knew. But as it turned out, it wasn't much they didn't already know. Angrääl didn't seem to hold the faithful in high regard; relegating them to petty espionage and assassinations. They received most of their orders from agents traveling up and down the Goodbranch River, and sent reports of their progress the same way. Their orders were to take control of Sharpstone, and find any information on Lee Starfinder and Gewey Stedding. The king had been resisting their effort to place an ambassador in his court, but had been more than willing to accept their gold. Devon said that if the king didn't relent soon, it was likely he would be killed. When exactly this would happen, he didn't know. But he knew they had people in place in Helenia.
Once Millet was satisfied, he called for Barty and Randson. They paused at the sight of the bloody corpse of Sherone. Randson smiled and nodded, approvingly.
“I see you let the fat one live,” said Barty.
Millet looked down at Devon. “Load his friend's body in the wagon.” He reach in his pocket, and handed Barty a small bag of gold. “Take this, and Lord Devon, away from Sharpstone. Make certain he has a shovel to dig a grave, and give him the gold when he's done. It should be enough to take him wherever he wants to go.”
“And where is that?” asked Barty.
Millet leaned down and cut Devon's bonds. “That's up to him. But I daresay, he should reconsider a return to Baltria.” A sinister grin crept on his face. “Though his father may welcome him, I doubt the rest of the faithful will be as...understanding of his failure.” He shrugged. “The choice is his. I care not.”
Barty and Randson lifted the body and carried it away. Devon followed close behind. When they had gone, Millet sat in a chair near the fireplace and bowed his head in thought.
Dina sat across from him and leaned forward. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Millet looked up and smiled weakly. “I will be.” He looked over at where Sherone's blood still stained the floor. “During my travels with Lee, I've been forced to kill. But never like this. I've never murdered a helpless man.”
Dina reached out and placed her hand on Millet's knee. “You did what had to be done.”
Millet nodded. “I know. But I didn't want this.” He looked around the room; the walls were decorated with a lifetime of adventures. “Any of it. I was never meant to be a lord.”
“I don't know,” said Dina. “It seems to me that you are a very good lord. To do things against your own character in order to protect those you love is a very noble thing. It's what a lord should be.”
Millet rose to his feet and looked at Dina. His face was filled with contempt. Not for her, but for himself. “And I may never forgive myself for it.” Then he whispered, “Or Lee, either.” He took out the blade that had ended the life of Sherone and stared at it. “Once I poisoned a man who was conspiring to kill a sword-master Lee was studying under in Dantory. I watched him writhe and twist on the floor, until the life left his body. This was a thousand times worse.”
“Do you regret your actions?” asked Dina.
“My heart does. But my mind tells me that it was foolish to even let Devon live.” He put the knife away. “I'm an old man, Dina. I've traveled far, and seen many things. But until now, I've always had the luxury of viewing from the outside.” He knelt in front of the blood stain on the floor. “Now, I'm in the midst of it. Now, it is me who needs to hear the voice of reason. I was that voice for Lee Starfinder. Who will be that voice for me?”
Dina stood beside him. “Let me be that voice.” She gently lifted him to his feet. “Though I doubt I am as wise as you.”
“Before I was made Lord of the Nal'Thain family, that was possibly true.” He turned to her and shook his head. “Now I am as Lee once was. The responsibility rests with me, and that responsibility can drive away the person you are, in favor of the person you need to be.” He took a long, deep breath. “And I know this is only the beginning. More blood is to come.”
“True,” said Dina. “But for now we need to wash this blood away.” She