Standing atop a heap of debris was a man. Keiser wasn't sure if he had actually come to help, or at least, that's what he hoped.
'The third help.'
He couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if his younger self had seen Aisha as he saw her now.
In hindsight, without the knowledge of the betrayal to come, he might have chosen to listen to her, over a stranger, or even over himself.
In that case, this man wouldn't have been an ally at all, but a third adversary in their struggle against fate itself.
But he was still alive.
The elf hadn't mentioned Lenko's death, which meant, at the very least, Muzio's vassal was still breathing.
That much was something. A small reassurance that, for now, one more thread in their tangled web had not yet snapped.
But the man standing atop the rubble, he carried the same steady stance, the same cold, unwavering gaze, the same familiar defiance etched into every line of his face.
