“The truth of the matter is that if you end up thinking ‘this is for the greater good’, you should sit down and take a moment to think about what exactly the greater good is.”

* Ardevsky, Direnian philosopher

Helena glared at Zara and Bim. “If the Archons control leveling, and are on Stillbottums’ side, why didn’t they just make Andrium invincible, for instance, or take away our Classes for trying to kill him?”

  “I have two theories. The first, is that they like to encourage competition and conflict, and by letting us level against great threats that they endorse, they can play both sides. The second theory is that they are bound by rules and laws we don’t yet understand that force them to only give out so many levels, or that force them to have us level up after facing impossible odds.”

  “And now,” Zara said, “Bim and I are shielded from the Archons’ influence by the Giants.”

  Helena stared at her with unconcealed disgust. “So what? You’re trading supposedly tyrannical masters for unknown, potentially kinder ones? How much progress is that really? I’d rather side with those I know, those that can give me bountiful levels, rather than beings I’ve never heard of that seem to be struggling just to have a presence.”

  “You have to break whatever pact you made with the Archons.” Bim said fiercely, not budging one inch. “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’ve seen their true faces. Or truer ones, at least. If you let them control you so completely, it will undermine this entire effort.”

  “I can’t… I can’t do this.” Helena stumbled away, sorrow in her eyes, and strode to the front door, flung it open, and ran off into the night. Greg rose quickly and waved off a shocked Bim and an uncertain Zara while murmuring: “I’ll look after her.” He followed her out the door at a steady pace, chasing after her into the night.

  Zara shook herself after a moment. “She has a point, even if it comes from a misguided place. I know the Giants are peaceable at least, but they’re still Firstborn. I have to wonder… will we ever truly rule ourselves?”

🟌

Greg caught Helena’s hand as she ran. She slowed, and turned, looking towards him questioningly.

  “I wish… I wish it was easier, too, Helena. But that just isn’t how things work most of the time. I don’t want to believe any more than you do that the creatures we’ve been worshiping as divine beings since we’ve had words to praise them with are corrupt and vile, but I trust Bim and Zara. I don’t want to believe them, but my desires, my dreams, shouldn’t override reality, or allow me to live in denial about the harshness of the world we live in. You can be , I won’t judge, but you can’t just abandon the team because the truth is hard to swallow.”

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  “I can’t do this right now. There’s a citywide manhunt searching for us, we’re being called terrorists-- maybe we are, but we have good reasons. And now the Archons might be broken at heart-- we should leave. Just go. Seek out answers. Seek out the truth, definitively.”

  Greg reached out a hand. “Then let’s do that. Come back, tell the others, and let’s find out what’s really going on.

Level 21!

🟌

Stillbottums stood atop a podium in the late morning light, the rain having abated. Thousands had gathered, packing the central square, to witness the first coronation of an Esultaran in over three hundred years.

  “My people, I must say that in recent days we have suffered great losses. Insurgents, seeking to destabilize this great nation, managed to assassinate Andrium, acting with malice and destruction in their hearts. This kind of blow to our national security is enough to make all of us grieve and look towards the future with fear. But I promise you this: I am your . I am your protector and your ruler, your judge and your executioner. I am your defender and your warden. And I will not allow this great treason to go unanswered for.” As he took a silver circlet from the velvet pillow, carried by a , next to the podium, a tomato smacked him directly in the eye, splattering and dripping down his face and neck, getting into his hair.

  Develeon’s Talent, as well as the lesser Talents of various officers stationed around the square, had broken in the face of so many people filled with so much confusion and anger. “The real treason is what your did! What YOU did!” One person hollered, and similar cries were taken up by many in the crowd.

  The newly crowned King felt his face, then looked at his hands, not gauntleted for once, as seeds and red liquid seeped down them. As people began to rush the stage, fleeing and guards trying desperately to keep the onslaught at bay, the ’s head rose.

“SILENCE!”

The crowd was suddenly completely quiet.

   “All of you are unworthy.” He seethed, spittle frothing at the corners of his mouth. “I . Go now. Before I decide to be less merciful.”

The crowd seemed to waiver, uncertain, fearful, rage quieted for a moment.

“GO!”

Like a flock of startled sheep, people fled from the stage, fled from the square, a primal fear filling them, driving them to be as far away from that man as possible. Half a mile away, people began to regain their senses-- and remembered why Esultare did not have .