Vivica was sitting beside his bed when Jeremiah woke up. His window was pale with predawn light. He blinked to dispel the obvious dream, but instead the dream grinned and asked, "How you doin`, Thorn?"

　　Jeremiah`s heart thudded in his chest. Had he slept through an attack? Was a grisly scene awaiting him downstairs? Vivica held no weapons. She was wearing a simple dun hooded tunic. Where were his weapons? Did he have any? He struggled to remember. He could splash her with acid, or maybe he could scream and roll between the bed and the wall, and then—

　　"Relax. I`m not here to hurt you."

　　Jeremiah considered that. She could have ended him while he slept, but he was still alive. Adrenaline still burned in his veins, but he decided to believe her.

　　"Is this your familiar?" She stroked Gus in his water bowl. "He`s cute." Gus wiggled with approval.

　　"Traitorous toad," Jeremiah said. He saw the glimmer of her gorget peaking up around the collar of her tunic as she leaned over Gus. Could he throttle her? If he could stop her from speaking, maybe he could prevent her from healing herself, call for Allison, end this war in one fell swoop.

　　Her eyes flicked back to him. "Go ahead."

　　"What?"

　　She pulled a knife from her boot and handed it to him. "Go on, if it`ll satisfy your ambitions." She unclasped the gorget and presented her naked throat.

　　He raised the knife to her neck, anticipating she would leap into action to break his hand, but she didn`t move. He pressed the point to where he knew an artery lay but he couldn`t bring himself to push. "I can`t. I`ve never&"

　　She raised an eyebrow. "You`ve never&?"

　　"Killed someone."

　　She broke into a tinkling laugh of genuine amusement. "You`re joking, you must be. I have it on very good authority that you have killed a lot of people!"

　　"Well, I have. But not like, with my own hands."

　　She squinted at him. "Thorn, you`ve got a weird sense of accountability. But I`ll spoil the surprise for you. You`re not going to kill me."

　　He bit his lip, then pushed the knife into her neck and, remembering a conversation with Bruno, twisted it. The blade turned in her flesh without spilling so much as a drop of blood. It was as though he had sunk the blade into soft clay. She didn`t even flinch, just looked on with amusement. Jeremiah pulled the knife out. The steel was slick with blood, but the spot he had stabbed was unmarred.

　　"Now no one can say you didn`t try." She took the knife and wiped it clean on his bed sheet.

　　"Why are you here?" Jeremiah asked. "How did you find me?"

　　"Those glyphs on your hands aren`t just for show," she said. He waited for her to answer his other question. She toyed with her knife, the blade glinting as she twirled it and danced it across her knuckles, seemingly lost in thought. "You told me people want to do the right thing," she said finally. "But here you are on the opposite side of what I believe is right. You`re fighting to uphold a corrupt regime, one that has long profited off of those it should serve, including yourself. Yet you believe you`re fighting for good."

　　"One of us must be wrong," Jeremiah concluded for her.

　　"Must be. Which one?" She inched a little closer, like she was eager for him to reveal the secret.

　　"I guess I can`t say for sure. I only know what I believe, same as you."

　　Vivica looked surprised. Jeremiah supposed she had expected him to try and convince her. Instead he asked, "What exactly are you planning to do here? If you win, that is."

　　Vivica smiled and passed her flat hand through the air, slow and even. "I`m going to knock down every tower taller than the smallest hovel. The people of this city need me. They need someone to free them from the cycle of poverty and violence, fettered by desperation to the greed of heartless men."

　　"You`re going to kill a lot of those people in order to free them."

　　"No, I`m not. You`ve seen what I can do. I recognize that some will likely perish, but my quarrel isn`t with Dramir`s slaves. The wealthy, on the other hand, those in love with the city as it is&some of them will need to die."

　　"Say they die. Then what? You crown yourself queen and throw coins to the poor?"

　　Vivica looked stung by the venom in his words. "I have no idea what comes next."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

　　"You don`t&have a plan?" Now he wondered whether she was just insane.

　　"It`s not up to me. I can`t build the new Dramir, that`s for greater minds than mine. I can only tear down the old one."

　　"Isn`t that just anarchy?"

　　"Only in the beginning. From chaos rises order, an opportunity for a new world. But unlike other revolutions, I have the power to make it as painless as possible for those who need it most. That`s why they follow me for the chance at a new world. One life to give is a steep price, but my people can die over and over in pursuit of our dream."

　　A thought occurred to Jeremiah. "What`d you promise the giants? They can`t have a serious interest in this new world."

　　"Heh. Clever boy. No, they`re strictly mercenary. The power I provide keeps them safe from predators."

　　"Predators? Predators of giants?" Jeremiah shuddered.

　　"Those mountains are older than you think, and ancient things walk between those peaks." She looked away from him, focused on the middle distance of memory.

　　Neither spoke for a moment. Then Jeremiah asked, "Why can`t we fix the system we have? You`ve got their attention, you have leverage, you can make demands! Why not create change without the destruction and bloodshed?"

　　Vivica sighed and pet Gus again, scratching the space between his bulging eyes. He leaned into her affections. "I was born Viviana Aliwyn. The archives of this city go back further than anyone`s memory. Follow my name and maybe then you`ll understand."

　　She made to rise, but Jeremiah grabbed her wrist. The scars on his hands tingled when his skin touched hers. "Vivica, stay. We can work together, change things for the better without anyone having to die. I hear what you`re saying, I know the system is broken, but—"

　　"Then come with me. It`s not too late."

　　"Stay with me! We can figure it out together." He squeezed her hand.

　　Vivica leaned forward and put her forehead against his. Jeremiah was suddenly back in the prison with a fleeting worry, or was it hope, that she was going to kiss him. "You make a tempting offer, Jeremiah Thorn. You really do. But power corrupts and I won`t let them get to you."

　　Jeremiah woke up again, this time sprawled on top of the bed. His jaw throbbed and his head rang. Vivica was gone. A morning breeze came through his window. He threw on his robes and made his way downstairs, where the rest of his party was sitting around a table eating ham and eggs on bread. Allison gave him a beaming smile, Bruno and Delilah were eyeing him suspiciously.

　　"Good morning, Jay!" Allison greeted him without turning her attention from the skillet. "There`s plenty to go around, including for any guests."

　　"Yeah, tell the little harlot she can join us," said Delilah, poking at her eggs. Allison hushed her.

　　"But we are gonna have a talk about how you got a girl into this house without me knowing about it." There wasn`t an ounce of humor in Bruno`s voice.

　　"It was Vivica," said Jeremiah, rubbing his bruised jaw. "She snuck into my room and—"

　　Bruno was out of his seat and up the stairs in a flash. The front door banged open and Allison was gone, Delilah on her heels. Jeremiah sat alone in the kitchen as a plate spun on the floor.

　　Jeremiah made his way to the center of the city, taking a long and meandering route. The conversation with Vivica kept playing in his head. Was she right? Did Dramir need to be destroyed to make way for a new, undefined society? Was the potential for thousands to have a better life worth the devastation? Or was Vivica naive to offer no solutions alongside the violence, no guarantee that something better would rise from the ashes?

　　With fresh eyes, he took in the great buildings of the city, the gentry that walked the street, the solemn stone banks that kept his own riches safe. He passed beggar children pleading for mercies, men in alleys hatching conspiracies, and brutes that glowered down at passersby. Countless guardsmen marched new conscripts in formations, the recruits clad in armor that would buckle against dinner cutlery, much less a true blade. They marched to preserve the darkness that festered within the city walls.

　　But he also saw a robed official reprimand a food merchant for price gouging during the siege. A group of soldiers carried an injured civilian to a healer. Guards oversaw the distribution of emergency stores of grain to the poorest and most vulnerable.

　　Vivica was right, but she was also wrong. The city wasn`t without its cruelties, but neither was it a hopeless pit of slaves and despots.

　　He reached the palace. A cadre of guards patrolled the perimeter, watchful for violence or unrest. Jeremiah had planned what he would say to gain access to the palace, but as he approached the guards parted and waved him through. He entered the lofty halls and found the staff just as helpful in guiding him to his destination.

　　He entered the lofty halls of the palace where a footman asked his destination.

　　"I`m here to see Colonel Valen, do you know where he is?"

　　"Right this way, Mr. Thorn." Jeremiah started at the use of his name, then followed the footman.

　　Colonel Valen`s office was a gallery of bueracracy. Papers, forms, and missives of every conceivable type crept toward the ceiling in balanced piles on any surface flat enough to hold them. Colonel Valen was scribbling furiously, cross referencing with lightning speed between countless papers.

　　"Can I help you, Mr. Thorn?"

　　"I need to know how to find information on a specific person from a long time ago. A city resident."

　　"If this isn`t in some way related to the current siege, I`ll have to ask you to leave."

　　"It is. How are things going? Is there a plan yet?"

　　"Not that it`s any of your concern, but we intend to run out the clock. She`s got an uphill battle ahead of her and we`re spending what time we have to turn that hill into a mountain. The addition of a necromancer would go a great distance towards making that happen, if I can persuade you." Colonel Valen didn`t even look at him to pitch the halfhearted request.

　　"Sorry, Colonel Valen, but no. I`m done with necromancy. Where can I find that information?"

　　"Well, at least that`s one less necromancer in the world. Go to the archives in the basement. One of the creeps down there can help you."

　　"Thank you, Colonel." Jeremiah turned to leave, then paused. "Colonel, what are you doing exactly? All this paperwork, is it related to the siege?"

　　"This," Colonel Valen patted a stack of papers, "is war, Mr. Thorn. You`re a civilian, you think of war as marching troops and battle lines. But this mess is the lifeblood at the heart of war. This tells the troops where to march, when to march, in what numbers, with what equipment, and how supplied."

　　The banality of it struck Jeremiah as odd. Sheets of paper that determined the fates of men.

　　"Here I was thinking it was all tactics and strategy."

　　"Tactics are for amateurs Mr. Thorn, logistics are for professionals. Now if there`s nothing else&"

　　Jeremiah took his leave, happy if he would never see Colonel Valen again.