our cause during the fight for Sky’s Edge?” he asked quietly. “Have I not done as you wished all this time? Have I not exceeded your expectations over and over again? How about Yerin?”
“I know your worth better than you do. It is precisely because of that—”
Lindon cut her off. “Apologies, but I wasn’t finished.”
If he was going to use his value, he may as well act like it.
Though his heart hammered, and he could feel Charity’s will focusing on him.
It felt strange, like her intentions were pressing down on him from the outside. She was frustrated, and she wanted to force him to see things from her perspective, but knew she couldn’t.
Before he lost his nerve, he continued. “All of that, I’ve done to spare my family from this fate. I desperately want your support, but if I don’t have it, we will fly there ourselves, no matter how long it takes. If we must, we will walk.”
It felt wrong to speak for Yerin, but she stood at his side and nodded along.
A voice echoed from the floor below. “We won’t make it if we walk!” Eithan shouted up.
“So we won’t walk,” Lindon allowed. “We can find other transportation if we must.”
“It won’t be as fast!” Eithan called again.
Lindon spread his hands. “Which is why I would like your help.” And, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “…and I apologize for interrupting you.”
He was hoping that his resolve would make an impression on the Heart Sage, but her face was still placid. She did, however, let out a long breath.
“Lindon. Yerin. I will do anything in my power to keep you as allies. So instead of forcing you, I will beg you.”
To Lindon’s surprise and discomfort, Charity bowed deeply at the waist.
“Please, do not go yourselves. There is too much that may go wrong, and humanity will be worse off for your deaths. Please stay here.”
Even Yerin shifted uncomfortably, and she flicked a glance up at Lindon to gauge his reaction.
At that moment, the script-circle on a panel to Lindon’s right lit up with a new figure made of light. Mercy was running up to their front door, waving a black-clad hand.
“Can you hear me? Open up!”
Lindon triggered the door without thought, and Mercy’s projection beamed as she ran through. “Thank you!” she called.
Charity straightened from her bow, folding her hands in front of her and waiting as though she had expected Mercy to arrive with exactly that timing.
When Mercy reached the top floor and joined them in person, she spoke immediately. “Don’t hurt them, Aunt Charity!”
Mercy’s appearance was sloppier than usual. Her hair had been tied back unevenly, with strands escaping here and there, and her black-and-white robes were rumpled and loosely tied. There were unexplained smudges on her face, and Lindon wondered if she’d had a chance to rest.
Overlords didn’t need much sleep, but they’d all had an exhausting few days.
Charity’s eyebrows tightened. “What makes you think I was going to hurt them?”
Lindon absolutely thought Charity would use violence to make them listen, but he didn’t say so.
Mercy ground her staff and raised her chin, as confident as if she were giving an order. “They’ve earned the right to go where they want.”
Maybe she was delivering an order, though Charity still outranked Mercy in their family hierarchy.
The Sage was unmoved. “Even if we ignore the Dreadgod, there are other threats. If an enemy Monarch or Sage finds them, they will be slaughtered.”
“Then aren’t they going to the safest possible place?”
“Not from the Wandering Titan.”
Yerin waved one crimson-tinted sword-arm. “Malice owes me a prize.”
“The Monarchs collectively do,” Charity pointed out. “Our clan owes you a debt of gratitude that we will gladly repay, but it is poor compensation to send you into certain death.”
“Then help us,” Lindon said. “You said we could organize something to evacuate Sacred Valley without us going in person. Why don’t we do both?”
He had pushed her for help before, but now he felt he had an opening. “It can only be faster than going alone. And safer.”
Charity looked to Mercy, who eagerly nodded. The Sage searched the faces of Lindon and Yerin, and then she closed her eyes.
Lindon couldn’t tell if she was communing with her Monarch, looking through her own memories, or even gazing into the future, but he sensed nothing.
After a few breaths, she opened her eyes.
“I can only mobilize perhaps two dozen passenger cloudships,” she said. “They have a maximum capacity of six thousand apiece, so depending on the size