"Innocence is a word we use to soothe ourselves after the killing's done. In war, there are only those who live and those who don't.
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"What if you're wrong? What if this person is truly innocent?"
The wanderer laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, only bitter exhaustion and the weight of too many hard choices. "Innocent? Boy, I've served as one of the king's blessed for nineteen years. I've killed more 'innocent' people than you've met in your entire life. Farmers who happened to support the wrong pretender to the throne. Merchants who traded with rebels. Children who might have grown up to challenge royal authority."
He stood slowly, favoring his injured ribs, and turned to face them both fully. In the pale morning light, the scars on his face seemed deeper, more pronounced, a map of violence and sacrifice carved into flesh.
"Innocence is a luxury kingdoms can't afford," he continued. "Every choice I've made, every life I've taken, was justified by the greater good. The stability of the realm, the safety of millions, the divine right of kings, these things matter more than individual conscience or the luxury of moral purity."
"I won't let you murder our people," Kael said, the words coming out stronger than he felt. "They've suffered enough under the families rule. They don't deserve to die for the paranoia of distant kings."
"Your people?" The wanderer's eyes hardened. "Yesterday, you were a farmer's son dreaming of glory. Today, you fancy yourself a revolutionary leader. Tomorrow you might discover you're the chosen one yourself, marked for a destiny you never asked for."
"At least I'm trying to protect them."
"From what? You can't protect anyone from this." The wanderer moved toward the window, each step measured and careful. "Look out there. Really look. Do you see soldiers ready for battle? I see frightened civilians playing with weapons they barely understand, led by a boy who freezes when real violence arrives."
Kael joined him at the window, his stomach clenching at the sight of his makeshift army. They looked so young, so eager, so utterly unprepared for what was coming. Tomak the baker's apprentice, held a rusty sword that was probably older than he was. Mira the seamstress, clutched a kitchen knife like it might transform into something more martial through sheer force of will.
"Tarkun's men are already moving against the Dabru," the wanderer continued. "I could hear the war horns when I woke. Your 'army' of shopkeepers will be slaughtered in their first real battle. And while you play at being a hero, while these good people die for your revolutionary ideals, Eloriun draws closer to his goal."
"Then help us," Nisheena interjected. "You're sworn to protect the king, aren't you? If preventing this assassination serves that oath—"
"My oath is already broken." The wanderer's voice was flat, emotionless. "I ran from battle once. Left good men—better men than I'll ever be—to die while I saved my own worthless hide. The blessing doesn't forgive cowardice, and neither do the gods."
"But you're still here," Kael said quietly. "Still fighting, still trying to complete your mission. That has to count for something."
"Does it?" The wanderer turned back to them, and for a moment his hard mask slipped, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath. "Every night I see their faces—my brothers in arms, men who trusted me to lead them to victory. Instead, I led them to slaughter and then ran like a coward when the battle turned against us."
He moved back to the bar, his movements stiff with more than just physical pain. "Atonement doesn't resurrect the dead, boy. Remember that when your grand rebellion gets more of your friends killed."
"So what would you have us do?" Kael demanded. "Submit to the families? Let them grind us under their boots while you hunt shadows and innocent people?"
"I'd have you survive." The wanderer's voice was sharp now, cutting. "This town is caught between forces it can't comprehend, let alone defeat. Tarkun has made his bargain with the Enki—did you think those new weapons his men carry were forged by mortal smiths? And the Dabru have their own secrets, their own sources of unnatural power."
"What kind of secrets?" Nisheena asked.
"The kind that get people killed for knowing about them." The wanderer finished his ale and set the empty cup aside. "But I'll tell you this much—Lord Arzash didn't become a royal advisor through political acumen alone. The man has gifts that extend beyond the natural realm, talents that certain entities find... useful."
"You're speaking in riddles," Kael said, frustration bleeding into his voice.
"I'm trying to keep you alive." The wanderer's tone was sharp with exasperation. "Do you think I enjoy being cryptic? Every direct answer I give puts more targets on your backs. There are forces at work here that would think nothing of burning this entire town to ash if they believed it served their purposes."
Nisheena refilled the wanderer's cup without being asked, her movements thoughtful and precise. "But you need something from us, don't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here explaining anything at all."
The wanderer smiled, and for the first time it reached his eyes, though the expression held more resignation than warmth. "Perceptive. Yes, I need something. Information, specifically. I need to know who in this town has changed recently. Who's gained sudden wealth, or power, or influence they didn't have before? Who's made bargains they shouldn't have, or started hearing voices in the night."
"The chosen one," Kael said, understanding dawning.
"Or someone connected to them. The false gods don't work directly—they prefer to use intermediaries, people desperate enough to accept their gifts in exchange for service. Find the servant, and you find the master's true target."
"And when you do?" Nisheena's question was quiet but pointed.
"Then I do what I was trained to do. What I've always done." The wanderer met her gaze steadily. "I serve the crown, protect the kingdom, and ensure that the greater good prevails over individual suffering."
"No matter the cost?"
"No matter the cost."