone’s aura completely, and even then it is a tricky process to make it last for even a short while. I’ve heard rumors of a gold-ranked kind of specter which is quite feared for that very ability, as even a short lived loss of control can be fatal when the stakes are that high.
But normal rankers don’t enjoy many of those protections, even if the result isn’t very threatening, at least not in terms of power.”
“You said something about an implant?” lord Indomitable asked, backtracking to what Jarvan had mentioned earlier.
“Ah, yes.” Jarvan said, producing a small, runed jar from his dimensional storage space, a small armored gauntlet appearing to hand him the item. Inside the jar was a thin sliver of a black substance which looked like crystallized tar. “We found these in several others after beginning a sweep of the population. This is, in fact, a weak spirit. And when released, it attempts to seize control of parts of the host, mostly lowering inhibitions and increasing aggression while giving a slight boost to their attributes. But the control seems to erode after a day or two, from our estimates.”
“What is the scale then? The whole city?”
“Not even close, city lord, but enough people and spread out just enough to be a nuisance.”
“But you said it was under control?”
“It is.” Jarvan confirmed. “So all in all, it looks like a failed attempt at something bigger. Probably linked to the more substantial, if small scale, threat we dealt with before sending off the expedition.”
This time, it was lord Indomitable’s turn to give Jarvan a silent, regarding stare. “But you suspect there to be more?”
“Yes, city lord. The attempts as a whole have felt too… small. In scale and in quality. This unrest never had the chance to accomplish anything major, at best being a diversion for something else. If so, it was not to distract us from something we know we possess, as all major assets have been checked and accounted for.
Even if we hadn’t discovered where they had stashed the silver-ranked undead, it would need to have been a considerable number released here to truly threaten the city in a meaningful way. You, me, my wife, the magic society director and at least a head priest or priestess of some temples. There were several silver-rankers left even after the expedition had left.”
“Do you mean to say that it was a distraction from something else entirely?”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Jarvan sighed. “Here is where conjecture starts passing into the realm of pure speculation. This phenomena, manipulating people on a wider scale. It does fall into line with the reports we have gotten from the Victorious Sunset sect, now that they are suddenly in a sharing mood. It is not the same medium, but it does get me thinking. How widespread is the influence, these dark paths, that lurked beneath the surface of the fallen sect? Were they an isolated case, or merely the latest in the expansion? Will we find more hidden cells of Pain-worshippers or users of restricted essences if we go scratching the surface elsewhere?”
“You are right, branch director. That does sound like speculation. But also just the kind of question someone needs to be asking. Can I trust that the adventure society is looking further into this?”
“That you may, city lord. I will keep you apprised if anything new comes to light, but I believe that this will be an investigation in the longer term.”
“Believe me when I say that I am a patient man, branch director. I shall return to my… petitioners then, as I believe you have those waiting for you.”
Jarvan grimaced while rising from his chair. “If I have to listen to another entitled merchant complaining about the ‘heavy-handedness of adventurers’ or ‘costly collateral damage’ I might just start throwing them over to your spire to deal with instead.”
“Then I can send you a couple of disgruntled nobles. Over half of the local families are up in arms, questioning the lack of response or that the response was too forceful, all in search of political leverage. It will probably be months, maybe even a year, before I can hope for the quarreling to settle down.” Lord Indomitable did a better job in schooling his expression, even though his words made his sentiment quite clear.
“If there is one universal truth, city lord, it’s that many people together in one place will inevitably disagree. And it will be up to people like you and me to try and clean up the messes that follow.”
Jarvan was almost out the door when he suddenly stopped, looking back. “Oh, one more thing, lord Indomitable?”
“Yes, branch director?”
“Kite flown in on Winds of Fortune. As the branch director of the adventure society, I call dibs.”
As the door closed, Indomitable March of Glaciers gave a sly smile. “Oh, branch director, I do believe you will have to start practicing the noble art of sharing.”
----------------------------------------
Even as the adventurer forces were corralling the last of the prisoners from the hidden sect compound, Walker still felt very ill at ease from what they had discovered there, knowing that all present shared his feelings to some degree.
In the aftermath of the battle, everyone still had a role to fill. As one of the foremost scouts in the gathered force, Walker had been dispatched to try and discover the location of the Unbreakable Chains sect’s hidden compound. Even though the interrogation of prisoners had been slow going, the existence of such a hidden place had at least been confirmed.
When they had finally found it after a few days of canvassing the woodlands to the west, a grand entrance previously hidden by concealing arrays, the doors had stood wide open and the arrays had been left without power. Using flares, they had called for teams to search the compound under the command of grand elder Sight, and had ventured down into the maze of constructed tunnels.
From the level of wear and furnishing, the fallen sect must have hidden there for years, gradually expanding and shielding the underground compound from detection. They found everything from simple dormitories to small estates, complete with lacquered wood buildings inside larger caves. And they also found people, all broken in different ways. Some were subservient thralls, cowering and pliable. Others were broken in even more depraved, vile ways. And from the remains of blood sacrifice and necromantic ritual chambers, many had been broken down to mere components for the dark paths of others.
Walker hoped that as many as possible would have a chance to recover, but he had also seen broken people before during his career, and knew that the way back would not be simple. But as that would be the main concern of the church of the Healer, Walker turned to other matters; the lack of guards, warriors or other more combat-oriented members, as well as other civilians. While he assumed that most of them would have been deployed, there should still be more people left.
And him sweeping the area did provide Walker with an answer, as he found the tracks of several groups traveling in different directions away from the hidden compound. Many were already days old, his substantial tracking capabilities allowing him to discern the time of their departure in great detail.
“Some even left at the time of the final push. How did they get word back so soon?” Walker mused to himself where he crouched next to another set of tracks. He considered setting after them right away, but even with his speed in the forests it would take time to find them. Too much time. And in the end, the numbers weren’t enough to warrant such an initiative. A few dozen people spread out over the various departing groups.
Turning back to the hidden compound, Walker went back to report. It would be up to the higher-ups to decide what to do with this, an arrangement he had always been rather comfortable with. While he had often wondered why the society had given him of all people a third star, being as politically disinterested as they came, he had landed in the theory that it might be the very reason for it.
They knew him as impartial, unaffiliated and unambitious, at least in that sphere of the social strata, and so apparently trusted him to deal with such matters. And while there had been some troublesome contracts over the years, Walker had found that the perks far outweighed the nuisance.
“I wonder if I can earn the third star again at silver?” he wondered to himself, thoughts looking towards the future as he walked the paths of his beloved forests, returning to his task.
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“So, how do you feel? Now that you have gotten the chance to wind down a bit?” Kite asked Serene while looking out over the battle-scarred wilderness. The pair were standing at the top of the adventure society’s base camp, along with others who enjoyed the view of the sun shining down on the ocean of leaves. Some stood in groups or pairs while others were alone, staring forlorn out into the distance.
Thanks to Serene’s aura, the two could speak freely. Kite had checked in on her once in a while during the few days since they had returned from the final war-contract. Even as they had all mostly rested, his thoughts had often gone to the young priestess as she had in the end been the one with the greatest personal stake in this conflict, facing her tormentors in cause if not directly.
Serene sighed, the sound of wind chimes accompanying the bittersweet smile on her face. She took her time to answer, pushing a jade-green strand of hair from her face, obviously collecting her thoughts.
“Kite.. I… I feel a lot. And somehow not much at the same time. Facing the fallen sects, especially those of the path of pain… make me feel proud. Powerful even. It was only that one time, in our defense along with the scout platoon, that I was active beyond my normal role. But the feeling of taking their twisted plans and turning it against them. It felt good. Very good. And it actually makes me a little frightened.”
“How so?”
“In the end, I wanted closure. To see that I could stand up to them and make a difference. Not vengeance or retribution. I thought I had put those thoughts aside long ago, but apparently not.”
“Then I can officially welcome you into the society of discovering unpleasant parts of yourself.” Kite noted wryly, causing Serene to giggle.
“It is good to have company at least.”
“So you feel frightened for feeling pleased by the revenge, and how powerful it made you feel?”
“Yes, that is it.”
“Then what do you want to do with that feeling?”
She sighed again. “That is the hard part. The one I don’t know. I don’t believe it will be too easy to just ignore it.”
“Well, uncle Walker did say that moments such as these might shape how we move forward, what adventurers and people we become. But he didn’t say they were the only moments for such change. Serene, you are kind, empathetic, observant and very dutiful; amazing at ceding the spot in the sunshine to those who need it. And apparently a little vengeful too, at least more than you want to be. But that doesn’t invalidate the rest. And neither does it have to be something to just accept as inevitable. The path towards the heavens is a long one, after all.”
Serene looked at him for a while in silent contemplation, before sidling up and leaning her head against her friend’s shoulder.
“Kite, has someone ever told you that you are earnest to a fault?”
“This again?” he asked, a bit embarrassed.
“And wise too. Aren’t you still nineteen? Whenever did you find the time to gather such emotional wisdom?” she asked, her tone slightly teasing but still kind.
“Twenty as of next month. And in all honesty, I feel like I am mostly just quoting people more wise than me. I often spoke with my aunties about these things. And you know uncle Walker; he will deliver his sage wisdom if you give him the slightest chance. Master Stone and even mistress Dew; both have also said such things. Be it in different words or in passing.”
“There is no shame in heeding the wisdom of others, Kite. But do not sell yourself too short either. You are the vessel through which their thoughts and ideals are carried into the world as actions and words. And the vessel does matter. Even the most perfect song will not convey its meaning through an unworthy songstress.”
“It sounds like you carry plenty of wisdom already as well, Serene.” Kite responded, smiling as they both rose from the crenelated edge of the clifftop. “But we should get back to it. I assume you remain with the healers?”
“Indeed, although it is mostly observation of a few now as we wait for the final transports to leave. How about you? Carrying boxes like Dragonfly?”
“Not this time. Apparently it is-” Kite said, retrieving a paper slip with his current task, “- final inventory of temporary warehouse three.”
“It sounds like stimulating work.” Serene teased with a smile, as they returned down into the tunnels, going their separate ways.
In the days after the battle, most iron-rankers had been pulled from active duty, so as to not risk them as much during the cleanup. After all, most bronze-rankers had a much higher chance of surviving traps left by their foes or groups of stragglers. This left most iron-rankers lending assistance to the functionaries with logistics and, as of yesterday, retrieval and the gathering of supplies in preparation for their departure. Many adventurers, especially those of the sects, had scoffed at such menial labor, some even leaving early as they were not bound to fulfill such tasks. But Kite and his group had stayed, both to do their part and earning a bit of extra contribution while waiting for uncle Walker and Grim to return from their current deployment.
Using his armor’s increased strength had allowed Kite to contribute with some of the heavy lifting, although those with actual strength-enhancing powers still outshone him easily. Dragonfly had become terrifyingly strong since her strength-increasing power had ascended to bronze rank, and the power was common enough among adventurers to quickly have Kite feel more like a hindrance.
Apparently, the stressed out functionary who assigned the tasks had thought so as well, barely meeting Kite’s gaze before handing him a new slip with a task.
“So, I am apparently supposed to take inventory of the warehouse’s content and report back.” he murmured to himself while making his way through the temporary settlement, now quite crowded as people were hard at work, be they other adventurers going about their tasks or enterprising merchants and business owners who were readying for departure.
The warehouse was a simple block of a building, probably stone-shaped into existence on the spot. It was situated on the very outskirts of the camp, and there was much less foot-traffic here where the buildings were less concentrated. From the slight feeling brushing against his aura sense, there might even be other people there to share his task. Kite also had heard rumors that there might even be attempts to entice people settling in the otherwise uninhabited area after it was made sure that the region was indeed safe, using the stone spires and some of the infrastructure left behind as a base.
Sliding the large warehouse door to the side, Kite entered.
“Hello?” he called, receiving no answer.
The interior of the building was as simple as the exterior, being rather murky since the only light came from window slits high up on the walls, motes of dust visible in the stark rays of daylight. Most of the building’s interior was a large, open room with stacks of crates along the walls, although very few remained in the room's center. Against one back wall, simple wooden partitions formed a shallow network which allowed for sorting of certain supplies.
Walking just a bit further into the room, part of Kite’s mind was pondering on where to begin taking stock. But the other was occupied with the feeling of wrongness that sent shivers up his spine. A feeling that was quickly proven right when the door was slid shut behind him and several auras were projected. Four of iron-rank, and one of bronze.
As he immediately activated his perception power, he took in what he assumed to be his ambushers from where they revealed themselves, standing up behind crates. The bronze-ranker even dropped down from the ceiling to land behind Kite, blocking the only door to the warehouse. Had he not been in the way, Kite would probably have attempted to flee, as one of his recently ascended abilities might have assisted him in the escape.
However, the people did not immediately attack him, giving Kite a chance to take stock. The bronze-ranker behind was an unknown human man, leaning confidently against the warehouse door with a smirk, a recording crystal hovering above him, while the rest of them were ones Kite recognized to different degrees.
They all wore the robes of the Descending Star sect, with Resplendent Evening Mist being the only one there who Kite knew by name. The rest he recognized as the disciple’s followers, all of the initiate rank.
“We meet again, outcast trash.” Disciple Mist said, the dark-haired elf looking quite smug as he stopped a few meters away from Kite as the rest.
“Disciple Mist.” Kite replied, voice flat. “I would have assumed our business would be considered concluded. The result of the clash was not in doubt.”
“You see this, my friends. The outcast remains as arrogant as ever. Did you really think that just defeating me through cheap tricks would leave you walking away? That such a stain on my honor would not go unanswered.”
“I see you still confuse honor with pride, disciple.”
“And I see that you still do not realize your situation, trash.” disciple Mist replied, voice tensing slightly even though he still tried to keep it nonchalant. “As you can see, there are others who agree that this cannot be allowed to stand. Initiate Sparrow here was most disappointed that your arrogance cost her the awakening stone that was meant to be hers. And inner disciple Soar was kind enough to come and oversee us righting this wrong.” he finished, indicating the bronze-ranker at the door.
“From what I gather, you are not here to just demand the stones back.” Kite stated matter of factly. “You are here to strike at me, four against one, and still walk away deluding yourself that what you did was honorable? That your brittle pride is reason enough to justify anything?”
“Oh, but you mistake our intentions. One cannot hold it above you to not understand the reasoning of your betters.” disciple Mist said condescendingly. “We are here to teach you a lesson, a lesson you would do well to simply accept. Then we will be on our way, and leave you and your pitiful existence behind us. But should you be a less than wise student and struggle, then I cannot guarantee that an accident will not occur. And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Both for you and the Victorious Sunset sect. As rumors tell it, your demise might cast aspersions on them.”
“None of what you have said so far contradicts my statement. As I said the last time we met, disciple, your words are but wind, to distract you from your own frail conviction.”
Inside, Kite felt the remnants of the fury from his earlier encounter with the disciple once more being unearthed. But this time it was different. It didn’t smolder like the fire, or give off the icy chill. It was something hard, something that the weeks of fighting other people had started tempering. The mindset that had gradually started forming over this expedition, to help cope with the horrors of battle.
But another difference from last time was that it felt more like partially unsheathing a blade rather than exploding from within. And Kite realized, to his relief, that it was something he would be able to put away again when it was no longer needed. “It seems that I too am capable of affecting what person I strive to be.” he thought, before continuing to speak.
“Then, before we begin, know this. I do not wish for this fight. While I do not regret defeating you, disciple Mist, I do regret the circumstances. Letting you affect me so is beneath who I aspire to be. Should you accept them, I will return the prize I rightfully won and be done with this affair. Know that if you attack me now, I will defend myself. In cornering me with such numbers, I will not hold back. Know that you risk your lives in doing this.”
Disciple Mist scoffed. “Look at you, trash. Still arrogant to a fault, even threatening students of the Descending Star sect while bargaining for your life. Initiates, let us teach him the lesson he deludes himself that he stands above. Don’t go begging for mercy, outcast, as it is you who are courting death!”