Sam

"Who's that over there?"

Sam blinked awake from another unintentional—but not unpleasant—nap, and looked around to see what Will was referring to. She soon spotted it. "Oh. That's Dawn. Seems like she's got two of Buck's rangers from up north with her too."

"Mmm."

Will straightened himself out with a low grunt, set his feet down on the edge of the gravel path. "So she made it, then. Good for her."

"Yeah, uh, sort of."

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "Not so pretty?"

"You could say that."

If Will had been reduced to a husk of a person, then Brimstone's widow had only fared a baby step better. Shuffling about at the far end of the garden, she was bandaged up head-to-toe like a mummy, what little slivers of skin showed through standing out livid and red. Missing several fingers and toes, she moved at an awkward zombie shamble, wincing every other step. Despite the season, most of her was hidden under a heavy cloak, hood drawn so only part of her featureless, cloth-wrapped face showed. A pair of Buck's bandits-turned-bodyguards in their thrown-back green cloaks followed at a respectful distance, bows on their backs, their belts bristling with blades of various descriptions.

Will seemed to focus on her more closely, then slowly shook his head. "Shit." After a brief pause, he added: "I didn't do all that, by the way."

"I see." Sam replied. She'd been a little afraid to ask.

"I tried to… keep the damage superficial. Make it look worse than it was. I guess she must have had it pretty rough while I was out of the picture. Or maybe she didn't receive proper medical attention between torture sessions, and her wounds were allowed to fester."

"That's awful."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Sam rubbed at the nape of his neck. "It's not your fault."

Will turned to her and smiled sadly. "Not all of it. But enough."

She wished she knew how to make him feel better, but nothing came to her. In the end, he was the one who changed the subject when he said: "Since we're here in the keep, I'm guessing that means Buck was able to seize control of the militia?"

"Yeah," Sam replied.

"Any trouble?"

"Not really. He marched up there and had some people throw Brimstone's corpse over the wall. That was enough to get them to open up and swear their loyalty to him pretty quick."

"What about the militia commander, Thorpe? Something must have been done about him."

"Hmm… I kind of remember people talking about someone like that. I think he took the ones who were loyal to him and skipped town. Something like he sent swimmers out to hijack a few ships floating off the harbor and brought them in to load up his people, then took off while everyone else was busy with Brimstone."

"So that whole play about luring Brimstone to us was just to cover his ass on the way out, huh? Interesting."

Sam shrugged. "If you say so."

"There was no fighting over the military quarter?"

"Aside from a few drunken brawls between fighters from one side or the other forced to live side by side, not really."

Will nodded with grim satisfaction. "Good. That's very good. And the replacements?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who has Buck put in charge of the militia? Not one of his own people, I hope."

"Um, I don't think so? There's this woman named Jawara, I think she's some kind of new captain person. She seems nice enough."

"The new captain of the Sheerhome garrison, I'm guessing. What about Griff, then? That used to be his job."

"I have no idea who that is," Sam said dully.

"You've really been keeping your finger on the pulse, haven't you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry that I've been a bit busy doting on my dying boyfriend to learn the names of every single person running in and out of this anthill."

"Apology accepted. I'll just have to pick up the rest from someone slightly less uninformed."

She stuck her tongue out. He flipped her off. She graciously resisted the urge to grab his hand and shove the offending finger up his nose.

In the distance, Dawn was still moving sluggishly between flowers and bushes, occasionally reaching out of her tan cloak to caress one plant or another with a bandaged hand. She was completely silent, not a word passing between her and the rangers assigned to her.

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The garden got a whole lot louder when a man—Lord Buck, as it turned out—came out of the keep at an energetic jog, boots clapping on the patio, and leapt the railing with a huge laugh rather than take the stairs. He cleared some tall bushes as he tucked into a tight front flip and landed with his arms spread, heels together, as if waiting for applause even though there was hardly anyone there for him to impress. Having leveled up from his deadly dance battle with Brimstone, he was now at Level 20.

"My lady!" he said as he sauntered across the garden, weaving between rows of waist-high hedges. "I had a feeling I'd find you here. I'm sorry I didn't come see you sooner, but there were all sorts of people asking me to sign all kinds of papers and make all kinds of proclamations and bla dee bla bla."

Dawn watched him approach, ruined hands folded before her, cloak tossing in the wind. Once he got close, she offered a stiff bow. "My lord."

"You need to stop calling me that, silly girl!" he laughed, and halted so close they were almost touching. She stared into his mostly naked chest, his torso covered only by an open jacket hanging lazily off his shoulders. "I'm a sucker for roleplay, it's true, but it's not fun if I'm actually a lord. How about you treat me like a poor dirt farmer instead?" He affected a shaky, aged voice. "Oh, I'm ever so sorry m'lady, but me taters y'see, they're awful blighted and all, so I cannot pay the tithe whatever. I suppose ye must punish me now." He threw his head back, his arms wide. "I am ready! I will take my lashings like a faithful serf ought!"

Dawn stood silent. Sam wasn't sure if she could make out a tiny smile past the hood. "Stop it," she said quietly, and looked down at her feet. "You shouldn't degrade yourself like that. There are people who look up to you."

"Ahhh, I failed." Buck sighed deeply and let his arms drop. He looked toward the former bandits, now reinforced by another four of their comrades to make a full squad of six. "What must a fella do to get whipped around here, eh?"

A few of the rangers snorted. One said he'd be happy to lend a hand. Sam wasn't sure if that was meant as friendly ribbing or sexual proposition. Based on the way Buck ignored the comment entirely, maybe the latter.

"Let me see your face," he said, and took hold of the corners of her hood. She gasped and reflexively reached up to stop him, then hesitated, let him proceed. He pulled her hood back to reveal the bald head beneath wrapped in its blood-stained gauze, with only small gaps for the eyes, nostrils, and mouth.

The lord grinned wide. "You look fantastic as always, my lady. It's almost evening, but I'm finally seeing the sun for the first time today."

"Don't mock me," Dawn shot back, chin to her chest.

She began to pull away, but he took her very gently by the elbows to keep her in place. She allowed herself to be held. "Mocking you is the last thing I'd do. I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it before you feel ready to believe me. You are beautiful."

"I'm monstrous. You really shouldn't be seen with me, my lord. It will harm your reputation."

Buck gave a delighted laugh. "My reputation! That's a good one. Very good."

He pulled her just a hair closer, and she put her butchered hands up to his chest, bracing herself from him.

"You have shown such divine resolve, my lady. It shines from you so strongly, and lends you a beauty unlike any I have ever seen." He let up his hold a little, let her take half a step back. "If my attention is a nuisance to you, then I will certainly leave you in peace. Believe me, I know what it's like to feel ugly, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. But hiding from people doesn't protect you from their scorn. You'll still hear them inside your head. And the monsters we make up ourselves are always the strongest, because they know exactly where we are weak."

Buck grinned wider, a perfectly curled tawny lock falling over his face. "So if you're gonna have a bitch of a time anyway, why not accept some good with the bad, too?" Very very softly, he thumbed her bandaged chin. "What do you think of that, Dawn?"

She remained stiff and silent, her six remaining fingers twitching on Buck's chest. Then, with unexpected force, she threw herself against him. Cloak falling to the ground at her feet, she wrapped her arms around him, grabbed the back of his jacket, pressed herself desperately tight to his chest. She had moved with such reckless energy that growing red spots were soaking through her bandaging in various places where she had torn the skin beneath. She didn't seem to notice.

Buck held her and stroked her scalp with his knuckles and murmured in her ear, too softly to be heard. Dawn began crying. Soon she was bawling, almost screaming with the urgency of her racking sobs, whole body shuddering. They were like that for a long time.

"I'm sensing some sparks," Will spoke softly.

"You can say that again," Sam muttered. "To be honest, I'm still not quite sure what to make of him. He's so in love with himself it's kind of scary, and he seems to think that he's the main character in some kind of theater melodrama. Now that he's the lord, people are telling all kinds of boasts about him. He received a prophecy from one of Era's angels that he had fourteen days to save us all from Brimstone. He ran from Greensby to Sheerhome in an hour and wasn't even winded when he arrived. He fought for a full day against Brimstone's loyal soldiers to protect the people inside the Academy. He killed Brimstone on his own without taking a single wound. Nonsense like that."

Will chuckled. "You'd better start getting used to it. Shit rolls downhill, while credit always seems to find its way to the top. Let people tell their stories."

"I get that—I just don't like how the truth has already been twisted so much. The worst part is that it seems like people have already forgotten what you did for them, even though you suffered so much—and nearly died—to protect them." She shook her head firmly. "No matter how inevitable you think it is, you can't expect me to ever feel okay about that."

"It's not like I did it so people would tell me what a good boy I am."

"That doesn't mean it's fine for some self-important asshole to rewrite history into his own masturbatory aid."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't 'yeah, yeah' me!

"Yeah, yeah."

"Shut up! Annoying!" She sighed, and looked out at Buck and Dawn still glued together and speaking softly. "Anyway, he acts like a complete bimbo most of the time, but then he goes and does stuff like this, too. He was talking the whole way to Sheerhome about snagging a princess, and I assumed he'd give up on her the minute he learned what she'd been through. Instead he acts like a gentleman. I hear he's even stopped having sex so he can spend more time with her, which seems to be… not a regular occurrence."

"Interesting," Will said, plucking pensively at his fingers.

"And it's only because of his say-so that you were allocated all those doctors to do surgery on you. I don't think you would have made it if not for that."

Will yawned, a hand to his mouth. "Sounds like I've got some scraping and bowing to do, then." He slowly let his hand drop. "Ah. Looks like I'm getting my chance straight away."

Sam looked up and found that Buck was coming toward them at a sedate pace, Dawn latched onto his arm like a little girl clinging to her big brother. His guards fanned out, ambling about the garden in ones and twos and trying to look casual.

The lord came to an exaggeratedly stiff halt on the other side of the gravel path, maybe ten feet away, and cracked a bright grin while letting his floppy hand rest on the hilt of the saber stuck through his bright sash.

"Hey there, One-Eye," he said.

"Hey there, Lord Buck," Will replied with a reserved smile of his own.

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