Evenings within the small village tended to be very quiet. That night was an exception. With little else to do, the small child laid in bed, as usual, hearing everything but pretending to not. Not that there was anyone in their immediate vicinity to pretend it to. Still, she spent a lot of time pretending, both for her sake and for others, as did everyone else around her. They would pretend that everything was alright, as would she, even though both involved parties knew full well that it was a lie, but what other options were there? No, instead both she and they would force themselves to wear big smiles, because if they didn't, they'd make the other party sad, which would in turn make themselves sad, leading to an endless cycle of misery bounding back and forth between the participants, growing in strength with each and every pass.

"You can't be serious!" the angry voice of her father called from the distance. She couldn't but tense, even though it was clear that he wasn't speaking to her, rather to the other adults around him. Even without her heavily trained eavesdropping talents, it would have been difficult for her not to hear.

"I wish I weren't." Another voice replied. The village elder, although in truth he was no older than the girl's father or many of the other mice in the village. He simply inherited the role when his grandfather had passed, and the title along with it. "Our food stores aren't enough to support everyone. We haven't the luxury of feeding mice who cannot aid in supporting the village."

This was another matter, one of many, which grownups wouldn't speak to her of, but she was very much able to pick up on. Life among the Makers was filled with both risks and rewards, and at times, food was abundant. Once the weather began to turn cold, however, so did the prospects for our kind. Once the snow began to fall, the streets became increasingly barren, and sources of food grew more difficult to come by. In the months leading up to the cold season, naturally, great care was taken to scrounge and store up as much as they possibly could, and people had, indeed, worked very hard and come up with a sizable amount. Just not quite enough to sustain the ever growing population. The other mice, her living parent included, made a point to never talk about the future to her. Not deliberately, anyways. Occasionally, they would slip up, but catch themselves shortly after, growing visibly sad as a result, despite their best efforts to conceal it. Talking about the future was for people who had one, after all.

"So, what, you plan to just throw her out on the street?" the father snarled. It was easy for the child to tell that they are talking about her. Who else could they possibly be talking about? Even putting aside the obvious clues, she just was about the only subject of conversation that could hope to inspire such anger from him. "She can't even walk! How is she supposed to survive on her own?"

This was also no secret, even if it hurt to hear. This small bed had been her home, almost her entire world for as long as she could remember. Occasionally she could manage to sit up atop it, but even that quickly drained her very finite stamina, and resulted in a coughing fit intense enough to cause her to struggle for breath.

"You know full well that this wasn't an easy decision. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good of the community. Sadly, she won't the the last among them, before this winter comes to an end." The other voice replied, a hint of anger likewise appearing in their voice.

"Oh, so it's a noble sacrifice, is it? Then I guess you'll be volunteering to leave, too? You know, for the greater good of the community?" The father asked. "How about you? Or you?" He looked about the crowd of mice, none of which dared to meet his gaze, acting as though they had nothing at all to do with the situation, despite not a single one of them speaking up in his defense. "I thought so. None of you have a right to talk about sacrifices, since none of you are willing to make them. You're only fine with the idea since it's other people who will have to sacrifice and lose."

There were no voices of disagreement. Not to imply that there wasn't any agreement, either, everyone about instead simply pretending not to hear.

"Fine." The male mouse spat. "If that's the way it is, I'm leaving."

"That isn't necessary. You've always been a skilled scavenger, and a boon to our community. I know how you must feel, I really do, but there's no sense in going out on your own purely for the sake of a child who will surely-"

"Don't." The girls father glared at the elder. "Don't even finish that sentence."

Once he had left the meeting, he spent a good deal of time standing outside of his daughters room. Well, it was his room as well, of course, but it only seemed fair to consider her to be the owner of it, given how much time she spent there, and how little else that she had in this world. It wasn't easy, but he put on a smile, as he had a hundred times before (it was never easy), took a deep breath and stepped inside, crouching down by her bedside. She, of course, similarly played her part by pretending to have no idea that she knew what he was preparing for.

The large mouse reached up and took the girls frail, nearly furless arm in his comparatively huge hand. The flesh was darkened and gnarled, fingers curled up into rigid claws and only capable of the most basic of twitches. She looked up at him and smiled. Not an entirely fake one, either, as it never was. No matter how painful or frightening things could be, she always did enjoy seeing his face. The pair simply looked to one another for quite some time, the parent struggling to come up with the proper words to say, the child waiting, having had a lifetime to develop her abundant patience.

"We're going to take a little trip outside." He finally, simply said, smiling to her.

"Okay, daddy." She wheezed back to him, smiling right back.

And so the pair left their home, never to return. The older mouse carried the younger upon his back, bundling some heavy blankets about both her and himself. Even those he was most likely expected to leave behind, but none dared to complain or even acknowledge the 'theft' as he passed by them. None of them had offered any additional supplies for the road, either, or even said goodbye. What could they say, after all? As the pair left, the village was as silent as a crypt, each and every citizen making a point to keep themselves occupied and avoid thinking about the deed they had just partaken in, each and every one worried they could be the next to be cast out.

The outside world was far from silent, however. The wind howled bitterly. It was the first snowfall of the season, having come much earlier than most winters, but it made a point to leave a significant impression. It covered the ground in white, contrasting with the dark night around them, the falling flakes barely visible in the dark, and nearly blocking out the nearby street lamps as they steadily blew past the streams of light.

Both mice immediately felt the miserable cold, but both knew better than to complain. It wouldn't help, after all. They had to move. As for where to go, their options were both limited in specifics, yet wide open in general. No specific destinations offered any easy prospects. The other villages were surely having similar problems staying alive through the cold, and even one of them did, somehow, possess an abundance of resources, they were spaced far enough apart that reaching them in even the best of weather involved quite a trek, but under these conditions, represented a near impossibility. With nowhere specific to go, one could naturally go anywhere, and obviously the daughter was in no position to offer suggestions, knowing of virtually nothing outside of her bedroom.

So, instead, a direction was chosen: South. Towards a mysterious land, rumored to be ruled by a strange and terrible clan of mice. Killers, monsters, not only in morality, but in twisted shape as well. For the many who claimed it to be an unholy place of savagery, there were a few who would, instead, argue that it was a land of miracles and mysterious powers. As good a destination as any. It was difficult to be afraid of monsters, given their circumstances. When one saw, first hand, the callousness that 'good' mice were capable of, it grew difficult to hold much fear of evil ones, and they were, most certainly, in need of a miracle.

The pair traveled throughout the night. There were a few places to rest, but they were all clearly traps. Sheltered enough to keep you out of the wind, but nowhere near warm enough to allow you to properly rest and regain your strength. Those places might have sapped your energies a little slower than trudging through the nearly waist--high snow, but they'd still sap it just as surely. You'd stop to rest, and it would get harder and harder to work up the will to get moving again, until you inevitably froze.

The trip wasn't a silent one, either. Perhaps it would have been better to remain quiet and focus on staying warm, but even with the pair being together, that would have made for a lonely walk. The young child had no shortage of things to say, of course. Even in her drab room with no real education, she always had things to say, and here, with so much new to see and experience? Even if she were nearly frostbitten and in severe pain, she couldn't really be miserable. It was, in so many ways, a whole new world. She didn't ask where they were going, or when they would get there, nor did her father volunteer that information because, of course, he didn't really know, himself.

Aside from the slow death of the snowstorm, most of the dangers of the Maker's city were largely absent on a stormy night like this. Few vehicles could be heard, and absolutely no signs of the tall, lanky creatures were visible, even creatures as grand and powerful as themselves unwilling to brave the cold and the dark. The pair were not entirely alone on these streets, however. Occasionally they would come across footprints, bestial marks far too large to come from a mouse, and visible enough within the fallen snow to have only been created very recently. When out in the dark, it was similarly easy to grow paranoid, and feel as though you were being watched. Stalked. They very well might have been, as well, but if so, even their would-be pursuers must have either lost them within the whiteout, or simply decided that it wasn't worth the effort.

Time passed, and gradually the conversation slowed and ceased. Even at best, talking was a rather difficult task for a mouse who could hardly breathe, and the weather offered no favors. Things weren't much better for her father, who was a strong and hardy mouse, but even he had his limits. As disturbingly light as the package on his back may have been, it was still an extra burden in a situation where even placing one foot in front of the other, pressing forward through the deepening snow required an abundant effort.

He was fully aware of when the girl had completely stopped talking, and not long after, had lost consciousness entirely. As much as he wanted to find some sort of shelter and warmth for her, none were available. Nowhere to rest, to warm up, and certainly no food to eat or water to drink which wasn't frozen solid. Worse, he wasn't far from that state himself, barely aware of what he was doing, simply hoping that one of those slow, miserable steps would lead him to... something. Anything. Anywhere that help could be found, help that he could not give to his own child.

Not long after, he collapsed, face down in the snow, his child's body unmoving on his back. He made a valiant effort to push himself back up to his feet, but it was impossible. He couldn't feel his hands or feet, nor even his face, and all around him the cruel winds swirled and howled. He slowly closed his eyes, only partially re-opening them at the sight of lights in the distance, small yet intense beams of gold which pierced through the heavy white flakes.

"Please... help..." he called out to it in a weak voice, fully intending to complete the sentence with 'her', but unable to muster the strength for even a single extra syllable before losing consciousness.

It was quite a shock when he had awakened indoors, within a strangely warm metal room. At first he panicked at the lost weight at his back, but as his eyes adjusted to the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling, he looked up to see his daughter, sitting up on a strange metal table, lightly kicking her withered and blackened feet. Being examined by a monster. The sight gave him a start, but he quickly realized that it wasn't a monster, and even if it were, he was hardly in a position to complain. It was a mouse. Mostly, at least. There were bits of metal at each finger and a strange visor about its head, as he ran a strange, unfamiliar instrument along the girls thinly furred chest.

The frail child smiled, as she often does. Half of her chest was entirely concave, the shoulder and arm of that side impossibly thin (even by her standards), the skin beneath the fur going from a sickly purple bruising near the shoulder and upper arm to a near dead black at the paws. Her legs hardly fared better, clearly incapable of supporting even her own limited weight. She breathed slowly and deliberately, as she always does, a disturbing rattle audible within her chest and throat all the while, the sort of thing one would expect from a mouse on the brink of death, but she had had it since birth. Her smile widened ever still as she turned her head towards her father.

"You're awake!" She said in her usual low wheeze. "I was worried."

"Heh, you were worried?" He couldn't help laugh as he sat up a little too quickly, his head still spinning. Once he fully recovered he looked about and asked, "Where are we?"

"It doesn't have a name." Another mouse said, this one masked in metal and glass. An even more monstrous visage than that of the doctor, but the child didn't look the least bit frightened by his presence. "Our patrols were fortunate to spot you. We hadn't expected for any mice to be walking outside on a night like this."

"We didn't really have a choice." The father grumbled before remembering his place. "Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't thanked you yet. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't found us."

This was a lie, of course. Everyone in the room knew full well what would have happened, but it was still better left unsaid.

"What's the prognosis?" The masked mouse asked the nearby visored doctor, who sighed in response.

"One of her lungs is entirely non-functional. The other is both severely damaged and overworked, and it's only a matter of time before it fails. Even with a quick examination, there are clear signs of organ failure and severe circulation issues." The mouse doctor said. "Frankly, it's a miracle that she has survived this long. Even with conventional treatments and medications, it's unlikely she will make it another month."

Her father bit his lip in dismay. He didn't wish to complain, but didn't consider that sort of subject matter to be suitable for the child to hear, either. While he wasn't a medical expert, nor was anyone else in his old village, he knew full well the general assessment that she didn't have long, and, in his mind, that wasn't the sort of burden that an innocent youth should be subject to. Still, for her part, the girl listened with interest, seemingly unconcerned. She was in a similar position, after all. Despite the best efforts of the village adults to hide the bleakness of her condition from her, it was impossible for her to not know.

"Are you saying that there's nothing you can do?" The father asked, his shoulders slumped. Not that this idea was a shocking revelation either, or the least but unexpected. Still, it wasn't the sort of thing that anyone wanted to hear.

"No. That isn't what he said." The masked mouse replied, but this catches even the doctor by surprise. "There are measures which can be taken to save your daughters life."

"What? Really? I... I don't care what it takes, or how much it costs. Please... just help her." The still half-frozen parent exclaimed.

"Operations on this scale would be highly unrecommended, even on a fully grown and healthy participant." The doctor said. "It is incredibly unlikely that she would survive the procedure."

"You aren't mistaken, of course. There is little chance of success." The masked mouse nodded, "And if you have a better, safer option to help ensure that this child reaches adulthood, I would be eager to hear it." To which the doctor frowned a little, of course not having one, but still disliking the idea. "One needs to keep things in perspective. It was incredibly unlikely that this brave girl would have even lived this long. It was all the more unlikely her and her father would find himself up on our doorstep. While it is true, luck tends to be a finite resource, what happens twice can very well happen thrice."

"Whatever you can do to help, please." The father said again, shaking his head. "She deserves a better life than I've been able to give her. If there is even a chance that she could be healthy... that she could survive..."

"You have done well to take care of her all of this time. I imagine you've largely had to do it alone as well. I know from experience that other mice are rarely willing to help those in need." The masked mouse replied to him, "But, now, the matter is out of your hands. It is not your decision."

The tall, robed mouse in the mask turned to the young girl, dropping to one knee to get to eye level with her. "I know you are still young and not used to such responsibilities. I know that this world has given you little, but in the end, you still have your life, and nobody else has the right to decide what you should do with it. You can continue to live out the remainder of your days here, of course. I know not the circumstances which left you and your father alone in the snow, but we aren't cruel like other mice here. You may live in peace and comfort for as long as you possibly can, but it is only a matter of time, and I fear not that much of it, before your body fails you. Do you understand?"

The girls frowned a little and nodded, looking away from him.

"That is just one option, however. There is another: We can make you better. Not only can we repair your damaged body, but we can improve it. I won't lie to you, however. It will not be an easy process. It will hurt a great deal, and that is even relative to someone like yourself who, I suspect, is no stranger to pain. Worse, you could die. It isn't a slim chance, either, instead being highly likely. As my protege had stated, even for a grown up, this is a very dangerous procedure. You might not have a lot of time left, but you still have some, and you risk losing that as well."

The father stared silently at this, believing, full well, that is was far too much to dump on a sheltered child. As for her, however, she kept her head lowered, her brow furrowed in deep thought before finally looking up into the mask. "You said that you could make me better... could you make me as strong as other kids?" she asked.

"Of course. Much stronger, in fact."

The girl's ears perked up at this as she thinks a little more, showing a wide, mischievous grin. "Could you make me stronger than my dad?"

She said this, of course, joking, scarcely able to even imagine such a thing, her father being the absolute pinnacle of what a mouse could be in her mind. She fully expected the masked mouse to laugh back, but instead he took her withered paw in his own and spoke in a calm voice, "My little angel, if you so desire it," he said, "I can make you stronger than anyone."

<3~

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"And so he did." Gwendolynne smiled, sliding a pointed metal finger along the glass. "A completely outlandish promise, the first of many, yet he has never failed to deliver. And now he's promising the world."

"Do you... do you really think he can give you the world?" I asked, eyes transfixed on the tiny, twisted bones.

"He isn't offering it to me. It's for all of us." She said, turning back to me. "And I'm no longer a child. Thanks to him, I'm not scared and helpless anymore. I don't need to sit back and wait for others to fix the world for me. He doesn't need to do everything on his own. He can't, after all. As great as he might be, he's just a single mouse, and there are limits to what he can accomplish. But I'll do everything I can to help him along. To see that his dreams come true."

I looked around, taking in the trophies around me. Namely the weapons. "I can appreciate that." I said, "But what about all those other mice you killed? The mice that you plan no killing? They all have dreams, too. Are they not important?"

"No. They really aren't. Otherwise, they would have lived to achieve them." She said, flatly. "The only dreams that matter are the ones you can take hold of, and bring to light yourself. If they fail..." she paused, looking back to the bones, clearly thinking more about herself than the past victims, "they might as well have never existed."

"That doesn't seem right. Life is precious, even if we don't accomplish everything that we would have liked to." I said. I noticed her downcast expression, and thinking back to her story, I could see why she might not hold that viewpoint. "I guess I can understand why you might not care much about the lives of other mice. After they were willing to cruelly cast you aside."

She smiled, turning to me. "Make no mistake. I don't hate those mice for being cruel. Cruelty has its place. It might not be clean and noble, but it represents working towards some sort of goal, even if it is at the expense of others." She sighed, "No. I don't hate them for being cruel. I hate them for being weak."

I stood, surprised, unsure of what to say.

"If they hated me and cast me and my family aside as a result of that, I could accept it. That's how life works. I could even accept if they were entirely apathetic, entirely pragmatic on the matter. In the end, after all, their reasoning wasn't wrong: They lacked food, so why spend their limited resource on someone who was just going to die anyways?" She softly chuckled, shaking her head. "But no. Instead they chose the worst possible option: They hurt others and hurt themselves, and were going to continue to do so, and for what? Purely to preserve a miserable status quo where they'd surely live consumed by guilt. The idea of truly changing their way of life never even occurred to them. The idea that it was actually possible to get ahead in life, rather than just working to cut your losses wasn't even considered."

She slowly stepped over to me, placing a cold, metal paw on my shoulder. "The worst part? It's not even really their fault. They didn't decide to live like this, it's simply the only sort of life that they knew. It's the only life that any of you know."

"Okay, let's just say that all of this is true..." I said, "That we're all weak. Are you saying that all of our problems, well most of them, anyways, can simply go away? That this leader of yours can make us all stronger and smarter and healthier and improve the lives of all of us mice by leaps and bounds?"

"Yes. Not immediately, of course, but in due time." She said.

"Fine. If that really is true, then why are you trying to kill us? Why have this war at all? I think I heard that there was some messiness with our kingdoms first encountering one another, but why not send diplomats to the city? Why not show off your technology? Why not show people plans for how things could improve? If it's all so wonderful, why not just try to win them over, and get them to want to work alongside you, rather than, presumably, conquering and forcing everyone to?"

She paused, clearly in deep thought before she finally answered. "Do you know what it is like to be stuck in bed, with a diseased body that is rapidly failing you? What it is like to have no future? To be weak and helpless and feel unwanted by the very universe itself? To know that you'll only ever be a parasite which makes the world a worse place?"

"I... no." I said, frowning. "I have no idea what that must be like."

"You're wrong." She smiled. "You know exactly what it's like. You and all the rest of the mice are living that life right now. Maybe not exactly the same, but certainly close enough. In the grand sense of things, even my shriveled, dying body wasn't all that much weaker than the strongest mouse who ever lived. In the end, all of you, all of us are just weak and scared children, hiding from the world, awaiting the inevitable."

"That's not true." I said, "We've made great strides. We're making better weapons and fortifications, we're living longer, and one day..."

"One day, what? You'll maybe be as strong as a stray cat? Possibly, someday, be as strong as human? Incredibly unlikely, and even if you could? That's nothing!" she growled. Her paw on my shoulder clenched, causing some real pain, but she caught herself, loosening her grip before any damage could be done. "Your image of progress is basically a lie. You're just playing pretend. I know what it's like. Even back in my sickest and weakest, I was still happy. I liked my life, and would have fought to protect that miserable existence, were it anyone but me own father who wanted to take me from it. Even then, it was only because I trusted him more than I trusted myself."

The general sighed as she continued. "You're all the same. You'll accept minor, incremental changes, but grand sweeping ones, even ones which are universally beneficial? They terrify you. Or am I wrong?" she cast a side-eye to me, smiling softly. "Do you honestly believe that the citizens of your country would be eager to replace their limbs and organs, to abandon their silly magics and swordsmanship so long as we approached them and asked nicely enough?"

I could feel myself go pale. "Will... will that really be necessary?"

"Yes. In time. I wasn't some rare anomaly, in being born weak. I was just born a little weaker than everyone else. In the grand sense, you're all crippled and frightened and ignorant of the world around you, and without a drastic, fundamental change, the sort of change which you are unwilling and unable to bring about yourselves? You always will be. Just look at those 'dark lords' which you consider to be so impressive: Lazy, stupid, spoiled beasts which beg the 'Makers' for their scraps. And yet they're still at a level that flesh and blood mice could never hope to reach."

"Oh, and you're so superior, huh?" I asked, folding my paws about my chest. I went cold as she smiled in response, and said nothing. She didn't need to say anything. In her eyes I could see no even faint sense of fear of the walking calamities capable of destroying entire mouse civilizations, including my own which had nearly fallen to an attack from such a beast.

"Why am I here?" I finally asked her, shoulders slumped, feeling as though I'd already lost the argument. "If we're so stupid and worthless and immune to reason, if the only way we can change is through violence, why are you even bothering to talk to me? Why did you spend so much time showing me this place?"

She paused, apparently having not anticipated that question. "Well, it was Vania who brought you here. Like I said, it wasn't my decision." She smiled a bit, "I'll bet you're awfully curious about her, aren't you?"

"Huh?" I said, "Well, yeah, I guess so. There's been a lot going on, so I haven't had much chance to think about it. She does look pretty unusual. What's her story?"

"She felt that faces were a big hassle. Lots of cleaning and maintenance, and people regularly pre-judged you based on them. Then there's the ears, and hers were particularly large, which were just a huge pain to manage. She just got fed up with it all, came here, and, well... she got rid of all that bother." Gwendolynne couldn't but help smile as she told the story.

"Wait, that's it?" I asked. "I was expecting something a lot more dramatic."

The woman laughed outright. "Of course you were. I have no doubt that you envisioned some terrible accident or deformity which lead to her current condition. I can see it in your eyes. Even after all of this, you still see us as a broken and desperate people."

"That's... not true." I said, rather unconvincingly.

"Oh, of course it is. You think we're just trying to be fixed, in the same way your own kind would repair of broken tool or a wall or even a bone. Something patched back together, where even the most impressive job of it, and I have no doubt that you recognize our work to be impressive, will never quite be whole. Something which will always be an inferior version of the original unbroken item."

"And what should I see you as?" I asked, maintaining a neutral tone.

"Ascended." She said. "Sure, I did originally come here sickly and with no other options, but being born so feeble was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Were I born healthy, what would have happened? If I were lucky, I'd grow to old age, working some bland and monotonous trade, raising children, and eventually dying so that miserable and pointless cycle could begin anew. Instead? Now I'm part of a world that I couldn't have even imagined before. I have a sense of real strength, real growth, and I know full well that it will only continue. Now, I truly believe that we live in a world where there is nothing that cannot be accomplished, and there is nothing that needs to be feared. And do you know why that is?"

I shook my head. I had absolutely no idea what sort of answer she expected from me.

"It isn't because we are intrinsically smarter or stronger or more powerful. In the end, we rose to these heights, and will continue to rise purely because we are bold. We attain such strength because we are willing to risk everything to obtain it. That's how Vania managed to raise herself to the level of General, like me. Not so say that she isn't both strong and a clever tactician, but in the end it was because, well... do you have any idea just how dangerous a full head replacement is? You don't need to answer that. The answer is 'extremely', and unlike someone like me, who had nothing to lose? She choose to embrace that risk, not out of need, but purely she wanted something more out of this world. That, there, is the attitude which drives us to ever greater heights. The attitude, which, to some extent, every single mouse within this fortress, without exception, possesses. The sort which you, and your kind, do not."

I stood silently for a moment, taking all of this in. "You still didn't answer my question. Why are you spending so much time trying to convince me?"

She frowned a little and stepped aside, picking up a cracked wooden sword which rested on a metal vertical stand. "Who knows? Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe I just like to brag." She said, "Or maybe, just maybe, I'd like to believe that your kind are also capable of more. That we really aren't so different. That I won't have to keep killing you."

She sighed as she set down the weapon, and I felt an air of genuine sadness from her at the sight of it, and the loss of life involved in its retrieval. She smiled to me once again. "I've kept you long enough, and I need to tend to my father. Do you know your way back to your room?"

I was mildly confused, but remembered the place I had originally awoken, complete with the bed and nearby plate of food. The place that I had initially mistaken for a prison. I nodded my head.

"Good. As much as I would love for you to fully agree with my point of view right away, I know things don't work like that. This is all very new to you, and an awful lot to take in, and... well.. as much as I would like to believe otherwise, I know some people, most in fact, are incapable of truly changing. Just... try to give it some thought, alright?"

I nodded. "I will. I promise."

She nodded as well, and departed to the sitting room, as promised, speaking with her now aged and confused parent. I made a point not to eavesdrop, quickly departing without another word. It was an easy promise to make. Of course I would spend some time thinking about everything I had taken in. I failed to see how I could possibly do otherwise. Even as tired as I was, I couldn't imagine sleep coming easily that night. I wasn't wrong.

<3~

It would have been foolish to imply that I had learned nothing from my time here, but there were a lack of a dramatic revelations. While the specifics may have varied, much about the place was as I had expected. Sure, there was always the frightening possibility that these aggressors were mindless savages, but even early on in our journey, I considered that fact to be pretty unlikely. Ultimately, they were just mice, with their own ways of looking at things. Everyone is the hero in their own story, after all, even villains. Especially villains, one could argue.

No, the guiding forces of this place were not bloodthirsty barbarians. But that didn't mean that they weren't wrong. They were wrong from the beginning, and even should they win in the end, they'd still be wrong. They were wrong the moment that they decided to start killing in order to achieve their goals. This wasn't because life is some precious thing, or me appealing to a greater morality, of course, as I was in no position to do so. The problem with killing as a solution to a problem is that you'll never, ever stop. Even if the dire situation of the moment is resolved, there will always another around the corner, and even putting such things aside, there will always be petty issues and inconveniences.

The real problem with violence, one that many people are unwilling to accept, is that it is incredibly effective. Sure, a leader will always argue or at least imply that it is a temporary thing, but why would it be? If it's shown to work, why approach other matters with less effective solutions? It's not as though justifying the taking of lives grows more difficult with time. Quite the contrary, in fact. It will only get easier. There was no utopia for these people on the horizon. Even if they were to accomplish all of their goals, and get everything that they wanted, they'd still face a future of terror and endless bloodshed.

And then there's me. The ultimate hypocrite. Condemning the use of violence, all the while skulking through the dark fortress like a thief, and plotting to take the life of an unarmed man. Oh well. There are worse things one can be than a hypocrite.

While there was no sun or other natural light to this place, there was still an artificial day and night cycle, even if it was out of sync and somewhat shorter than the natural one. This made sense due to the fact that the fortress mostly moved at night when the Makers were less active. It would seem that for all of the admittedly impressive augmentations of mouse physiology that these people had designed, they haven't eliminated the need for sleep. The bright and clean community was silent and foreboding at night, but then most places are, to some extent. It's simply the nature of night. It was much quieter than my kingdom, however, where things certainly slowed down but there was an abundance of activity as all hours of the day. Here, if one didn't know better, they'd think the place was a tomb. There were no couples taking late night walks, not even a single guard patrolling the streets. Not even the sounds of distant wildlife. If one were to listen extra closely, they could hear the soft, steady hum of the machinery beneath their feet, but even that was easy to miss.

I looked down at the blade in my paws. I would have liked to claim that I had done an excellent job of hiding it, but the reality was that my captors hadn't even considered disarming me, just as they hadn't considered keeping me under proper guard. Was this a gesture of good faith? A sign that they trusted me? No, the reality was that they simply didn't consider me to be a threat. I couldn't say that I blamed them. I never considered myself to be a threat, either. Even as I approached the large fortification at the far end of the city, I felt no sense of courage or determination. I was just moving forward because, well, what else could I do?

No guards, once again. The building wasn't even sealed. That was a legitimate concern, seeing as how many of the structures on the lower level appeared impregnable, gated by thick metal doors which slid into place and formed a seal that was as impermeable as any solid wall. Instead, it was closed off by a simple cloth curtain. Why would the great shadow king need anything more than that, after all?

The whole thing was rather foolish. Even if I could bring myself to do this, there was little reason to believe that anything would change. Still, I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe that, in the end, these were good mice who were being coerced by a madman. That even someone like Gwendolynne, who had killed so many mice in the past, would be able to find redemption once freed from his influence. That everyone could live happily ever after, and who knows how many innocent lives would be spared, and that all that it would cost was a single life. As silly as it all sounded, for some reason, however, it didn't feel so implausible. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, or maybe, just maybe, I was being driven by a higher destiny, and given the chance to not only write, but to define the history to come. It was most likely the first thing.

And there he was. The room was a large, open chamber, a sort of war room with a round table at the center covered in maps and scribbled notes. It was ornately decorated, the furnishings having less of a metallic and pragmatic look to them than most of what this fortress held, and at the far end of the ill lit chamber was a broad, full-length mirror, which Mollenoch himself stood before.

I froze in place. I couldn't make out many details within the gloom, but what I did see bore little resemblance to the towering figure who I had seen speak before. To one side stood a metal rack on which a heavy cloak and even heavier pauldrons hung. Without them, the shadow king was still tall, especially compared to myself, but nowhere near as broad as he had first appeared. He no longer looked like an all encompassing sinister shadow. He simply looked like a mouse.

"We shall scratch and claw through the very flesh, rip out the very heart of this corrupt world!" He shouted, gesticulating wildly in front of the mirror, "Then, as it wails for mercy, we shall bite deep, and feel the life's blood of all of reality drip down out chins, and know that we, above all others, stand triumphant!"

He raised both arms, breaking out into wild, echoing cackling which made my skin crawl. Then it stopped abruptly, midway through, as the man lowered his arms and shook his head. "Hmm, no, that's not terrible, but a little bit grotesque for my liking. I do like the imagery of holding the heart of all things within our hands, but the whole blood dripping down our faces thing? That's a little much."

I could only stand and stare as I saw him scribbling down notes upon a pad of paper in his paw, one very much similar to the style I had been using all this time.

"Are you still here?" He asked. The shadow king didn't so much as turn his head or even flick a rounded ear in my direction, his eyes still set upon his own reflection. Still, even aside from the obvious fact that there is nobody else around, I knew that he is talking to me. My whole body shook and I felt a sickness in my stomach. The small dagger within my paws had never felt heavier. "You know, it's rude to intrude upon a gentleman's chambers unannounced. I am a very busy man, and have so few moments to myself. I suppose I shouldn't expect anything better from your uncivilized kind, however."

His voice was perfectly calm and measured, Completely different from how it had sounded just a moment before. There were, of course, no shortage of possible explanations for this, but deep down, I knew the truth. The worst possible option, in my mind. "You..." I said, looking to the back of the mouse with wide eyes. "You're not mad at all, are you?"

He chuckled, not the wild maniacal laughter I had witnessed more than once, but rather a soft, bemused sound, almost pitying in nature. "Sadly, no. I am very much sane. Well, at least in the ways that matter."

"But... why?" I asked, still frozen in place. "Why pretend?"

"Why would I pretend to be insane?" He asked, incredulously, "Why wouldn't I? Look around you! The world is a mad place, and it is my duty, nay my privilege to change it. Who could possibly trust a simple, common mouse with simple common thoughts to accomplish such an audacious goal? No, the people need a source of faith, and it cannot be in a product of the ordinary world which has so failed them. It requires someone truly exceptional, with a mind that can defy conventional logic and reason, and carve an unexpected path into this cold and deterministic universe!"

I could only stare as he pontificated, giving just as much of a speech as he had before, perhaps even expressing equally baffling viewpoints, but in such a calm and leveled manner that the truth, or at least the belief of his words were clear.

"But, enough about me. You have a job to do, do you not?" He turned to me, his unmasked face still shrouded in the shadows of the dark room. "You've come to murder a poor, unarmed mouse in cold blood. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. You wish to protect those friends of yours, and this is the correct course of action. The only course of action. So, get on with it. I'll be honest with you, I don't like your chances of success, but hey, stranger things have happened, right? Perhaps you'll get lucky. Perhaps destiny is truly on your side, and will guide your hand to strike true." he smiled, the traces of it visible even through the gloom, as he spread his arms wide and raised them, leaving his body completely exposed. "So, go on. Kill me. Save the day. Stain your paws with my blood." he smiled wider still, "Be the big hero."

I raised my blade, struggling to hold it still within my shaking hands. All that I needed to do was rush forward and hope for the best. It was not as though I had anywhere to retreat to, as my intentions had already been revealed. Sure, even unarmed he was a legendary hero and a highly skilled warrior, but I had nothing at all to lose from trying. As he said, I might even succeed. That idea had somehow frightened me even more than failure.

I dropped the knife to the floor, turned and sprinted away. Or at least I attempted to. I, instead immediately collided with a solid metal barrier, or at least what felt like one, and stumbled backwards. I would have fallen over completely, had I not been caught by something which clamped about my neck. I looked up to see the half cyborg mouse, the enemy general, Gwendolynne, glaring at me with a hateful expression. I frantically struck at her and clawed at the arm which slowly lifted me from the ground, trying to yank out the cords and tubes which ran through the limb, but while they had looked to be points of potential vulnerability, they might as well have been made of solid steel themselves.

"Weak to the end." She said, her eyes cold, unfazed by my feeble struggles. "I should have known better than to put my hopes in a primitive."

"There is nothing wrong with hope." The shadow king said, having not moved from his place before the mirror. As he spoke, my vision began to blur, and my body weakened. "We would be nothing without it. There was no harm in trying, even if doing so just validated what we had already known."

"Yeah." The woman said, her voice still angry, and I sensed, a bit little hurt. "No harm. What should I do with this one? Kill him?"

Everything began to go dark, as I still felt the impossibly strong hand squeezing my throat. Although not the most eloquent statement for what could very well have been my final words, I managed to cough out, "You're not mad at all..." I said, directed to the man behind me. "Just... stupid."

This certainly didn't earn me any favors from my former tour guide, as she glowered, but as for Mollenoch himself, he simply chuckled. "I never claimed to be an intelligent man. Only a necessary one." Before he remarked to his general, "Killing him hardly seems necessary. He might still be of some minor use. Take him to the interrogation chamber."

I managed to catch a final glimpse of the cold, cruel smile from Gwendolynne, and had a few seconds to take in those words before I lost consciousness. I briefly envisioned shackles, torture devices, starvation and harsh lights at all hours of the day. The reality, instead, proved to be far, far worse.