Kael drained the last threads of life from the fallen raiders, then stripped their gear for resale. One wagon-load could fetch a small fortune; many mercenaries turned bandit for that reason—it was safer to rob the living than to hunt beasts.
When the heap of armor and weapons lay tied down, Leon peered at the corpses of the dead hire-swords.
"Do we leave them?" the gnome asked quietly.
Kael remembered Garland's request to retrieve plates from the first failed Mawbear hunt. Perhaps Garland meant any corrupt badge, even Miles's."We'll burn the bodies," he decided. "Badges and steel go to the Guild. Families deserve word—even if the men don't."
Leon nodded. Together, they stacked wood, laid out the fallen, and lit the pyre. Flames roared, and black smoke climbed into the pines.
Is all this still considered 'mission complete'? Leon wondered aloud as they loaded the wagon again. Kael only shrugged.
Hours late, the cart rolled under cold stars. Neither spoke until the gnome blurted, "We could sell Miles's loot on the shadow market. I… have friends."
"You want a broker's cut."
Leon's ears flushed. "Ten percent?"
"Done."
The gnome beamed, and a dream flickered in his eyes. He spoke of building a school like the one that once stood in the old empire—open to every child, enslaved person, or free person.
"It's a good dream," Kael said, surprising them both.
Leon blinked. "You think so?"
Kael asked the gnome to teach him letters in return. Leon straightened as if knighted on the spot."I'll do my best!"
They urged the horses through the night, resting only when the animals quivered with fatigue. Dawn of the second day revealed Iron's walls blazing gold across the plains. Shanties huddled outside the gate; ragged children skittered forward, then froze at the sight of black armor.
They hesitated, remembering the food he had shared before. Kael rummaged through Miles's overstock—salted meat, hard cheese—and passed it out until his pack lay empty. The children scampered off with shy bows.
Leon stared. "They could've said thank you."
"They're at the age of awkward pride," Kael told him, as if quoting an old proverb.
The guards waved the wagon through after a cursory look at Maria's shrouded body. They rumbled south into the Sixth District, where the grand Cathedral of Light soared behind marble pillars.
Kael lifted the priestess in his arms. Consecrated water had kept her lovely even in death; she seemed merely asleep. He climbed the wide steps. Soldiers in white cloaks noticed and bristled.
"That abomination dares set foot on sacred ground!"
Spears leveled. Holy anger pricked Kael's senses, but he held his ground."The treaty between Dusk and Dawn states you cannot bar me," he said calmly, "and I carry one of your own."
"Silence, wretch!" The lead guard spat. "Only the living may claim sanctuary!"
Kael's eyes chilled behind the visor. "Call me undead again and test that rule."
Tension crackled—until hurried footsteps sounded. Lira, her platinum hair flying, dashed between spearpoints.
"I told you not to make trouble!" she hissed, then turned to the soldiers. "Lower your weapons. He's under my pledge."
An aged cleric beside her frowned. "This is the heretic you vouched for?"
"I… yes."
"Then any sin he commits, we name yours."
Color drained from Lira's cheeks, but she bowed.
The old cleric studied Maria's form and softened. "Escort him to the Great Hall," he ordered. "And fetch Father Pale."
The spears parted. Kael stepped into the cathedral, flanked by Lira. Stained-glass suns poured jewel light across the domed chamber.
He laid Maria beneath the hovering silver ring that symbolized the creed. For once, even the Light-born fell silent.
The Dread Sentinel spoke:"These are her final words: Thank you all…"
Soft sobs rose from acolytes. Some touched their badges; others knelt in prayer.
Kael turned to leave, but warm radiance brushed his helm and a voice like morning whispered, Thank you.
He paused—whether it came from the ring above or some higher reach of Light, he could not tell. For a heartbeat, the chill inside his iron shell thawed.
Lira returned with a tall priest whose eyes reddened at the sight of Maria. She delivered Kael's message; Pale whispered gratitude too hoarse to carry.
Formalities concluded, Kael handed over Miles's bronze plate and the iron tokens of the lesser traitors. "Proof of their crimes," he said. "Garland will confirm."
The elder cleric accepted them grimly. "Justice will be weighed. As for you… depart in peace before tempers shift."
Kael inclined his head. Outside, Leon waited on the wagon, nerves stretched taut. Relief washed over him as the black figure emerged unharmed.
They rolled toward the Guild, sunlight flashing off salvaged steel. Behind them, bells tolled for a sister of the Light, and somewhere in that music Kael felt—not remorse, but the faint memory of what remorse had once been.