The Pack stayed in a room that, while spacious, lacked the kinds of amenities that one would normally expect from part of a royal residence. And this was the royal residence. There were enough beds, of course, and basic amenities like the single walk-in restroom, but calling it remotely lavish would be a lie. It was less of a guest room and more of a room-shaped space that happened to have several beds placed in it.

"Is this really all they can afford?" Nash said.

"Don't be greedy," Riley said.

"Right. But..."

"I know there isn't an indoor shower, but we didn't ask to be here, it just kind of happened to us. The shower is the area in the courtyard with the pipes running above it. Ask one of the butler demons to fill it up for you."

"Yeah, but why aren't there any curtains?"

"Beats me. Maybe it's just a weird demon culture thing? I didn't have any privacy when I lived in the Empire, so I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but I'm used to enclosed baths, like at the inn."

"Aren't you all."

"I have questions," Blake said. "But questions aside, baths are less hygienic. You just sit in your own filth. I'm glad to have a real shower, like back at the guild's gym."

"Oh, the guild! They have guilds here, right?" Nash said. "But we can't leave yet..." he added, after remembering their current situation.

"Well, it's almost time. If you're okay with being greasy until we get out of here, you can wait. You're the only one, though," Blake said.

"It's not that bad. It's only been half a week."

"Buddy, where I'm from, everyone showered every single day."

Every single day? everyone else thought, shocked.

"Yeah, really. Unless you were a shut-in, or a freak."

Stunned silence.

"So... You... Is that why you..." Nash said.

"Yeah? That's why I bring an extra barrel of water between towns. Gotta rinse off all that sweat, at the very least, even if I can't afford to soap up."

"So that's the reason," Riley said.

"Sorry, not sorry. I'm just surprised you guys wash your hands. Where I come from, people figured out the daily shower before they figured out hand washing. Some people, at least."

"That's a surprise? Really? From what I was taught, that's been a thing since three thousand years ago. Jeanna, Millennial Hero and Saint, taught the people of the world that our hands and bodies carry plague sprites, but that they come off in water, sometimes with soap if they are stubborn. Of course, we knew that our lungs carried plague sprites even before her, but she showed us so much more. She single-handedly ended the age of plagues, among a few other things, before her tragic death," Sophia said.

"Another saint, huh. Wait, so you're saying you've had hand-washing for thousands of years, but outside of the guild, showering is still this?"

He pointed out the window at the shower. A demon was using it, fully exposed.

"What do you mean, 'still'? I'm accustomed to ones with screens."

"Never mind. It's almost time, let's keep quiet."

They waited for the guards to arrive. It was only a minute or two.

"Blake," the foremost guard said. He was being singled out.

"Got it," Blake responded, standing back up and heading out the door as he was instructed. His arms were shackled together behind his back the moment he passed through the doorway.

Riley tried to follow him, but the guard placed his halberd across the door, blocking her exit.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Stay," the guard said.

"But—"

"You too might have your time. That time has not yet come."

"Grrr..."

"Riley, you don't have to worry. I'll be fine. But... If something does happen, come running for me. Don't let anyone stop you. You'll know," Blake said.

"But..."

She faltered. It wasn't good enough. How was she supposed to know? Something inside her told her she would, but she didn't understand it. It didn't feel right.

She clenched her teeth and backed away.

"Okay. Come back soon," she said.

----------------------------------------

"We hereby accuse you, Blake Jackson, of being the Millennial Hero, and of conspiring to destroy Demon civilization."

"What the fuck?"

The demon queen ignored him and continued speaking.

"One thousand years ago, the Millennial Hero came to this land from the faraway country of Japan, destined to kill the evil and genocidal Demon Lord. And indeed the Demon Lord deserved to fall. He enslaved all of humanity, erased the elves and dwarves from existence, and filled the skies with smog. The soil was rotten. The winters were harsh. And all of his subjects desired nothing but the taste of human suffering. He was a most despicable ruler indeed. Thus, the Millennial Hero of Japan was a welcome hero to all, and us demons were exiled to the Netherway. And now, one thousand years later, us demons return. But behold us, Blake. Do we appear so evil to you? Tell us now."

The demon queen was giving a complete information overload, and Blake was having a hard time retaining it. But he did manage to pick out what he needed to immediately understand.

Netherway? I guess by the name it's some weird hard to live place, huh, Blake thought.

"No. Not at all. In fact you're probably the least evil ruler in the area all things considered," he said.

"Precisely. Now, then, assuming you are the Millennial Hero, why should we not kill you immediately? If you do not provide a prompt answer, we will kill you on the spot. Tell us now."

She hammered her weapon into the floor.

Blake's heart raced. This escalated very, very quickly.

"Uh... If you're not evil, and I'm the hero, then I'm probably supposed to go kill someone other than you? And killing me would throw a wrench into, uh, fate's plans for that kind of thing. So fate might smite you. I dunno. I have no idea how this world's destiny stuff works."

"A fair argument from your place of self-admitted ignorance. Very well. We shall stay our hand. For now. But there are possibilities other than the one you are considering. The harmonious and evermarching system of interconnected magicks and otherworldly divine forces ensuring the regular and repeated rise of the Millennial Hero do not play by mortal moral standards. Indeed it is known of the Song of Cycles to be compassionless and uncaring. Knowing that, what power is there to ensure that the Millennial Hero is good? Is there any such assurance at all? For all you know, the hero of this cycle is fated to be a Dark Hero, not a paragon of good and justice. Speak freely."

"Honestly I have no idea but I can promise that I'm a good guy."

"Oh? Might a 'good guy' kill a group of men who are acting according to the standards and expectations of their own society?"

"I don't remember doing anything like that."

"It was perhaps your first experience in this world, assuming that you are indeed from another, and that your first noticed activity coincided with your arrival."

Blake panicked. "Wait, you know about that?"

"Do not underestimate our connections."

"Okay, look, listen, I'll tell you exactly what happened there. Whatever your connections are, they can't know how it actually went down, right?"

"Indeed. We only know what was apparent at the scene of the incident—a mound of burnt bodies. Continue."

"Okay. Those thugs found me on the ground somewhere, I think, when they were chasing Riley. I was a free man. As far as I know. But they knocked me out, roped me up, and stuck me in their carriage. I woke up, got myself free, and untied Riley. We got the carriage to stop and got out and killed most of them. I saw it as self-defense, because they were abducting me, and they weren't, like, guards or soldiers or something. You with me so far?"

"Yes. Continue."

"Okay. Then I realized I could transfer Riley to me to keep her from getting sold off to wherever she was going. Because I'm a Scribe for some reason."

"Transfer?" the queen said, narrowing her eyes.

"Right. I just kind of reassigned ownership to myself. From the slavers. But that's when I got the idea of burning them up. Get rid of the evidence. Make it less likely for Riley to get tracked down. It would make identification take longer, we could get further away. She said that they were all well connected, the legal ones."

"The 'legal' Transporters, yes. Did you consider that what you were doing might cause unexpected harm elsewhere?"

"Nope. Nothing stands between me and my freedom. I own my body and the ground I stand on, always. I just went the extra mile back there, finishing the job."

"It is that very 'finishing the job' that makes the heroic way of thinking dangerous, human. And what of the wolfling's body? Does she not own it herself?"

"Call it what you want. I'm sure there's something else out there to balance it out. People like you, maybe. And with Riley, uh... It's complicated. There weren't any better options. Not then, and not right now, either. I'm gonna make it right eventually."

"Some of those men had families."

"I'm sure of it. Feels bad."

"Indeed it does 'feel bad'. Very well. That is an acceptable posture to take towards the lives you have taken. But we are not finished on the topic of Riley's autonomy. You may no longer speak freely. A'Vahi."

"Yes, my queen," A'Vahi said, appearing from the shadows. He was fully enrobed, hood up. Blake couldn't make out any of his features or tell if he was carrying any weapons. To A'Vahi, as spymaster and commanding general, no amount of additional security around foreigners was too much, especially not in the company of the queen.

"What the—"

"Silence," the queen said, hammering the blunt end of her weapon into the floor.

Blake gulped.

"A'Vahi. You shall bring the others here. Go."

"Yes, my queen."

Blake waited.