Karl managed to get the other transformees to leave him alone by telling them about what’d he done with Ichigo. The others were excited by the possibility of giving their spirits the power to interact with the real world, and went off to experiment on their own, leaving Karl alone to continue his research.

Even better, Ichigo had gotten a sixth console for Karl and was serving as Karl’s fingers. Things were progressing at much more quickly this way, though Karl had had to give Ichigo the ability to read Trenton script, and that had taken a while to figure out.

“As long as I don’t mess anything else up,” Karl said, “we shouldn’t need any more.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Ichigo said.

The oni sat cross-legged atop the car’s roof, with the console laid out in front of him and Karl leaning in from the side to watch.

“There,” Karl said, “tap Geoffrey’s name.”

“I know, I know.”

It took a long time for the article about Geoffrey to appear. Karl figured it was because the world was ending, and Ichigo had agreed.

“This stuff worked more quickly when Lord Uramaru and I were alive,” Ichigo said.

For Karl, reading the article about the biological warfare had been equal parts sobering and painful. He couldn’t believe his countrymen would do something so awful, and he simply refused to believe that Geoffrey, of all people, could have been involved.

“It can’t be true,” Karl said, muttering aloud. “We wouldn’t do that. Darkpox is unholy. To use it to kill so many people…” He shuddered. “That’s insane! Part of the story has to be missing.” He turned to Ichigo. “How can you be so sure Trentoners used darkpox against you as a weapon of war?”

“You doubt their Flying Cloud?” Ichigo asked. “From what Lord Uramaru saw, it holds all the world’s truths.”

It mortified Karl that he couldn’t say, “yes,” no matter how much he wanted to.

And he really, really wanted to.

“I want to know more.” Karl pointed at Ichigo. “You were there, but the people who wrote this history weren’t.” He motioned toward the console with one of his elbows.

Ichigo scoffed. “We lived it. That plague came to Lord Uramaru’s estate, and Lord Uramaru told me he’d received words from Sakuragi’s agents that the Trentoners were to blame.”

“Nighttouched Sakuragi? The Butcher?” Karl asked.

Ichigo nodded. “Yes, I agree, the man was a monster—and so were his agents—but… they never failed to get the truth. According to their report, rebel partisans had been planting darkpox in nobles’ estates across the colonies. The disease might be a force of nature, but the outbreak was man-made.”

Ichigo glanced at the console “The article!” he said, suddenly startled. “It’s appeared!”

Karl craned his neck over to look. Then, slowly, he began to read. He should have felt his heart racing in his chest, but he no longer had one, or so Dr. Rathpalla had told him. He was barely a few lines in when he came across a passage that made him stop cold in his tracks and hold his breath in his chest.

Karl read the text aloud, barely above a whisper.

“Athelmarch showed great promise and a brilliant tactical mind. He was the first to propose the use of darkpox against the Munine during the Third Crusade, giving him the dubious honor of being known in Trenton history as the father of biological warfare.”

Karl stared at the words blankly.

“No,” he muttered. “No. It can’t be. It can’t…”

Any trace of pride in Ichigo’s face instantly vanished. The oni’s eyebrows drooped; his lips fell over his white fangs.

“He… he what?”

Karl stared at the text on the screen. “You heard it. He wasn’t just involved with the use of darkpox. It was his idea.” Karl wept. “This… this can’t be true. There has to be some kind of mistake!”

“Why?” Ichigo asked.

“Because…” Karl said, weeping softly. “That’s just not who Geoffrey was!”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am!” Karl said, angered by Ichigo’s doubts. “Scroll through the article,” he said.

Ichigo complied.

“Not so quickly!”

Ichigo slowed down.

“There,” Karl said. He thumped his hand on the car’s roof, punching a hole in the metal in the process. “Stop.”

Ichigo did, and then read aloud.

“Both as a soldier and later as a commander, Athelmarch excelled on the battlefield. He commanded fierce loyalty from his troops, most famously in a controversy with the Archluminer of Lightsbreath, who attempted to have Athelmarch stripped of his rank out of fear that Athelmarches’ ‘cursed bloodline’ risked stoking divine retribution against the Crusaders. Athelmarch’s men fended off templar guards brought by the Archluminer to have Athelmarch arrested for crimes against the faith.”

“I remember that…” Karl said, tears trickling from Karl’s eyes. “I was there.”

Karl’s memory of the day Archluminer Fawkes came for Geoffrey was more vivid than ever before. He remembered the cold winter morning’s air, the heat and pressure from all the armored soldiers standing alongside one another in solidarity with their leader.

Now, as then, the moment warmed Karl’s chest.

“Archluminer Fawkes was such a dastard,” he said.

“I’ve never met one of your priests who wasn’t,” Ichigo added.

“No,” Karl rebutted, “you don’t understand. The charges Fawkes brought Geoffrey were ridiculous. Bever said the worries about divine retribution was just ‘superstitious bullshit’ meant to give Fawkes an excuse to act against Geoffrey. The Count of Lightsbreath had a grudge against Geoffrey, ever since Geoffrey earned command of the Second Legion instead of him”

“How does the future know this happened?” Ichigo asked.

Karl turned back to the console and continued reading.

“One of Athelmarch’s soldiers, Geren of Pinesbroke; scroll down.”

Ichigo did.

“One of Athelmarch’s soldiers,” Karl said, starting again, “Geren of Pinesbroke recorded in his diary how the soldiers of the Second Legion of the Third Crusade ‘would bear neither umbrage nor accusation against the man with whom they broke bread.’”

Karl paused. “Geren…” He smiled faintly. “Who would have thought those diaries of his would have survived for all this time?”

“You knew this Geren?” Ichigo asked.

Karl nodded. “He was with us when we arrived in this era. He…” Karl looked away. “He died instantly.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Was it…?”

Karl shook his head. “No, it wasn’t your fault, nor your master’s.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Karl noticed Dr. Rathpalla was watching the two of them with interest.

Karl continued reading.

“Historian Helen Margrave argues that Geoffrey owed his success as much to the camaraderie he forged with his soldiers as he did to his inborn tactical ingenuity. Because his heritage made him a pariah among his aristocratic contemporaries, Athelmarch had few compunctions toward associating with the rabble. In contrast to the norms of the time, Athelmarch treated his soldiers as his equals, regardless of their status or origin, a remarkably progressive attitude for that day and age.”

Karl swallowed hard and nodded.

He turned to Ichigo and pointed at the console with a claw. “That’s who Count Geoffrey Athelmarch was, Ichigo. He had integrity!”

“Life is not black and white,” Ichigo said. “Scoundrels can be honorable; men of integrity can still do terrible deeds. It doesn’t make them good or evil, it just makes them human. Lord Uramaru taught me that.”

“No,” Karl yelled, “Geoffrey was good! He… he has to be!”

“Why?” Ichigo asked.

Karl stammered. “Because… he…” He smacked his lips, trying to form the words. But then what little confidence Karl felt crumbled and took his composure down with it. He broke down and sobbed.

Ichigo grimaced.

Slipping down the side of the car, Karl flopped onto his tail-body, slunk off toward a support column and wrapped himself around it before sobbing his guts out onto the floor, sending spore-sweetened tears trickling down his scales.

“Alright,” Dr. Rathpalla yelled, “that does it!”

“The doctor is coming,” Ichigo said.

Karl just cried.

Dr. Rathpalla waddled around to the back of the car and the column behind it. “Kid!” he yelled. “Karl!” He looked down through the gap between the car and the structural column. “C’mon, buddy, talk to me!” He clapped his hands. “Talk to me!”

Groaning and gagging, with clenched fists, Karl lifted his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.

It wasn’t just that Geoffrey was the most honorable person Karl had ever known. It wasn’t just that Geoffrey was kind and compassionate, and humble despite his infamy. No.

Suddenly, Karl’s memories took a life of their own as a third of the garage in Karl’s field of view was replaced by a vision of his past. It was as if he was watching players act out his life, only instead of happening on a stage, he experienced the moment of recreated time as if he was living it all over again, seeing it again through his own eyes.

Ichigo rose up off his knees and stared. “What’s this?” he asked.

A view of the city of Lightsbreath beneath a midday sky interrupted the cars and the wall of the garage. The bivouac the Crusaders had set up just outside of the city lay in the background. An ugly smog hung overhead, staining the bright blue skies where it billowed up from all the fires.

Lightsbreath was burning.

“I… I was watching the fires,” Karl said, in the now.

The soldiers had erected a simple defensive palisade around the bivouac using the nearby trees, the stumps of which huddled in the palisade’s shadow. Geoffrey sat on one of the stumps, hunched over in grief, watching as the city burned.

Karl watched as, within the memory, Geoffrey turned to face him.

“Oh… Karl,” Geoffrey said. “What are you doing here?”

“The men are celebrating, sir,” Karl replied. “Bever set up a vat of boiling oil. He’s frying dumplings. They want to give you a toast.”

“No, thank you,” Geoffrey said. He turned back to the city.

The flames were from pyres that had been set up to burn the corpses of the plague’s victims. Most of the fires were concentrated in the Mewnee quarter of the city, an extension the invaders had built to for themselves, alone, from which they could oversee the Trenton-folk. Outbreaks of darkpox were spreading up and down the coast, killing Mewnees left and right as it ravaged the cities and the countryside, leaving the enemy’s forces in disarray.

“It’s like an act of the Angel Himself, sir,” Karl muttered.

Geoffrey glared at him. “You’d call darkpox a miracle?”

Unsure of himself, Karl lowered his head. “People say the sickness is an evil meant to punish us for our sins. But, I think… if it helps drive the Mewnees back, maybe it really could be a miracle.” Looking up, he dared to smile. “As priests like to say, the Angel works in mysterious ways.”

Geoffrey frowned. “Children are burning, Karl. Or were you not aware of it?”

Again, Karl lowered his head. “I… I saw the bodies, sir.”

Memories of those horrors lingered at the edge of the vision, barely visible. Even so, it was more than enough to make Ichigo stare in shock with his arms limp at his sides.

More than anything else, Karl remembered their eyes. All those eyes, searching for a salvation that never came. The eyes of the darkpox victims were so thickly crusted with blood that it seemed as if they’d burned or melted away, only to boil and burst when they met the heat of the purging flames.

“Sear that sight into your mind, Karl,” Geoffrey said. “This is not a miracle, it is the cost of victory.” He looked away. “A miracle would be if the prize is worth the cost.”

Karl had tried to press Geoffrey more on the matter, but the Count refused to elaborate.

“It worries me when you keep your sadness hidden,” he said. “It makes me feel like there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Some pain deserves to be kept hidden,” Geoffrey replied—and he’d kept going on like that. Even as the army of the Third Crusade won victory after victory, it would never be enough to dispel Count Athelmarch’s gloom. At the time, Karl had thought it was simply Geoffrey’s heart aching at the sight of so many dead innocents, as any honorable soul would.

Even if the Mewnees were invaders, Karl imagined you would have to have a heart of coal to be able to look at all the death and call it “good”.

But no, it wasn’t sympathy, was it? It was guilt.

“That’s why he didn’t want to talk about it,” Karl said, in the now. “He’d been too ashamed.”

Karl felt like he was going to be sick. This was devastating; there was no way around it.

“Every life is sacred, Karl,” Geoffrey had told him. “I think man’s greatest folly is that we do not truly appreciate life for what it is until it’s ripped away from us, and from those we love.”

This, from the same man whose plans had caused so much death.

Was all Geoffrey’s wisdom lies?

Karl wanted to be disgusted with the feeling of his chest, arms, and claws rubbing against his back, even though the part of his back they touched was almost two yards after his arms, but he couldn’t. What was losing your humanity compared to losing your sense of right and wrong?

“Oh Fink…” Karl muttered.

He wanted to grab the horse’s bridle and ride into the sunset, far away from all these awful people.

All these liars.

Dr. Howle. Geoffrey.

Liars liars liars.

But I learned from a liar, Karl thought, so I must be a liar, too.

Ichigo leapt off the car and onto the tiled floor. “Please… please don’t start crying again,” he said, sounding genuinely nervous.

“How wonderful…” Karl muttered. “I’m just a baby, aren’t I? Just a helpless little foal.”

Geoffrey really was as bad as everyone said. If Norms were real, then, surely, House Athelmarch’s curse was real, too.

Suddenly, a painful pressure pressed down on the tip of Karl’s tail. It was just enough to hurt, and it was more than enough to shake Karl out of his thoughts, banishing the resurrected memory from view.

Karl yelped. “Ow!” He flexed his tail, crushing the car from the side. Everyone winced at the sound of the crumpling metal.

Karl felt worse than ever before.

Looking to the left, he saw Dr. Rathpalla curl around the back of the car.

“Did you…?”

Dr. Rathpalla nodded.

“Why?” Karl moaned. “Wh-what was that for?”

“For being evasive,” the psychiatrist replied.

“What do you want from me?!” Karl yelled, pressing his back against the windows on the car’s side. “Haven’t I lost enough already?”

“I want you to talk to me about what happened,” Dr. Rathpalla said. “You were opening up before, but now—”

“—I don’t want to talk about it. I—”

Karl could hear his father yelling at him: “You damn fool! You know nothing!”

The word echoed in his mind: nothing, nothing, nothing…

His father’s cruel words often cropped up in his mind, but ever since turning into a Norm, Karl heard them as if the man himself was standing right next to him, yelling into his ears.

Karl had thought he’d hit rock bottom, but it turned out there was still plenty further left to fall. His anger evaporated, leaving him lost and despairing.

“Father was right,” he said, “I am a fool…”

“I mean, that’s not the best place to start,” Dr. Rathpalla said, “but, if that’s what’s bothering you, I suppose we can start there.”

The car groaned as Dr. Rathpalla settled down against it. He took care to mind his tail as he sat down on Karl’s.

“Nothing’s ‘bothering’ me, doctor,” Karl said. “My father was right, that’s all.” He gasped. “All my life, I wanted to believe he was wrong. All these times I’ve gotten so close to giving up and accepting his cruel judgments. But I kept finding hope. First with nature, then with Fink. Then with Geoffrey. Then… even with Dr. Howle. I wanted to think that if people could be strong and good like that, then maybe there was hope for me yet. Maybe I could be like that, too. But no, everything is houses built on sand. Look at me!” Karl said, pointing at himself. “I was worried when Geoffrey kept his pain to himself, and now I’m doing the same thing! That’s how much of a fool I am. I keep believing in liars, and I’m too much of a dunce to know any better.”

He cried.

Ichigo palmed his face and groaned. “This is painful.”

The oni walked off behind the nearby structural column.

“I wish the others were here,” Karl said. “I wish Fink was here. I wish Bever was here. I wish—“

“—You damn fool!” his father’s voice said. “You know nothing!”

“My father was right!” Karl said. “I know nothing! I’m just a wishing fool! Wishes don’t do anything.”

He lowered his head in shame. “Wish in one hand, shit in the other; see which one fills up first,” he said, quoting his father once more.

That disturbed even Dr. Rathpalla.

“Karl—”

“—No, I’m too old to believe in fairy tales!” Karl said. “I should have known better, just like I should have known better than to expect people to be good! But I keep doing it. I keep doing it!” He looked Dr. Rathpalla in the eyes. “Tell me, Dr. Rathpalla, can you fix that?” He looked away and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think s—”

“—Kar… Karl? Kid, what… what happened to you?”

Karl jerked his head up and stared straight ahead.

There, right beside the tiled column, stood Sir Bever the Brave. The axeman was clad in full armor, with a look of terrified concern written loudly all over his face.