Warmth from the sun radiates off the slick, gleaming metal of the outer wall, but the heat is pleasantly offset by a brisk, northern breeze that comes and goes periodically.

The walkway isn't nearly as old as the hatch door itself. Ogridan wasn't always a city. At least, not in the way it is now.

There's a waist-high railing which runs along the outer edge of the balcony. There are flowerbeds in some places next the railing. Some of them contain little, climbing shoots of Bezithra tree, which have yet to bloom this year. To some, they are a controversial plant. But its one thing to admire its beauty. Another to use it for its...recreational properties. They do have some medical uses as well, which some Darovenian doctors are slowly becoming open to.

The view is astounding. Rolling plains extend beyond the limits of the city, visible for leagues from this height. My gaze is drawn to it, even as I keep my attention focused on Zar'hazel, who walks between me and the railing.

I march with my head high, hands clasped behind my back. Reading my posture, Zar'hazel insists I relax, and that we're to forget protocol, and to just walk and talk as two men. With effort, I unclasp my hands, and I try to lean forward a little, like a hunch. I slow my pace to match his. He keeps stopping to sniff and smell flowers.

"You've likely heard the rumors of a special operation in the works." Zar'hazel says.

I nod.

"We've begun recruiting for a special task force, formed of highly skilled Aegis's who will play a key part in the mission." He pauses, giving me a moment to process that. He doesn't need to. I already surmised what my success of the trial would mean. And I think I already know why the High Commander, of all people, might want to have a personal chat with me now. Even though I know nothing about this operation, or what it might entail. "You come highly recommended, Aegis Venther. You're sharp. You're disciplined. To be perfectly honest, I do believe you're something of a prodigy." He smiled then, revealing white, immaculate teeth. Teeth the same color as his close-cropped hair, wavy and buffeted by the wind. "And I've seen a lot in my time. Many an Aegis come and go."

I can feel a 'but' coming. But I don't say anything. I'll speak when he asks me, and I'll tell the truth. Or at least, as much as I feel he's entitled to.

"Months ago," Zar'hazel says, "You were part of a task force in Argest."

It was a mining facility run. The objectives being two-fold.

One: to seize control of the facility, extract what un-defiled crystal we could, and put a wrench in the operation--rendering the mine at least temporarily inoperable, if possible.

Two: to free the Darovenian slaves, and bring them home.

"Now, I've seen the reports," Zar'hazel said. "I've heard the testimony from your comrades who were there. But I want to hear it from you." He pauses again. It's a dramatic effect. He's in no hurry. "What happened, Venther?"

A straightforward question. One that I still find myself trying to answer.

Argest was far from my first mining run. I've led assaults on many facilities. I've freed many slaves from Alveranderan oppression. Not all of them Darovenian. But all of them grateful. Eager for their bonds to be broken. Enslaved Darovenians rejoicing that they can finally return to the homeland.

Until Argest. Argest was different.

Sometimes, I can see it. The memories. When I sleep. Not in the same way I experienced the event, but from outside my own body. Like an observer, watching myself do what I did. It happens over and over again. Like a play being rehearsed.

Sometimes it feels like just that. A dream. But all the reports, all the eyewitness testimonies, are the same. I did what I did. Whether I believe it, whether it makes sense to me, doesn't change the facts.

Only, why lie to myself? It did make sense. It does make sense. It's the sanest thing I could have done.

The miners in Argest, the Darovenians...they had no chains. No bonds. No walls to keep them in. They walked freely in the town. They lived in homes. They traded wares. They married. They had children.

They were free. Perhaps not to leave the town limits themselves, under a contract by the mayor. But they had a semblance of a normal, free life.

And they mined. Every one of them. Every Darovenian citizen of the town. Not because they were forced. That in itself is sin enough. A sin from which any follower of Varcovith must be ritually cleansed by the church. But for money.

For money.

When the assault began, the town militia, and the citizens, came out to fight. This included the Darovenians. They lined up behind barricades. They fired at us, who sought to liberate them. Who wanted to save them. They shot and killed my brothers. They tried to kill me.

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Near the end, miners were clustered together, holed up inside a building. They had thrown away their weapons. They were trying to surrender.

I wanted to let them live. It seemed like the right thing. There is always redemption in the Grey God. I should know that more than anyone. The things I've done. Before my Reforging.

But when I looked at the faces of those men, those Darovenians, I didn't see penitence. I didn't see regret. I saw anger. I saw spite. I saw the faces of murderers, who had killed their own kind. They killed, not in the name of the Grey God, but because they wanted to save this little life that the Alveranderans had allowed them.

These people did not deserve to return to their homeland.

And so I killed them.

Not all of them, in the end. Only a few. But I might have, if my comrades hadn't stopped me.

They had been quick deaths. Executions. One after another. A bullet through the head.

At the time, shortly afterward, as I laid on my back, restrained, my weapons taken from me, it occurred to me that perhaps this event would haunt me.

The truth, one which I can't seem to escape, is that it does. It does haunt me. Not because I feel a great weight of guilt or remorse. But because I feel nothing at all.

When I returned to Ogridan, there was an inquiry. I was brought before a priest and a judge. They sentenced me. I was suspended from duty, and to a month of hard labor.

They told me what I did was a sin. But I'm not convinced it was. The Grey God sleeps. And while he does, we are his hands and feet. We are his servants. We exercise his Will. And in that moment, just before I pulled the trigger, I had been visited by his Will.

Some say they can feel it. Like a physical sensation. Sometimes, I do. The moment I executed those men had been one of those times.

It was like burst of energy. A thrum. A coursing, energizing sensation. In my head.

A confirmation.

I'm forgetting myself, again. Here I am, lost in thought. Not too much time has passed, as we travel along the walkway, but long enough that Zar'hazel looks at me questioningly.

I must tell him something. And I don't want to lie. I will, if it's what Varcovith requires of me. But maybe I don't have to.

"Varcovith spoke to me," I say. "And I obeyed."

Zar'hazel raises an eyebrow. A theatrical gesture. He doesn't seem all that surprised. He brought the issue to light because he wants to address it. "I thought that Varcovith showed mercy to those who accept him."

The contents of Log 202 flash in my memory. "But those that leave or betray him may never return. Daroven is not a haven for traitors."

"You were given an order, by a superior officer, to take those men alive." He looks at me.

"I serve the Grey God above all else," I say. It seems dangerous to be so blatant about it. Not that it isn't what any upstanding priest or soldier would be obliged to say. But I know that I actually mean it. "I followed the order I received from him.

Zar'hazel looks ahead. He doesn't appear to be angry. Only thoughtful. "You are a man of faith, Venther. As any Aegis should be. But you are also a soldier. And soldiers do as they are told. The responsibility falls on those above you."

Debatable. More scripture logs come to mind, but I bite them back. I'm beginning to think that now is not the time. Nor is Zar'hazel the person. Despite his insistence that we should relax and talk as two men, he is the High Commander, after all.

"I have to know that I can trust you," Zar'hazel says. "I understand that you have convictions. But sometimes, when you're in the field, you can't see the bigger picture. Your commanding officer was attempting to use those prisoners as leverage. Your actions made it difficult for her to do so."

They shouldn't have been used as leverage. They should only have been prisoners long enough to be summarily executed for their crimes. But again, I can read the room. He doesn't want my perspective. He wants me to listen. He wants me to do as I'm told. That's the whole point of this conversation. So all I do is nod. And I stare ahead.

"We are on the precipice of what may be one of the most critical moments of our war with the Federation," he goes on.

They need me. That's what this is all about. They need my skills. But they also want me to be a good little boy and do as I'm told. Not that I much blame him for it. His job is to oversee people who do as they're told. He's very good at it. It's what he knows.

"We need you," he says. "But more than that, we need to know that we can rely on you. Can we rely on you, Venther?"

If this is an operation that could turn the tide of the war, I need to be there. It's my responsibility to be there. But that will only happen if I tell Zar'hazel what he wants to hear.

Still, the words I summon feel like bile rising in my throat, and I have to resist the urge to swallow them back. "I've served my time for my disobedience. What happened then won't happen again." Then, more sincerely, "If the stakes are as high as you say they are, you can count on me doing everything I can to see it through. That will include following the orders of my superiors, and trusting that they can see what I cannot."

That seemed to be enough for Zar'hazel. He nodded. "Good, good." His hand claps my back and grips my shoulder tight. "With that out of the way, we can enjoy..." He gestures to the arrangements of flora, and the view past the railing. "This."

"It is something, isn't it?" I'm not sure what else to say. Zar'hazel stands quite close to me. And there's still plenty of walkway left.

"It is. Though I must say, I am more partial to the old view."

I look at him. Curious.

"Before Ogridan was aground," he says. "On this world." His eyes sparkle with memories. "When it drifted among the stars."

He recounts events from several centuries ago as if they occurred last weekend. He remembers all of it.

I can't help but wonder what it will be like to have such a perspective. To watch hundreds of years come and go.

I almost hope I don't live that long. It seems inevitable that I will come to pine for a time long past, in the same way that Zar'hazel does now.

Before we part at the end of the path, he tells me I will contacted for the initial briefing soon, but that I should take some time to relax until then. Do something fun. I promise I will, but I know I'm just going to go home to my quarters, where I will kneel and pray. And wait.