Day had broken. The sun’s orange light shined through the open windows of the hovel at the edge of Barbush. It was a small cellar, more fit for rats than men. Jean lay on the floor, his hands tied and his mouth gagged, next to a square wooden table where three men sat—Branko, Caligula, and Gustav.

“It is fortunate you could come,” Branko said to Kaiser.

“I just want to leave. Nothing good’s come from me being in this town. I came here, got what I wanted, and I just want to go.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t. We still have to sort out what happened last night,” Branko said as he turned to Caligula. “What do you recall happening?”

Caligula cleared his throat. “Von and I stepped into the room. Mr. Jean had a gun to this fine gentlecleric’s head,” he said, gesturing to Kaiser, “and he tried to fire on us. He killed Von, but I neutralized him.”

Branko turned his head to Kaiser. “Would you say that’s all true?”

Kaiser stared at Branko. He made sure not to make eye contact with either Gustav or Caligula. “Yes. . . Yes, that’s true.”

“Good. Then, I’ll have to take what you two have said as truth. There’s no reason for me to suspect either of you’ve lied. Caligula, escort Kaiser out of the room.”

Caligula stood up from his chair and placed his hand on his chest, saluting Branko. He scaled the flight of stairs everyone had taken down to the basement and Kaiser followed, both leaving through the crooked wooden door at the top.

“Now then,” Branko said as he shifted his chair in Gustav’s direction. “Why have you requested an audience with me?”

“To negotiate Mr. Jean’s freedom.”

“Mr. Gustav, there will be no freedom for him. Today is Friday, and every Saturday, a supply truck comes to this village.”

“I know. It’s because of the Drauxian Reconstruction Act.”

“When that truck arrives early Saturday morning, Mr. Jean will be taken off to a proper Drauxian prison.”

“And his representation?”

“What about it?”

“Every man gets fair representation in the court of Draux. Well, it’s the divine court now that Golodia’s in their palm.”

“It is a grave crime to kill a Drauxian soldier. It is an even greater shame for the soldier’s officer. I’ve beared enough shame, enough humilities from this man just by this single act. He will see prison.”

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Gustav leaned in over the table to Branko. “Even if he’s from the Undergrowth?”

Branko had an expression of worry on his face, but he quickly returned to his silent anger. “Why would that information help his case?”

“I know what Draux did behind the scenes. In fact, I was one of the lackeys who was in those scenes. I know the Undergrowth helped smuggle Glascanian supplies over to Draux when the war began to grow dire. Food, ammo, armor, and even people. It took quite a few priests forced into fighting to turn things into a draw, and the Undergrowth did all of it.”

Branko was silent.

“Here is what’s going to happen: You’ll let Jean go. He’s already roughed up, shot in the stomach and whatnot. When the supply truck driver asks to take Jean back, you’ll explain to him that what really happened is that this Von fellow, he had a bit too much to drink after heading back from training, so he went and tried to rob poor Jean.”

“Why would I obey you? You do not command me. You are no officer of the army. You’re just a gangster.”

“That’s true. But, if you don’t do what I say, I’ve got quite a few contacts that’d be willing to stir up chaos in Draux. They’ll act as informants, spreading the truth around of what Draux really did. Every man, woman, and child will learn their local priest didn’t decide to pick up his rosary and start killing his own countrymen in the name of Draux’s glory through a change of heart. They’ll know they were just poor souls forced into using their magics.”

“This is preposterous.”

“It really is that you won’t just let Jean go free.”

Branko stood up from his chair and stared Gustav straight in the eyes. “You would start a war in your own country so this criminal may go free and spread his torment to other people?”

Gustav remained seated. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Branko, meeting his powerful gaze with his own stoicism. “Are you willing to let me start that war?”

Branko was silenced again. He could not comprehend Gustav’s confidence in what he thought could possibly be a lie. Branko, already reminded of his encumbering guilt through the presence of Kaiser, buckled. He decided he could not be responsible for any more tragedy.

“How many informants do you have?”

“Three. They’re all veterans from the military. They already got a letter heading to them about this situation. If you kill me, they’ll know, and they’ll get to work real quick.”

Branko looked down at both his hands. He pictured the impending destruction that could happen from the turmoil caused by Gustav’s informants. He sat back down in his chair and steadied himself, taking a deep breath.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

“I will. . . Agree to your terms. Mr. Jean will go free tomorrow. But, I want both of you gone from this town by this Monday.”

Gustav got up from his chair and headed for the stairs. “I’m fine with that.”

Branko sat in silence after Gustav left. There was not a single noise in the cellar. He muttered to himself of his regrets. There were many to be had. The war, lost friends, easily preventable deaths, memories of all came forth. But, in the mess of misery that plagued his thoughts, he reached desperately for the only virtuous memory among them: That he had saved Kaiser.

“Hearts black. All of them. . . But is my heart so tainted I can be no critic? Can the lone torch fill the endless void? Surely, it cannot. An empty sinner I am, aren’t I?” Branko looked down to Jean who still slept under the effects of the medicine given to him. “This is just one more sin. Just one more. For the greater good, too. A single soldier’s life. . . It cannot match the value of the people they protect.”

Branko clasped his hands together to pray. It was purely solitary, only for him, for he had no need for a priest. He knew now there was no absolving his sins. “Rest well, man of Draux.”