Jerin looked out from his rusted perch far above the lower city. This wasn't the same Jerin who had fought Seraphim recently before, of course, rather another mouse living within the overcity, who would likely have gotten along quite well with the young heroine. The pair were fated to never meet, however, for a lot of different reasons, not the least of which being that it would cause a great deal of confusion, and make it difficult to identify which of the two was speaking at any given time, were they to converse.

He softly hums to herself, somewhat taller and notably thinner than the adventurer, as so many within the overcity were. There were no reliable sources of food up here, and while there were the occasional ladders and ropes which led down to the trading hub below, it was a long trip which the residents made a point of taking as seldom as possible, even if that meant finding themselves significantly underfed when compared to their brethren below. Even if not the most heavyset of rodents, the people of the overcity weren't weak, however, this mouse being no exception. A life of constantly climbing around obstacles, minding your balance and lugging around metal and other debris ensured that a set of strong, ropey muscles existed beneath his tan fur.

Aside from the many colored bandana's and scarves which were tied at assorted places along arms and around neck, a style of fashion which proved to be all the rage up here, all that he wore was a long, off-white skirt, slit up one side for ease of mobility. Mice, of course, lacked the countless generations of civilization and social construction, and with it the steady evolution of things such as proper fashions. As such, gendered clothing wasn't really a thing which existed so far as most of the citizens were concerned. Most mice would simply wear whatever they felt looked good at the time and happened to be available, with some mind (even if not quite enough, using the current mouse as an example) paid to practicality as well. There were, indeed, messages one can put forth based purely off of your style of dress: Intelligence, wealth, confidence, even physical power in the case of certain armors, but masculinity and femininity were not considered to be among them. Beyond a strictly physical sense, such terms had very little meaning within mouse society. There existed one non-trivial caveat to this, of course, which involved the tailoring guilds. While the average mouse may not have seen clothing as gendered of existing for a very specific purpose, the actual creators of such items would militantly disagree. For these dedicated artists, each and every article of clothing had a specific use. There were clothes to eat in, clothes to sleep in, clothes for the old, clothes for the young, clothes for work, clothes for play and even specific outfits designed purely to be changed into when one found themselves bored or otherwise idle. The average mouse had no interest in these intentions, of course, and seeing as how the clothing makers of the city were part of a mysterious and secretive society, they knew enough to simply quietly seethe at all the improperly worn articles of clothing that they had constantly encountered, rather than shouting in anyone's faces. This worked out fairly well for both sides of the equation: The commoners could wear whatever they wished without fear of harassment, and the tailors and seamstress' were still able to maintain their sense of superiority and elitism, a nice fringe benefit for any passionate artist.

Back to Jerin, the male Jerin, the mouse laid back across a rusted metal beam. It was not the sort of thing that most would consider to be particularly comfortable, but a life of sitting on, walking on and essentially living on hard, jagged or otherwise rough materials toughened the body up considerably. He didn't even notice the bits of metal jabbing into his back or legs, as up here you were constantly finding yourself poked by, scraped by or stepping on something sharp to the point that one quickly grew to ignore it. His clothing, as little as there was, offered minimal protection, his entire tan colored frame essentially a single large callous. With physical comfort not a priority, all that remained was to focus on his work.

Acting as a lookout was a pretty easy job, and even if rather uneventful, was not necessarily unsatisfying. He occasionally peered through a long metal tube, which did little to magnify his view, but did help to focus it somewhat, scanning it across the horizon. The world from ground level offered a nice view of grasses and skies, but very little else. From up here, on the other hand, he could see far off wooden areas, the intense blue of the distant river, wide open fields, a vast open natural landscape. That was not all, either. Then there were the buildings, both simple small shrines and far larger rectangular structures which pierced the skies in the distance and the vast network of roads leading to the elaborate metal bridge constructed overtop the water. There were the tiny vehicles moving in an endless stream, which even when they went unseen rarely went unheard, and even the occasional Makers themselves, visibly walking in the distance, engaging in one of their countless incomprehensible daily rituals. The sheer majesty of the spectacle left him wondering, for far from the first time, how the mice below could bear to live with such a small and constrained perspective. At his side sat a bow and a quiver of arrows as well, weapons which, beyond the occasional training and target practice to pass the time, he had yet to have put to any proper use.

It was all very pleasant, as the mouse leaned back further, putting up his feet. Cool wind flowed through the rusted holes of the body of the truck, the sounds of assorted hammering and sawing of materials in the background. These might not sound so pleasant to most, but as was the case with the rough ground underfoot, one grew used to it quickly, to the point of finding themselves missing them when they was gone, finding complete silence incredibly difficult to relax, much less sleep, in. Jerin scanned the horizon once more, not expecting to see anything of real interest, before stopping dead. Even the most unexpected of things happen once in a while, as it turned out.

<3~ <3~ <3~ <3~

"Is this going to be a problem?" Aaron asked as the party traveled through the final stretch of the tunnels, the undead colony increasingly far behind them.. From here it was a simple straight path through the assorted pipes and stone constructions, considerably easier going seeing as how the mice had no fear of attack and were well aware of the denizens which roamed this place. Well, most of them, anyways. In truth, they should have been a little more wary, but despite that, their journey proved to be an uneventful one.

"What do you mean?" His sister asked..

"You know, that dark lord. We didn't exactly finish it off. I don't think it was even really hurt. Is there a chance it might come after us in the future?"

Mathias and Rowan both looked nervously to one another, but Jerin simply closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No way. Not going to happen."

"What exactly are you basing that on?"

"It's simple. You've been defeated in battle before, right?" she asked.

"Once or twice..." her brother grumbled. "What's your point?"

"That's something that happens to heroes, but they always keep coming back and trying again until they either win or they die. Why is that?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Aaron said, sarcastically, "Because they're great and wonderful and never give up in the face of adversity?"

"No." Jerin said before giving the matter some more thought, "Well, yeah, but that's not the real reason. The real reason is because they can't give up. They're fighting for a greater cause than themselves, and just walking away isn't an option. If they do, the bad guy will blow up the world or kill everyone or something like that. They keep fighting because unless they win, all is lost."

"Okay, fine. What's your point?" the larger sibling asked..

"Bad guys don't work like that." She said with a sigh, as though this were all incredibly obvious. "They're in it for power or wealth or ego or... whatever. They're trying to gain something. That means that unless they feel they have more to gain than to lose from doing something, they won't do it." she paused, "Okay, okay, sometimes a villain has some grander purpose and ideal, but the same principle still applies. If their plan isn't going to get them some kind of profit, why bother? They'll come up with a new plan, and if none of those seem like they'll work, they'll just stop trying."

"I don't see how any of that matters." Aaron said, "Dark lords attack our kind all the time."

"Yeah, but that's because they know that they'll win. That Seraphim one, she was already defeated by us, and had an unpleasant experience as a result. Sure, if she fights us again, it might go differently, but why take the chance when there's so little to gain from it? It's like if you try a new kind of food for dinner and it tastes horrible, you're not going to just keep eating it night after night even though there are plenty of other options available, right?"

"I guess that makes some sense." Mathias shrugged.

"That's one of the few nice things about villains. There's a kind of logic to them. Well, usually at least. Sometimes they're working for someone else, or they don't have a choice, or are just really stupid, and will try the same thing over and over, or are so driven by ego that they''re willing to harm themselves in the process. Usually, though? Usually they're pretty quick to give up when things start looking bad."

"The dark lord in question had no comprehension of maps, and there is little reason to believe it even knows the location of the city. Even if that, Seraphim, as it was called, wished to take revenge upon us, I fail to see how it would get such an opportunity." Rowan said.

Jerin sighed. "We don't need to worry about her, but we're still back where we started. We have no idea how to find Midnight, or even who created that map."

"When the prophet you met said that you would find the dark lords lair... did it specifically say Midnight? Is it possible that it meant the dark lord that we just fought?" Aaron asked.

The young girl froze in place, giving the matter some thought. "I-I don't remember. I'm not sure."

"I'm just saying, Midnight hasn't even been seen in quite a long time, and that prophet of yours did say that you would fail to defeat him."

"What are you getting at?" Jerin turned to him, wearing an uncertain expression.

"He's saying that maybe it didn't predict that we'd fight him and lose. He's saying that maybe he was predicting that we would never find and fight him at all?" Mathias chimed in.

"No way." Jerin said, shaking her head.

"It is not impossible. While such creatures may live long lives, they they are not immortal. Similarly, they are often known to accompany Makers, who are known to occasionally travel tremendous distances. The fact that this creature was once near your old village does not mean it that necessarily still lives nearby." Rowan said.

The four went quiet, until Mathias chimed in, once again. "Hey, we should all be happy! Sure, it wasn't Midnight, and it didn't go exactly as we planned, but we defeated a dark lord! That's mostly what you wanted, right? To show that us mice can stand up to them, and we don't need to be afraid? Even if we stopped now, I figure that counts as a huge win!"

Jerin wasn't convinced. "I'm not ready to give up yet. It's true, maybe Midnight isn't within reach anymore, but we can't just assume that's the case. Plus, there's still the thing with that map. Someone wanted us to meet that Seraphim creature, for some reason, and whoever they are, they're still out there."

"Okay," The older sibling sighed, far from shocked that things couldn't be resolved so easily, "Even if that is the case, what do we do now?"

Jerin furrowed her brow, but remained silent.

"Well, First things first, we need to get back to the city. As for the next step, there's no real rush, right? Maybe there's something in great-grandfathers books which will help, or maybe we'll find a new clue." Mathias said.

"There's always the ruins of the old village, too. That was the last place that anyone saw Midnight. It was a long time ago, but maybe there's some sort of hint there of how to find him. If that fails, we can check the nearby shrines, one by one." Jerin said.

"That sounds awfully difficult." Aaron replied.

"Yeah, but Mathias is right. There's no rush. If we can gradually narrow down where Midnight isn't, all that will remain is where he is, right?" she said with a smile.

"A logical assessment." Rowan nodded.

Aaron technically agreed, but he had the distinct feeling that his sister didn't quite understand exactly just how many places out there existed where the dark lord would not be, compared to the one, if that, where it actually was.

The group found themselves relieved to finally return to the sunlight, and all the more so once they finally arrived at the massive gates of the city. All four of them were taken by surprise as the metal doors were pulled open, revealing a large crowd of cheering mice.

"Huh? What's going on?" Jerin asked.

"Is it true? Did you really defeat the dark lord?" Gabriella asked her, standing at her usual post at the gate, acting as a sort of crowd control.

"No, we weren't able to defeat Midnight. It was a completely different dark lord that we defeated." Jerin sighed, dejectedly.

The many mice of the crowd looked to one another, trying to decide whether or not that made a difference. The general unspoken consensus seemed to be that it did not, and so, the cheering resumed. Having no personal experience with the specific creature known as Midnight, so far as they were concerned, one dark lord was as good as another.

"Wait, how did everyone even find out about that?" Aaron asked. Among the crowd, some of the mice pointed to one another, no two pointing to the same individual, with most simply shrugging their shoulders in response to the query. News tended to work a lot like jokes. You just kind of heard them, but nobody ever seemed to be the original source.

The four were assaulted by far too many statements and questions to keep track of, when the round faced lady guard called out in a loud voice. "Okay, everyone make some room! The great heroes have been summoned to the castle to meet with the king!"

"We're really not great heroes." Jerin said shyly, a statement which convinced approximately nobody within the crowd. The crowd did, of course, clear quite a wide path ahead. After all, if these four are able to defeat a dark lord, who knows what they were capable of doing to someone standing in their way?

"Well, this is... unexpected." Rowan said, as the four quietly walked between the walls of wide-eyed mice who studied their every step, speaking to one another in hushed, unintelligible whispers.

"I guess we shouldn't be too surprised. It might not have been the mission we set out to accomplish, but as far as they're concerned, we did the impossible. Can't say I'd react much differently if I were a part of the crowd, hearing this news." Mathias said.

"But it wasn't Midnight. It was a pointless battle." Jerin said in a soft voice, avoiding looking up to the crowds.

"Not as far as they're concerned. I doubt there's a single one of them who hasn't had a friend injured or killed by a dark lord. From their perspective, that one dark lord might as well have been all of them. It's as though we avenged every one ever harmed by those creatures." Aaron said.

"But we didn't! Midnight is still out there! All of them are still out there! We didn't do anything!" Jerin exclaimed.

"Sure we did! We made it so one dark lord out there might think twice about attacking one of our citizens, and made everyone feel a little safer and happier. Even if we didn't get exactly what we wanted, there's a reason these people are cheering for us... for you! You should feel proud." Mathias said, resting a paw on the tattered shoulder of her pink blouse.

"I don't know..."

"Sheesh, you're such a spoiled brat." Aaron said with a sigh. "Can't be happy with what you've got. Here you are, you accomplished the impossible, you are loved by everyone, and best of all, you didn't die horribly, and that's still not enough!"

"I am not!" She stamped a foot into a puddle, glaring at him, more then ready to argue. Instead, when she saw his smile, she found that she couldn't help but return it, her frustration melting away in an instant. "I guess things aren't all bad. We might not be any closer to finding Midnight, but hey, we were in the same position yesterday, and now we've defeated a dark lord! If we did it once, we can do it again!"

Aaron nodded, not entirely sure of that logic, but figured that it was better to just let her enjoy the moment.

The crowd thinned out, returning to their regular activities, but it was hard not to notice the countless eyes watching the four as they continued through the market district. The many merchants took a break from hurling abuse at one another to call to each of the party members by name, hoping to sell them precious artifacts and magical items, which would aid them in their journeys to come. These just happened the very same artifacts and items which they were selling yesterday, back when they were suspiciously non-precious nor magical. It was similarly impossible to not notice that these artifacts had also significantly jumped in price over the past day.

"Oh, Lady Jerin!" A sophisticated feminine voice called to them from a strangely ornate wooden booth. Behind it stood a beautiful woman, of shining silver and black speckled fur, dressed in a spotless white blouse and long blue opened coat, finely embroidered along cuffs and collar. Her eyes were framed by round, metal spectacles which, despite the lack of any sort of lenses, mice believed would somehow improve your vision. "Congratulations! On behalf of the adventurers guild, I'm proud to announce that with your recent victory, you and your friends have earned enough experience points to now qualify for an advanced adventuring class!"

"Experience points?" Aaron asked.

"It's a sort of unofficial tally, where adventurers are granted a sort of accumulating score based on all of their accomplishments." Mathias said.

"How does anyone even about know our accomplishments? Nobody was there!"

"Well, I imagine there's a lot of guess-work involved. Don't question it too much, just go with it."

"Oh wow, look at all of these! I can become a knight, a demon-slayer... ooh, a paladin! I can be a paladin, too! And all for a pretty reasonable price!" Jerin said excitedly, pointing a finger to the crudely drawn diagrams on the wall behind the saleswoman.

"Didn't you already call yourself a paladin when we first met Mathias?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah, but now I can be one for real! Wow, this is great! It says here, I'll be able to heal wounds and repel undead! Too bad I didn't have that power before we went into the Maker's tunnels." She chirped, hopping about, studying each one of the simple etched drawings.

"I thought you liked the undead in the tunnels. Why would you want to repel them?" Mathias asked.

"Oh, yeah, good point. Hmmm..." Jerin looked to the well dressed mouse, who still wore a professional smile. "How does this 'turn undead' ability work? Is it all the time, or something you can activate at will?"

The mouse behind the booth furrowed her brow, looking down to her many notes.. "Hmmm, I'm not entirely certain. Paladins are rather rare, you see."

"Okay, better not get it just in case. Wouldn't want to scare them away.' Jerin said, sounding rather disappointed, especially now that she had learned that it was a rare class. "Hey, can I become a paladin that doesn't have the turn undead power?" Jerin asked, hopefully, after giving the matter some thought.

"Well... not normally, no. Bu,t I suppose we can make an exception just this once." The sales-mouse nodded before adding. "It will cost extra, however."

"Deal!" Jerin said with a grin, dumping a sizable portion of the treasure she had earned from the original shrine onto the wooden desk.

"You know this is just a scam, right?" Aaron said.

"Oh, here we go." she rolled her eyes.

"It's just a title! You can call yourself whatever you want, without paying any money!"

"I'm sorry you to hear that you feel that way, Sir Aaron." the sales-mouse added. "We respect your opinion, and of course wouldn't dream of forcing you into this. If you have no desire to be upgraded to a marauder, that is, of course, entirely your decision."

"Marauder, huh? Well, let's not be too hasty here."

A few signed papers later...

"This is great! I can just feel the power of justice flowing through me!" Jerin beamed.

"You do realize that you can't actually heal people, right?" Her brother replied.

"Oh, and I guess that means you don't have a mighty war-cry that raises the morale of your allies, while weakening enemies, either?" She said, eyes narrowed.

"No, I'm pretty sure I've got that. I can just feel it welling up in my chest, ready to get out!" he replied with a proud smile. He looked about, noticing Mathias still standing at the booth.

"Hey, what's taking so long?" Aaron asked.

"It's a tough decision... hmmm... I'm thinking assassin. That doesn't mean I'll have to assassinate people, does it?" the thief asked.

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it means."

"Huh... how about cut-throat? Or poisoner?" Mathias said, studying the list.

"It sounds like those two have the exact same problem."

"There has to be some thief off-shoot that isn't horribly violent... let's see... brigand... raider... ravager... what the? neck-stabber? How is that a class? And how is that different from cut-throat?" the thief asked, incredulously.

"Increased melee damage, reduced stealth bonus." the saleswoman answered with a polite nod.

"Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense. How about swashbuckler? I'm not sure what that means. it doesn't sound too violent, though."

"Oh, it is. Horribly, horribly so."

"Really? Are you sure?" He asked. She just gave him a sideways glance, as if to ask who do you think you're talking to? As it turned out, adventure, at least in the sense of classic adventurers, often meant little more than indiscriminate slaughter, with a surprising number of the classes and associated abilities simply depicting bloodier and more gruesome methods of obliterating your foes. Sure, there were the occasional non-combat based talents, but these tended to be seen as less desirable and picking them viewed as an amateur mistake. A seasoned adventurer knew that the best, perhaps the only option was the one which allowed them to inflict the maximum amount of damage possible within the shortest period of time. Anything else was simply a waste.

"Um, this could take a little while." Mathias said, sheepishly.

"Aren't you going to upgrade too, Rowan?" Jerin asked the elderly mouse.

"There is no need, I am quite content as a sorcerer, and see no real reason to specialize." he said with a smile, before pausing to look down at his tattered robe. It was already tattered before the battle with the dark lord, of course, as all wizard robes should be, but now it was just a little too ragged for his liking. "If we are to meet royalty, I suppose I had best return to the university for a change of clothing. In the meantime, I can tell my contemporaries about the undead colony living within the tunnels. I suspect that they will be very interested."

"Ooh, ooh, I'll come too!" Jerin said excitedly. Mathias was still going through the list, muttering the assorted rogue class names, each of which, somehow, sounded more violent and horrific than the last. Aaron, meanwhile just gave her a quick nod.

"You two go on ahead. We'll catch up." He said.

---

Rowan, while somewhat healthy for a mouse who looked as though they should have died and been buried long before his current traveling companion was even born, walked at a naturally slow pace, in small deliberate steps. As a result, Jerin had plenty of time to roam about as they were traveling, stopping to look at each and every market, sign, and other trivial landmark. Despite these constant stops, the energetic young mouse never found herself falling behind.

"You are being rather quiet." the elderly mouse said.

"Hmmm? Oh yeah. Was just thinking about something." she said. "It's about that dark lord that we fought earlier."

"Ah, yes. Quite a piece of work, wasn't she?"

"She said that she was some kind of purifier, and considered her work to be important." the young girl said. "It just got me thinking about Midnight, and the attack on our village. I just kind of assumed that it was random violence, but I'm wondering if maybe he did it for the same reason."

"It is quite possible." Rowan nodded. "Although I suspect that the dark lords are very much like ourselves in a way. They all do things for their own reasons."

"So... does that mean maybe he wasn't evil after all?" Jerin said. "That maybe he was doing what he thought was right?"

"Perhaps, but you should not really think of such things in such binary terms as good and evil."

"Is this one of those 'everything is a shade of gray' type arguments?" Jerin asked with a frown. Such nuances always sucked all of the fun out of trying to be a proper hero.

"Similar, but not quite. I know that in your mind, conflict is as simple as good versus evil, right versus wrong. While it is true that there are no shortage of genuinely good and genuinely evil beings out there, things still rarely work out that way. Sometimes good battles evil. Sometimes evil battles evil. Sometimes good fights good."

"If both sides were good, why would they fight one another?"

"The same reason any fights happen, I suppose." Rowan added, "Two sides having incompatible goals, where no reasonable compromise can be met. I can only imagine that this happens between dark lords as well. It is the same reason good and evil often clash: It is not because good people naturally seek to destroy those of differing philosophies, but because each has their own distinct view of how the world should be, and these worlds cannot exist in harmony with one another. Usually these views are also rooted in selfishness, an ideal world designed to benefit themselves, and at varying costs to others."

"I'm fighting to get back at the monster who cut off my tail." Jerin said, looking down at the yarn appendage. "Is that selfish, too?"

"Somewhat, yes."

"Oh..." she said in a disappointed voice.

"Selfish, which not necessarily good, is not the opposite of good either, however. Life is largely based on selfishness. We cannot have without taking, we cannot build without destroying. The desire to improve our lives is what drives us forward, and even benevolence is selfish in it's own way, as it comes from a desire to help others. A noble desire, of course, but in the end, it's still us acting upon our own desires. There are different degrees of it, of course. Look at the Makers: They tear up the earth, and remake it in their own image, which simultaneously gives us access to materials which help our own lives. That is the advantage of living within a society. As our needs, our individual goals grow all the more connected, often the easiest way to help ones self is through helping others."

Jerin nodded, still not entirely following this.

"Then, there are those who take it further. Those willing to harm others for their own benefit. Sometimes it's very minor, taking something before someone else can, and thus depriving them of it for your own sake. Other times worse, like stealing, where you do not simply keep it from others, you actually make their lives worse in order to improve your own. Then there are those, those who we consider truly evil, which value their own prosperity to such an extent that they will cause great suffering and misery even if it will only improve their own lives the tiniest bit in the process."

"Okay. So where does that put me? Errr, I mean, us?" She asked.

The old mouse chuckled and shook his head. "You are asking the wrong questions. If you are looking for me to tell you that you are right and that your enemies are wrong, I am afraid I cannot really do that, even if that is what I personally believe. I am in no way qualified to make such a judgement, and if we were to ask, say, Seraphim, the dark lord that we had faced earlier, I am certain that her opinion would dramatically differ from my own. You, me, all of us, we can only do what we think is right, for whatever reasons. I'm sure there are those who would tell you differently, that there is a strict and objective standard which exists, and perhaps they are right, but even if so, in the end it would hardly matter, nor would it really change anything."

"So, I just do whatever I feel like?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "Well what if I feel like doing something bad? Hurting people and stuff?"

"If you wished to do such things, you would do them. A label such good or evil would not change that. It hardly matters, because I know you would not do such a thing. Forget good and evil, hero and villain. In the end, you are you, and while others can guide you, you must ultimately follow your own path, wherever it may lead."

"Follow a path, huh?" She said, giving the matter some thought, "Don't tell my brother, but that's never been my strong suit. I tend to get lost easily." she smiled.

Rowan smiled back to her, the corners of his mouth rising with a little less effort than they had when he had first encountered the rest of the group, that portion of his face receiving a great deal more exercise in recent days. "I don't know about that. It seems that you have plenty of people who trust your sense of direction well enough to follow you."

"Are you sure they should? You know, trust me to lead them somewhere better?"

"I have absolutely no doubt in my mind." Rowan said, pausing for a moment to rub a paw against his permanently, but not significantly hunched over back.

"Are you alright?" Jerin asked.

"Oh yes, I just need a moment. These past days have involved far more walking than I am accustomed to." the old mouse said.

"Here, let me help..." the girl said, closing her eyes, pressing both of her paws to the middle of his back. "Ohmm... ohmm... ohmm..."

"Hmmm? What are you doing?"

"I'm healing you! The woman at the booth didn't give any specific instructions, but this seems like the sort of thing you would do." she said. "Is it working? Feeling any better?"

Rowan gave a small smile. "Maybe a little."

---

"Hmmm, I could always become a bard." Mathias mused aloud.

"No way in hell." Aaron said.

"I know, I know... hmmmm." the thief said, looking closer at the list, as though doing so would make one of the many unsuitable options suddenly fit.

"Would you hurry it up?"

"Heh. You don't like me very much, do you?" Mathias said, smiling to the larger mouse, who found himself surprised by the question.

"Well, it's not that I don't like you, it's just that..." Aaron said, looking to his feet before coming to a realization, "Oh, wait, never mind, Jerin isn't here, so I can just come out and say it. Yeah, I don't like you."

"Really? Huh... go figure." the thief said.

"What?"

"Oh, it's just that this doesn't happen very often. Usually everyone likes me! To be honest, it's kind of refreshing to meet someone who doesn't." Mathias smiled.

"What, are you actually glad that I don't like you?"

"Not as such. It would be nice if you did, but it's just nice for someone to have a genuine reaction to me. To really feel something. To have someone even care enough to dislike me."

"You're not making any sense at all." Aaron grumbled, shaking his head.

"You see, for the longest time, everyone liked me. Well, not really. They liked me the way that they like a table. You know what I mean?" the thief asked.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I can't imagine how anyone, anywhere, could possibly know what that means.."

"You know, it's something to gather around. Something useful. Something that you even enjoy, and you'd really miss it if it wasn't there. However, if it was gone, and there was another completely different table in its place, you wouldn't really notice. If I'd died, I'm sure people would miss me a bit, probably even feel a little empathy over what happened to me, but it wouldn't really affect them. I was the same way when one of those circle of friends would just stop showing up one day, and I'd later learn that they'd never be showing up, well, ever again. Do you know what it's like to truly care about someone?" Mathias asked.

Aaron found himself a little flustered, looking away. "Well, of course I do."

The thief nodded. "Well, until a few days ago, I didn't. People were just there. Sure, some were more significant than others, like my mom. It hit me hard when she took sick and died, but even then, as awful as it sounds, it felt more like I'd lost out on a part of my own life, rather than losing hers. We never talked much. I never really knew her, didn't appreciate her as much as I should have until she was gone. When she was, I wished I had the chance to go back and really get to know her, understand her. In the end, I wasn't grieving for her, though, rather I was grieving for myself and what I had lost. She wasn't so much a person in her own right, whose loss made the world a worse place, she just represented experiences I'd never get to have. For the longest time, I thought that's what life was. I didn't really know people, and they didn't know me. It wasn't bad, kind of nice in its own way, but I didn't realize at the time just how empty it was."

Aaron blinked, feeling as though he should say something, but lacking even the slightest idea of what.

"Then, I met your sister. It was like my entire life I'd been living some obvious lie, which I somehow didn't realize until right then, and since then, I haven't been able to get her out of my mind."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, everyone knows that you think she's pretty..."

"It's not just that!" Mathias exclaimed, "Wait, everyone knows? Even..."

"No, of course my sister doesn't know." Aaron sighed. "Outside of swinging that sword around, and that dumb book about heroism of hers, she doesn't have a clue about anything."

"Whew, that's a relief. And no, it's not just that she's pretty. I've been around a lot of pretty mouse girls... seriously, a real lot, why this one time..."

The larger mouse glared at him, his less than sunny disposition souring even further.

"Um, I guess that's not important. Anyways, no, a pretty face is something you want to look at, maybe even want to possess. Jerin, though? she's something different. I lie awake at night worrying about her, and no matter how bad things are going around us, whenever I'm around her, I feel at peace. I felt like others around me were just convenient accessories, but with her, I feel like I'm the accessory. The tiny, insignificant little thing floating around something far greater, and you know what? It actually feels good. it makes me feel both small are large at the same time. Like there's nothing I can't do, and nothing I wouldn't do, just to see her smile and look my way."

"Seriously? And all this happened during the what, ten seconds you first met her?" the larger mouse asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Heh, what can I say? I trust my instincts. When I get a feeling about something, I go all in, especially when it's a feeling like that. It seemed downright stupid to not do so, and looking back at that moment, I can't say anything has changed."

Aaron, shuffled a bit, looking very uncomfortable. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Simple. It's because you don't trust me. That's why you don't like me." Mathias chuckled. "I can't blame you. I'm not exactly the most trustworthy guy."

"No, you're not. You're a thief, and your very nature involves looking out for yourself." Aaron glared at him. "I need to know that if things look bad, you're not just going to turn tail and run away. Jerin thinks that she can rely on you, but that doesn't mean much. She'd trust a dark lord with blood dripping from its fangs so long as it had a pleasant enough smile."

"If things look bad? What, do you honestly expect us to get in a situation even worse than the fight with Seraphim? I didn't run away then, did I?" the thief laughed, foreshadowingly. "As for Jerin, you've got to give her a little more credit. Sure, she's young, but it's no coincidence that within just a few days she earned the trust of complete strangers, and returned to a city of people cheering her name."

Aaron grunted. He did have a point. Not only did he stick through the fight, he actually helped to win it, in his own absurd way.

"As for me, you don't need to worry. I'm not going to pretend that I suddenly became a saint when I first saw that sister of yours, but I do know that I'd sooner die than let anything happen to her. That's a funny feeling. Scary in its own way, but also kind of reassuring, too, you know? The idea that there's other stuff in the world worth caring about. It's as though the world suddenly became a much bigger place."

Aaron frowned and turns away. "I still don't like you." he said, even if that was always just a half-truth. Maybe two thirds, at best.

Mathias just smiled in response and nodded his head. "That's okay. I'll win you over eventually. I love a challenge!" he said, turning back to the vendor booth, trying to decide between the several options he'd narrowed down.

"Oh, one more thing. About Jerin. Don't you be getting any inappropriate thoughts about her." Aaron said.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You know... picturing her in your head made up like one of those pin-up girls... that sort of thing." Aaron coughed, pointing a paw to a nearby poster depicting a mouse in a long, frilly dress looking out with sultry eyes. "Uh, you know, not that I ever look at stuff like that."

"Oh yeah, me neither." Mathias said, blushing a little under his fur. Of course, not once had he imagined the lovely hero Jerin all dolled up in a long sleek gown, in a seductive pose looking to him with bedroom eyes. At least not until now. He felt a little bit guilty, but figured it was Aaron's fault for putting the idea into his head in the first place, even if it was arguably his own fault that idea had since refused to leave.

---

The four reunited outside of the university, with most the party now in a change of clothes. Rowan wasn't pleased with his new robe, a bright white, hardly ever worn, and aside from some fraying about the fringes of it, barely tattered at all. There was an important balance magic users sought to maintain: an image of general apathy for social conventions, which ragged clothing offered, but not so ragged as to look impoverished.

Tattered rags were, of course, the traditional outfit to demonstrate financial concerns in the city, favored by beggars, those in debt, and the generally cheap and greedy who although they had enough money never felt like they had quite enough of it, even had they more, they wouldn't spend it, what with being so cheap and all. While being fully naked may have been the true mark of poverty, people just wouldn't take your financial woes seriously unless you had a not-so-nice set of tattered rags to wear. This led to a considerably increased demand for them as the population of the city exploded, which in turn, ironically, made a quality set of severely damaged clothing surprisingly expensive.

As for Mathias, he had made a somewhat more dramatic switch from plain brown garb to full black, complete with hooded cape, and lightly padded armor about chest, thighs, shoulders and forearms. It was difficult to not notice that the thin plates sculpted into the body-piece were designed resemble pronounced chest and abdominal muscles. Not too dramatically, as that would look rather silly, but still clearly there The sort of chest muscles which the former thief had lacked even the faintest hint of.

"Hey, nice clothes! What did you end up going with?" Jerin asked.

"I was considering a bunch of thief options, but none of them felt quite right. I strongly considered ninja, but they're kind of cliche, and I didn't want to have to learn to use a whole new set of weapons. Instead, I went with dark knight."

"Huh. Isn't that a lot different from thief? Are you going to start fighting with a sword?" Jerin asked, hesitantly.

"No, I'm sticking with my bow. I still have my knife, too, which I figure will fit the 'knight' portion." Mathias said. Jerin was, of course, quite relieved. It was a somewhat unspoken rule in adventuring parties that no two members should use the same sort of weapon. This served the purpose of maintaining party balance, to give each person their own strengths and weaknesses, preventing fighting over rare weapon drops, as well as to keep all of the members looking distinct and recognizable. Even if one fails to remember a specific hero's name, you'll always remember the guy with the buster sword, after all.

"I'm still a little confused. What exactly do dark knights do?" Aaron asked.

"Well, they can wear armor. They also have natural resistance to the 'darkness' element, which I figure could be useful against Midnight. Most importantly, though, they brood." the former-thief said. "I always wanted to try that... being the mysterious, troubled figure with a tragic past. Makes sense, really. All my family died at a young age, I'm sort of a rebel who historically worked alone. Oh, also I have these mysterious premonition powers..."

"Are those still a thing? I thought we moved past that." Jerin said.

"Of course they're still a thing! They're really important for defining me as a person! Anyways, the only problem is that since I'm no longer a thief, I won't be able to do back-flips anymore. A shame, I wasn't ever able to put that to use on our journey."

"If you can still use a bow, I'm sure you could do back-flips if you really wanted." Aaron said.

Mathias scoffed in response. "Seriously? A dark-knight acrobat? That's just absurd!"

"Yeah, Aaron, get with the program!" Jerin said, rolling her eyes. Her brother simply sighed. She paused for a moment before speaking once more "Wait, so both you and Rowan got fancy new clothes to wear to the palace?"

"Yeah," Mathias says, looking down at his new outfit. He narrowed his eyes, looking upwards, "At last my attire matches the darkness within my soul."

Aaron sighed, this not being his first encounter with this attitude, even though the journey between the adventurers guild booth and the university was a short one. "You know, you can't just become some sort of dark, brooding hero by talking about how dark you are, right?"

"Huh. Are you sure? It feels like the sort of thing that the dark knights I've met in the past did." Mathias said. He wasn't wrong, either. Historically, the profession was largely based on people making depressing observations, insisting that they don't need anyone and priding themselves as being men or women of few words, despite the fact that they seemed never stopping talking about their own inner demons and the cruelty and injustice of the world. They also usually traveled on their own. In their minds, it was because they were loners and unable to relate to regular people. The reality of the matter was that most mice made a point to avoid them. Nobody wanted to listen to their angsty ramblings for very long. "Anyways, the outfit wasn't cheap either, but I think that it was a good investment."

"But that means me and Aaron are the only ones still in our ratty old clothes!" Jerin shook her head. For a mouse, there were few things seen as worse than being comparable to a rat.

"Uh, yeah, about that..." her brother said, scratching the side of his head. "It was kind of a promotional offer with the class change."

She hadn't noticed his change as well, although it was, in fairness, more subtle than the other two. His old tunic, which even before the past days of combat was in severe need of a least a washing, if not a full on burning, was replaced with a thick grey one, clearly designed to offer a small measure of protection. In addition to this, he also had another wooden plate fastened to his left thigh, matching the general look of the pauldron on his shoulders and gauntlet running along his right arm.

"Well I can't be the only one in old clothes!" Jerin whined. "I'm supposed to be the leader!"

"You just got a new outfit yesterday!" her brother said.

"Yeah, but it got all wrecked since then!" She said, looking down, "Well, the shirt did. The pants actually held up pretty well even though they got hit bit all of those laser things. Still, though, I'm a paladin now! I need to look the part!"

Aaron was about to try to argue when Mathias stopped him. "Let me handle this." he said, before stating to Jerin. "It's important for the main hero to maintain an iconic look. If you change your outfit too much, people won't be able to recognize you."

"Huh, I guess you're right..." She said, carefully thinking about it. This, of course, wasn't just a rule pulled out of thin air, it was a well known heroic principle pulled straight from Mollenoch's Guide to Heroism. While changes to fashion were occasionally justified, especially at key points in the hero's journey, they should be kept few and far between. People need to be able to recognize a hero coming from a great distance away. Unfortunately, this was also a reason many heroes rarely properly washed their clothes, lacking an identical set to switch into. As a result, people could often smell them coming from a similar distance. "Okay, fine, guess I can go with the whole battle worn look for a little while."

"Of course. A mere change of clothing cannot hope to mask our battle wearied hearts." Mathias said, brushing a bit of fur over one eye, looking up at nothing in particular. Jerin didn't seem to notice, which left him more than a little bit disappointed. It would be ridiculous to say that the only reason he had decided to become a dark knight was due to the fact that he thought it would make him look cooler to the leader of the group. It was a valid strategic decision on multiple levels: After dealing with the rapid teleportation and almost impossibly swift movements of the dark lord, Seraphim, he realized that ranged attacks might not offer quite as much of an advantage as they would against lesser foes. No matter how quick he became, he could never hope to rival such a creature, so rather than build on his strengths, shoring up his weaknesses felt the obvious alternative. Even aside from the potential darkness resistance, which could prove incredibly useful, his bolstered defenses and ability to rely more on a melee weapon would prove quite useful for situations where maintaining range was not a feasible option. The fact that he could do this without severely compromising his natural agility also proved to be a pleasant benefit. His desire to impress Jerin was by no means the primary motivator of this decision. That said, it wasn't non-existent as a motivator, either.

As for Aaron, he found himself nostalgic for the recent past when the younger adventurer was simply a thief, and sincerely hoped he would give up on this 'darkness' persona quickly. The fact that it didn't seem to be working on his sister left him hopeful that perhaps it would not last long.

As the four continued towards the far end of the city, they regularly caught the eyes of the townsfolk. It seemed that their exploits had managed to outrun them, and there was no longer a single mouse in the city that wasn't talking about the four.

"Oh, you're Jerin right? Can I get an autograph?" A young boy asked, holding up a small, piece of flat wood along with a platter of ink.

"Huh? Oh, sure." She said, pressing a paw into it, which she then planted on the wooden surface, leaving a clear black print. She hmmmed, looking for a place to wipe the remaining ink from her hand off when Rowan offered the side of his cloak, relieved to have it look a little more suitably worn. It was still not quite as tattered as he would had liked, but it was a start.

"Thank you!" the child exclaimed, already running off to sell it at the market. It sold quickly, of course, in this case to a local counterfeiter who worked hard to make as many copies as possible. These efforts proved far more profitable than his failed attempts to recreate tattered rags (the discerning eye could easily tell the difference between properly aged and filthy rags, and new ones designed to imitate that look) , and by the time the party had reached the palace grounds, nearly half of the mice in the city already had their own not so genuine Jerin autograph.

The massive rusted carapace stopped at this point, essentially acting as a sort of border between the lower and upper classes of the citizenry. While there were a few lone buildings under the huge overhead structure, the vast bulk being smaller conjoined apartments that lined either side of the city streets. Within this wide open space, however, were a wide assortment of individual buildings, all still looking rather uneven, but that was mostly due to a lack of proper materials. Aside from the occasional farmhouse and small field, none of these structures represented any actual businesses, as selling was seen by high society as simply a tiny step above begging. This, of course, created the issue where rich mice had no actual income. One might assume that they were simply living off of fortunes earned by their ancestors, but who would want to be associated with some relative who had to sell petty baubles for a living? As a result, the upper class mice tended have no savings, income or money at all. They still managed to get by without starving, of course. It's amazing what people will give away for free to someone who looks authoritative and respectable enough.

The wall encircled this entire wide plain, going up considerably higher than the fenders of the truck, as it had to, what with there being no actual ceiling here. Despite the heightened walls, Leonard, best known for his straight-man puppet likeness, regularly complained about their security, and such complaints were hardly without merit. Without a natural ceiling to work towards, extending the tops of the wall proved to be very difficult, with the barriers tending to be both flimsy and not going up nearly as high as one would had liked. This was a natural weak point in the potential defense of the city, where a strong creature might not only be able to leap over a particularly short wall, but smash straight through a weaker one. Thankfully, this region wasn't clearly visible. At one side, was a massive Maker built fence, covered in moss, and at the other two, the artificial barriers were lined by reeds and tall grass. The main city gate, which was itself somewhat hidden, still remained by far the most visible barrier, and would thus be the most obvious target for attack. This was why so much effort was put into making the metal doors as strong and heavy as possible.

Standing near the wall was the hand of god, a tall stone spire, atypical of mouse construction. The tallest building of the city, from the peak of which one could see over the highest of the walls, but it made for a poor lookout station due to the issue of it listing severely to one side. This was a problem that many onlookers would insist grew more prominent with each passing month, but those actually responsible for the safety and stability of the city would insist that it was fine. The tower was created with great difficulty, and served very little use beyond being an especially dangerous monument which the local children couldn't seem to resist playing upon.

At the center of this plain sat the sun palace. This wasn't, of course, the actual name of it, it was simply the palace, and since there weren't any other large castles in immediate vicinity to potentially confuse it with, it didn't really need a unique title. It was still often called this due to the fact that from the shaded portion of the city, it looked like a spire of light, absorbing the sunlight which shined down upon it.

There were no shortage of guards standing guard (as their occupation name might imply) as well. Unlike those of the main city, who were far smaller in number despite dealing with significantly more danger and criminal activity, these mice were far more uniform in appearance. From a distance, they all seemed to wear virtually identical heavy plate armor, but as one got a closer look, it was clear that while the general design may have been meant to look similar, the craftsmanship and materials had varied dramatically, their uniforms fastened together in whatever manner worked best to maintain appearances. They were quite successful in this regard, as few would dare to attack the heavily armored soldiers, their appearances being quite intimidating. This was all the better for the guards, seeing as how while the plastic plates may have offered an adequate measure of protection, they were also heavy and terribly uncomfortable, designed for style over function. Part of the reason that so many of the guards spent all day standing in one place was due to the fact that any movement at all would make the plates, most of which lacking properly sanded down edges and not properly tethered together, press uncomfortably against the body. That was also the reason that virtually all of them were armed with long wooden spears: so if there was trouble, they won't need to walk quite as far in order to reach it with their weapons. Similarly, this was also the reason they all looked terribly cranky most of the time.

A similar methodology applied the the palace itself, at least so far as appearances went. From a distance it looked like a work of flawless craftsmanship, ornate and beautiful, but as one grew closer, as was typical with mouse architecture,, it was a similar mishmash of materials. All things considered, however, it was an impressive facsimile, and not a product of laziness by any stretch, rather the mice working with the limited resources that they had available. The castle was the second largest structure of the city, not counting the rusted Maker-built city overhang, and the largest if one didn't include the lower portions of the university, which one could argue were more dug out than properly constructed.

As the four reached the castle gate, the guards standing at each side crossed their spears to block the path, the mouse on the left groaning audibly as he does so, even that faint movement forcing a loose shard of plastic stab in under his arm.

"Uh... I'm Jerin. We were told to come here to meet with the king?"

The guards grunted and feigned ignorance. Even though they didn't move much, they didn't live under a rock (well, technically they did, but there was a nice underground garrison constructed underneath the rock), and are quite aware of the situation, along with the young heroines exploits. They are also, however, guards. Their job was to guard, not to know things, and anything they didn't know couldn't be worth knowing since it doesn't help with guarding. It was a delicate system, carefully formulated to make sure that they needed to do as little actual work as physically possible.

"Oh, yes, come in, come in!" An excited voice said from behind the two armored guards. The rather impressive wooden doors, clearly worthy of protection, pushed open to reveal a squat, wide mouse in a plain brown robe and tin-foil circlet. "Come this way. His majesty..." he sighed. "Lord Soulcrusher is expecting you."

It was rather fortunate that he had spoken first. Due to the circlet, despite how unkingly this mouse had looked, the group may well have otherwise mistaken him for the king.

One might expect a castle to be quite large inside, with dozens of rooms, teeming with servants, soldiers, ministers and countless other bodies, all going about their business, but instead it was surprisingly sparse. Even from the entrance, it was clear that the structure was largely hollow, divided into only a few small chambers, and a single very large one. Even most of the smaller chambers, such as the one the group was lead to, were clearly rarely used. There were, of course, plenty of more functional rooms underground, but they didn't really count. Whether they were storage areas, sleeping quarters or served any other particular purpose, mice didn't tend to include the underground portions as part of their homes, partially due to the fact that while property lines very much existed (even if they could be rather malleable) above ground, beneath the earth, they did not. This proved to be a frequent source of friction when someone would try to expand their own basements just a little bit too far. This was also why mice living above ground level, within the smaller elevated apartments didn't feel particularly deprived, despite having significantly less space than those living below.

"Please wait here. You shall be summoned shortly." the mouse said with a polite smile, closing the door behind them.

The waiting room, as in the room the adventurers were current waiting in, really was quite nice. It was rare to see a mouse room fully furnished, both because furniture was difficult to come by, and most of it came off as both extremely unnecessary and heavy to move. Chairs were considered convenient novelties, but hardly needed for creatures with short legs, and accustomed to running on all fours. More often if a mouse desired a place to sit within their home, they would simply find a rock or gather some mud to shape in a vaguely chair-like shape. Here, several lined the room, each clearly carved from a single large piece of plastic, with a sewn pillow set upon each seat. Along the walls were tall, narrow wooden tables, upon which held lace doilies, upon which held vases, within which held nothing. The result may have been unquestionably nice looking, but so far as the guests were concerned, still felt like it must have required far more work than it was worth.

Jerin was, as usual, the first one in the room, excitedly hopping about, examining every little thing, and putting forth the slightest effort to avoid knocking over or breaking any of the elaborate decorations. The main piece which caught her eyes, however, was the large, full body mirror set upon the far wall.

"Oh, wow! I've never seen one this big!" She said, examining it. The reflection wasn't perfect, somewhat distorted, the glass a bit scuffed with everything within it appearing just a shade darker than it otherwise should have, but it was still very impressive by mouse craftsmanship standards. Looking into it revealed an opposing image of the entire room, as well as three of the four mice standing within it.

Mathias stepped up next to her, looking into it as well. He turned to her, and back to the mirror in confusion. "Uh... how come you don't have a reflection?"

"That's ridiculous! Of course she does!" Aaron growled, walking up as well. His eyes went similarly wide in surprise. His sister was standing right next to her, but the image in the mirror simply showed empty space.

"Fascinating. Were you perhaps bitten by a vampire in the past?" Rowan asked, pressing an aged paw to the murky glass.

"Of course not. Vampires don't exist." The large mouse said, watching closely. He gave the side of the mirror a slight nudge, just in case it was broken, expecting for it to begin to function properly any moment now.

"Oh, that was in the shrine! Not the one with the dark lord, the one I first found that had my sword!" she said. "I'm not exactly sure what happened, I didn't see it. I think she was dragged away by something."

"She? You mean your reflection?" Mathias asked, still very much confused.

"Yeah! I'm sure she's fine though, and will come back if I need her." Jerin nodded, leaning in close, wishing that she could tell whether or not her fur had needed some adjusting.

"That's impossible!" Aaron said.

"Oh, here we go..." she rolled her eyes.

"What?! It is!"

"Okay, fine. It's impossible. You're right! You can't lose your reflection like that, even though, it's completely obvious that I don't have one." she said in a bored voice. "But clearly you know better, and have a much more logical explanation for exactly what happened, right?"

"Ummm..."

"No, no, speak up! I want to hear, since you clearly know better than I do! Please, tell us all your far more reasonable explanation for this, you know, since you know everything, and I'm too dumb to figure it out. Well, what is it?" she smirked.

Aaron just remained quiet. Mathias, however, did speak up. "In his defense, this is pretty strange. Shouldn't you be a little more worried about this?"

Jerin simply shrugged in response. "Nah, I'm sure she can take care of herself. Still, it is kind of inconvenient. How do I look?"

Mathias was about to give a likely regrettable and overly verbose answer when instead Aaron chimed in. "You look fine."

As for Jerin, she simply nodded in response.

The group weren't kept waiting long before the pudgy mouse returned. "Thank you for your patience. Please, come this way." he said with a smile.

"Thanks! I can't wait to finally meet the king!" Jerin chirped excitedly.

The mouse minister, Taro's expression darkened. "Yes, indeed."

"Is there anything that we should know before meeting his royal highness?" Rowan asked, only to receive an apathetic shrug in response.

"We have heard much of your journeys and exploits, even before your unprecedented defeat of the dark lord!" the robed mouse said, eager to change the subject. "In a short time, you have created tales which shall be told for generations to come."

"We have?" Jerin asked, brow furrowed. She didn't realize that they had that many exciting exploits yet. Sure, there had been a few, but it felt as though she and the others spent most of their time just hanging town around and talking. Even most of the more unusual occurrences didn't feel particularly heroic.

"Of course! While most adventurers simply seek glory or riches, you four have truly made a difference and inspired the people. A truly rare thing, and deserving of praise!"

"Huh." she responded, still lost in thought, and not the least bit convinced.

They all arrived at a set of large wooden doors, matching the palace gates. "The king is inside." The minister said, his voice returning to weary annoyance. Aaron was about to ask if they should be given a proper introduction or something, but had no time to do so. The round little man immediately hurried back down the hallway.

The doors were heavy, and a little awkward to pull open, but once they did, they revealed a grand throne-room the with a high ceiling, this chamber clearly making up the bulk of the castle. The wall were lined with tapestries, an elaborate green carpet underfoot, and at the far end of the downright cavernous room, sat a single, massive throne. It appeared to be made entirely of stone, elaborately carved into the twisted and fearsome shapes of gargoyles, demons and all other manner of fiend, glaring down at any who would dare intrude upon its presence. It was large, intimidating, and produced a sense of genuine power and authority. Sadly, the same could not be said about the small white mouse who sat within it, who looked extra small, insignificant and bordering on frightened in comparison, like an infant cradled within the arms of some great and terrible monster.

The four heroes stood side by side, facing the king within his throne. For an agonizing few seconds, nobody said a word.

"Well?" The king finally spoke up, with a forceful tone. "Shouldn't you be bowing or something?"

The four awkwardly looked to one other in confusion, and began to do so.

"No, don't do it now!" He sighed, burying his face in a paw, fingers covered with metal rings, "It will look like you're just doing it because I told you to, not out of genuine respect!"

They all stopped, continuing to look at one another, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry you're highness." Jerin said, nervously. "We've never really been in a situation like this before, and weren't really sure what to do."

"Ah, I see. Blinded by my superior presence, were you?" The king said, doing his best to sound confident, but only making it about three fourths of the way there. "I suppose it is only natural you would be stunned in the presence of a ruler."

"Um... yes." Mathias said, the 'yes' sounding somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Yes, yes, not a sign of disrespect at all, quite the contrary, in fact." King Soulcrusher nodded.

"Yeah, of course!" Jerin said excitedly, before remembering to be respectful. "Um, I mean, yes, indeed, your Majesty."

One would sort of expect that she, as the youngest of the group, would have experienced the most difficulty showing respect for such an authority figure, but it was the other three that all had trouble keeping it together. None would have dreamt of saying anything outright rude, of course. Even though there were strangely few guards in the room to punish them for it, it was simply a matter of principle. Still, it was difficult to force the body language of proper reverence.

The king rose to his feet, still thoroughly dwarfed by the throne. He wore an extra long, red robe which draped partially overtop the arms of the carved stone chair, and offered the same result as said chair: making him look more like a child playing dress-up than properly complimenting him. The crown was of similar design to the throne, although thankfully not absurdly oversized. It was made from twisted dark stone, depicting a series of long, curled claws reaching up towards the heavens. The only other adornments that he wore were jewelry, of varied origins and quality. Like so much else within both the castle and the city as a whole, it was designed based far more on what was available, rather than what would necessarily look or function well.

"As you all know, I am king Deathlocke Soulcrusher." he said, enunciating the name, in an effort to give it more force. "As for you, young Jerin, you and your companions have made quite the name for yourselves."

"Thank you, your highness. We are honored to serve this kingdom, and bring further glory to your name." She said.

"Really?" the king asked, looking for any hint of sarcasm, but pleased to find none. Still, that brief falter of confidence was vary much obvious to anyone who cared to notice it. Jerin did not happen to fall into this category. "Um, yes, yes, and you've all done a fine job of it. Now that you have defeated the dark lord, and in turn raised the spirits of the city, you will all be recognized as true heroes."

Aaron and Mathias looked to one another, not exactly certain of what that entailed, but figuring that it sounded pleasant enough. Rowan stood a little further behind, silent and expressionless.

"I'm afraid our mission isn't finished yet. While it's true we did face and defeat one of the lords of darkness, it was one that we encountered through pure chance." Jerin said, shaking her head. It wasn't exactly random chance that they ran into the white furred beast, but it hardly seemed worth it for her or the others to clarify that detail. "Our real enemy, the dark lord Midnight, is still out there somewhere, and we cannot rest until it is destroyed."

King Soulcrusher looked more than a little confused by this. "But you have already won a great battle. You have earned yourselves fame and the love and the respect of the people. What more could you possibly hope to gain from continuing your fight"

"It's not about gaining anything. That-that thing needs to pay for what it has done! For all the people that it's hurt, for all the fear that it's caused. I can't rest until that's happened." Jerin nodded.

The king watched her closely, his mood darkening slightly, even if he didn't consciously realize it. Defeating two dark lords was, rationally, incomparably greater a risk with virtually no practical reward to be gained from it, yet this girl spoke without hesitation. Is she just a fool, he wondered, or is that what it means to be truly heroic? To act, not to make people respect you, but purely for the greater good? And to think, all of this admiration simply fell into the lap of this, this child who doesn't even want it, and didn't ask for it? He wasn't entirely bitter and jealous. Instead, he didn't really know what to think, or what to feel, just that the mouse before him did not make him feel better about himself. Then again, very little did these days.

"Yes, well... I have heard that you fight with a magical sword, an artifact created by the Makers." He said, after clearing his throat. "Let me see it."

She nodded, removing the long, gleaming blade from her belt, holding it, lengthwise, across both extended palms.

It truly was lovely. His jewels were dull glass (hardly surprising, seeing as how that was exactly what they were made of) in comparison to its luster. He reached out to touch it with a ringed finger, and the girl tensed, just for a moment before relaxing, finding herself tempted to pull back the sword, but resisting that urge. The king looked into the girls large blue eyes, his own fingers curling about the middle of the blade as he lifted it from her furless paws, studying her reaction. She seemed, at worst, slightly torn and hesitant, but offered no resistance, and showed no sign of distrust. The same could not be said for her brother, however, who went largely unnoticed behind her.

"Simply amazing." the king said, turning it about within his hands. "I've never seen craftsmanship like this. Even after fighting, there's not so much as a nick or a scratch on the blade." he studied it closely, the faintest hints of light appearing amplified and dancing across the weapon. He could feel power emanating from it. "I have no doubts that the royal blacksmiths would be eager to get their hands on this. Shaping metal is a new art, but they're growing stronger with it with each passing day. In time, every soldier in the kingdom could hold a blade like this, or at least a reasonable facsimile. With such weapons, along with the ability to fend off the dark lords with them, we could greatly expand our settlements, and ensure lasting peace. A peace that you would be responsible for."

Jerin had her eyes focused on the blade, needing to actively remind herself to breathe while it was out of her grasp. "I'm afraid I can't give it to you. I still need it, and still have an enemy to defeat."

"And once your foe is beaten, and there are no more battles for you to fight?" The king asked, looking up at her.

She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Maybe."

Aaron and Mathias watched closely, suspecting that the ruler had never had any intention of returning it. They relax once the crowned mouse turned the blade in his hands, and held it out to Jerin, handle first.

"Very well." he said with a nod. "But don't forget my offer. You would be compensated for your gift, in more ways than one. When you are ready, it will be greatly appreciated if you hand the needle over to us."

"The what?" Jerin asked.

The white mouse in the throne looked flustered. "Oh, nothing, that's not important." He said, waving a paw dismissively. "Now, off with you all. I have important work to attend to."

The four stood there for a moment, all aside from Jerin extremely skeptical of the importance of the work which needed to be done, and looked to one another, turning back towards the entrance of the throne room.

"Okay, so what do we do now?" Jerin asked them.

"I wouldn't mind taking it easy for a couple of days. We've been doing a lot of fighting and running around lately." Mathias said.

"I suppose I could always return to my study and do some more research. There may be references to this dark lord which I had previously missed." the old man said.

"Could always go see our mom and dad, too. I wouldn't mind getting a closer look at the sort of things that she's been knitting." Aaron said as well..

His sister was mildly disappointed, none of the suggestions sounding particularly exciting or heroic, but she couldn't entirely disagree with them, either. It had been a busy few days.

"Were you just talking about me?" The king asked, making them all turn around.

"Uh, no, we were just trying to figure out what our next step should be." Mathias replied.

"Are you certain?"

The four all nodded in unison. "Alright. Good. That's good. I wish you luck on your journey."

The adventurers all looked to one another once again, and stepped through the doorway, with Jerin stopping at it to turn back to king. "It was an honor to meet you, your highness." she said, giving a clumsy curtsy before rushing out to catch up with her allies.

"You had it right in your hands, and you simply gave it away." an annoyed voice spoke from the shadow of the throne.

"The people see her as a great hero. I can't simply snatch her sword away like some common burglar." the king replied. "Besides, there is still plenty of time. This could very well still work out in our favor."

Samuel stepped out of the shadows, both sides of his face smiling. "Are you sure that you aren't just afraid? Putting it off so that you can deal with it at some future date which, conveniently, never comes?"

"Mind your tongue, and remember who you work for. The time will be right when I say it is, no later and no sooner."

The red garbed mouse held out his palms. He'd since replaced his trousers with an identical pair, which was always a clear sign of wealth. Normally, it was uncommon for a mouse to own more than one outfit. It was virtually unheard of to own a duplicate of a set.

"Of course, I mean no disrespect, your highness. I just need you to remember that this is a situation of some urgency. If you're concerned about your public image, I can always retrieve it myself."

"You've already failed twice. Do you really expect things to go differently now that you're facing four opponents at once? No, now is the time to wait. There's always a small chance they could actually win."

"And if they don't?" Samuel asked.

"All the better." the ruler smiled, his confidence returning. "Then we can retrieve the blade, presumably at its strongest, and obtain for ourselves the sort of power that no would-be hero could even dream of."

---

"What's a 'needle'?" Jerin asked as the group began walking the long path to the outside of the palace.

"I have heard the term before. It is the name of a Maker's artifact, the very blade you hold. I had not recognized it earlier. It is an uncommon term for a obscurely referenced tool, but clearly they are one and the same." Rowan said.

"So, that's an almost entirely unknown name for an almost entirely unknown artifact... which the king just happens to know." Aaron said.

"Well, he is a king, after all. Makes sense that he's read a lot of books, right?" Jerin replied.

"Indeed, but the sort of books one might find such information in are not exactly light reading. Casual explorers do not document such matters, it is reserved almost entirely for practitioners of the dark arts." Rowan added.

"You mean wizards, like you?" the girl turned to him.

"Sorcerers. And, no, not like me at all. Much darker. This needle of yours is not really a weapon. It is a tool, albeit a powerful one. A mighty artifact, used for the design of clothing."

"Huh..." she said, looking down at her blade, the metal length shaking a little within her trembling grasp. "I never dreamed that this sword of mine could possibly be used for such evil.".

"You needn't worry. As with all things, whether it is utilized for noble or destructive purpose depends entirely upon the will of the wielder. The darker the will, however, the more likely it is to seek it for a similarly dark purpose." the old man said.

"Maybe that's why that Smirk-um, I mean Samuel guy was after it?" Jerin mused. Thinking back, that strangely sinister mouse with his elaborate clothing had 'tailor' written all over him.

"I am uncertain of who it is that you speak, but if they are seeking out the blade, that is most likely the reason."

Jerin shrugged her shoulders. "Anyways, I guess it's a little bit suspicious, but the king seemed pretty nice, to me."

Aaron and Mathias looked to one another, clearly not agreeing with her assessment, but not seeing it as worth the effort to argue. Mathias had also found himself further torn by the subject matter. Although he would never reveal this to another soul, in his more rebellious youth, he too had gone through a tailoring phase, albeit a brief one. Young and alone in this world, he was drawn to the mysterious allure of the secretive guild. Like so many of his past professions and experiences, it was short lived, however, and he turned away from them before ever doing so much as making a single stitch. This wasn't necessarily out of fear or an attack of conscience, but rather that he never tended to do anything for very long back then. This flighty attitude offering a broad pool of experiences to draw from over his short life, even if that pool tended to be far more shallow than he would care to admit. As a result of this history, he had a hard time feeling the same contempt for the tailoring guild that most other mice had demonstrated. Sure, they did seem rather strange, but from his brief experience, they didn't come off as particularly malicious nor destructive.

The four stepped out into the daylight, on their way back to the shaded city, when they heard an ungodly high-pitched whine which continued for several seconds, paused for just a moment and resumed.

"What is that?" Jerin asked, wincing, pressing her paws to her large, round ears. That was when they hear the other sound, a loud metallic thud from up ahead.

---

There was hardly a mouse in the city who failed to hear the strange, shrill whistle, but only a few had any idea of what it meant. Many gathered near the marketplace, murmuring to one another anxiously, only recognizing that the sound was coming from the overcity. It was only when they heard the metal grinding, groaning under some terrible exertion, all of their eyes turned to the city gates. Three small holes had appeared on each metal door, shining sunlight into the normally gloomy market, these holes stretching at a downward angle leaving long, open gashes. The sound stopped, the tears no longer growing, and everything remained still for a few seconds. Then, with a single swift motion, both of the gates were ripped away, thrown out onto the grass outside the city, with that very same deep metallic thud Jerin and the others had heard, raising a cloud of thick dust as they landed.

The mouse citizens stood stunned, watching the newly opened path, sunlight streaming in until it was blocked by the massive four-legged figure. Once the dust settled, nobody dared move, looking at the round face and body, covered in scars, matted gray fur, the huge creature looking about with silver, apathetic eyes.

"Hey." the dark lord said in a gruff, bored voice. Not one of the wide eyed mice dared reply.