Austin, Gwydion, Samurai and Nitesco marched through the lands of Night's Watch, vast armies amassed behind them. As they came over the top of a hill and looked out over the horizon, they saw their target. Celtic's fortress was located on the other side of a small plateau, his fortress partially built into the side of a large hill. A road led down the other side, presumably to the capital city.

"I can't believe we're really here," Nitesco mused. "After all these years, it seems almost sad to end it now."

"I, for one, won't be sad to see this war end." Austin turned to the others. "You guys know the plan?"

Samurai nodded. "I go with you to charge through the main gates. Nitesco takes the Villainians and the Crosshares troops and goes through the side entrance. Gwydion takes a strike team through the back entrance. And then we put Celtic's head on the pike and return home as heroes."

"That's right!" Nitesco exclaimed, excited. "I wonder what my statue will look like," he joked. The other three chuckled.

"Well, we have to get there first, Nitesco," Gwydion said. "Maybe Celtic's desperate enough to surrender. Shall I offer him mercy?"

"You may as well," Nitesco said. "But I wouldn't bet on him giving up now."

"I'd take some shieldbearers with you, just in case Celtic tries anything," Austin advised. Gwydion nodded, and they began marching up to the front gate.

Gwydion dismounted, and he beckoned three shieldbearers to his side. They formed up around him, walking in front and to the side, ready to catch any arrows that might fly their way.

As they approached the gate, they noticed a familiar figure standing atop the walls, just over the main portcullis. Jokey von Zockey.

"So good to see you again, little mouse." Jokey laughed condescendingly. Gwydion did not indulge him with a retort, instead staring at him grimly.

"Jokey," Gwydion spoke. "I am not here to trade barbs. I am here to-"

"To offer us clemency?" Jokey cut him off. "To offer surrender for the shame of imprisonment? We will not bend so easily. We will see this fight through to the bitter end!"

Gwydion sighed. "Very well. Let it never be said we did not offer you mercy." He began to walk away, but stopped.

"You never did tell me what that inscription on your sword meant." He turned around. "Care to enlighten me?"

Jokey squinted at the blacksmith. "Alle für Celtic und der Konzil. All for Celtic and the Council."

Gwydion nodded. "I should have guessed." He turned around, and the shieldbearers with him slowly backed up as he walked away covering him.

As he rejoined the lines, Austin raised his sword and pointed to the castle.

"Today, we redeem the Subreddit! Today we restore peace to these lands! Today, we avenge those who have fallen, and honor them! Today, we cleanse the world of Celtic once and for all! My friends, it is time we end this. Attack!"

A line of trebuchets, gifts from King Redwing of Ladybug, heaved stones on the castle walls. They exploded in a shower of brick, mortar, and blood as the archers struggled to regroup and fire back.

The soldiers waited, shields up, for the walls to come crumbling down so they could charge through and sate their bloodlust. Austin took the moment to exchange glances with Samurai.

"Are you ready to die, my friend?"

Samurai tightened his grip on his halberd. "Always."

The wall exploded in another shower of stones. Austin raised his sword in the air.

"Charge!"

And the battle began.

Nitesco had set up his cannon to breach the secondary entrance's gate. Quixotic was right, it was well-hidden. Behind the gate was a courtyard, connected to Celtic's main castle by a large pathway invisible from where their army was. They would have been surrounded and flanked without Quixotic's intelligence.

The artillerymen nodded at him; the cannon was ready. "Fire!" He screamed.

The cannon went off, the cannonball hurtling towards the gate. With a blast, the gate was blown off its hinges, leaving the tunnel to the flanking center exposed. With their target exposed and momentarily surprised, Nitesco seized the opportunity.

"Attack, men! Let's crush these dishonorable scum!"

They charged through the tunnel, bellowing war cries and swinging their blades madly. The enemy soldiers, by then, had recovered from their surprise and were beginning to coordinate a defense. As his soldiers engaged the vastly outnumbered enemy, Nitesco took the opportunity to slip past them and run down the pathway into Celtic's castle, sure that his men could eliminate the flankers.

He came upon a small set of oak doors, but that would be no obstacle to him. With one swift kick, he knocked them in and continued on his way.

Nitesco walked into the room beyond them. It was wide open, if poorly lit. At the other side of the room was a set of stairs leading deeper into the castle. As he approached them, he heard breathing from just around the corner. Raspy, strained breathing. He knew instantly who it was.

"Come out. I know you're there."

Jokey came out from behind the corner, slightly disappointed.

"Oh, well. Looks like an ambush isn't going to work. Nonetheless…"

Jokey pulled out a dagger and flung it at Nitesco. He narrowly dodged it, moving ever so slightly to the left and watching as it embedded itself in the wall behind him. The stone around it corroded ever so slightly. Poison.

Suddenly it all came to him. A deep, overwhelming hatred suddenly consumed Nitesco. He stared at Jokey with death in his eyes.

"You're the one. You killed him, didn't you? You killed Quixotic. You murdered my friend."

Jokey chuckled. "Well, aren't you a smart one? Yes, I did kill your friend. Are you sad? Are you angry? Well, let's settle it, here and now." He drew his blades and smirked a bit.

"To tell you the truth, I was hoping you'd survive. Now we get to see who's the better man, once and for all."

Nitesco gritted his teeth. "You're going to burn in hell."

"We'll see about that," Jokey remarked.

Nitesco bellowed a war cry, and they began their duel.

The escape passages were lightly manned, defended more by their, most likely purposefully, elaborate and confusing design. Already, Gwydion had been forced to split up with his strike team, and now he was alone.

Despite this, he found that the tunnels were surprisingly spacious and smoothly surfaced. They were dimly lit, but whoever designed them clearly intended to provide escapees with a comfortable environment during an evacuation. Night's Watch was certainly a wealthy state with no qualms about spending its wealth.

Gwydion pushed these thoughts aside. He needed to focus on the mission.

His trek through the tunnels came to a halt when he turned a corner and saw a figure roughly twenty meters ahead. He stopped, drew his sword, and entered a combat stance.

"Who's there?" Gwydion called out. "Show yourself!"

The figure stepped out of the shadows into a patch of light. Gwydion tensed up as he recognized the person before him. The tunnel echoed with haughty feminine laughter.

"Hello, Gwydion," Maker said mockingly. "Do you remember me?"

Gwydion said nothing, but nodded.

"Of course you do," she stated. "And I remember you. I still have the scar you gave me with your little cannon. Tell me, do you think you'll be able to defeat me with that toy?"

Gwydion sized up his opponent. He remembered her being shorter, but she was as tall he was, shoulder-length blonde hair covering up some unsightly burn marks on her collarbone and neck, most likely from her experiments. She was wearing her leather tunic, and she brandished her gauntlets, complete with blades protruding from either side of the wrists, menacingly. On her belt, she held numerous arrows for her wrist-launchers, knives for either throwing or melee, and grenades, probably filled with foul chemicals. After a moment, he simply said, "No."

Maker giggled for no apparent reason. "That's wise. I would have killed you before you could pull the trigger."

Gwydion figured that wasn't an exaggeration.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I will die here, Maker. But it would be knowing that you and your perfidious cause would die with me, and there would at last be peace in the Subreddit."

Maker laughed condescendingly. "Oh, yes. There will be peace at last. Peace, prosperity and plenty for all peoples and all creeds. But you don't understand, Gwydion. That is our peace. The fruits of our labors. We uprooted the corrupt, the weak, and the impure. We cleansed this Subreddit of those who were holding it back. We molded it. We shaped it. We made it what it is today. You railed against us, the saviors, the martyrs. There will be peace because of us, not in spite of us. And although I may taste defeat, although I may die this day, I will die gladly, knowing I did my duty in the end."

Gwydion knew he couldn't last long going toe-to-toe with Maker. This fight would have to end quickly, one way or another.

"Prepare yourself!" Maker exclaimed. "Your death is imminent!"

She began toward him, wrist-blades poised to strike. Gwydion held steady and tried to read her movements. Her arms were out at her sides. She pulled an arm back. She was going for a thrust.

Gwydion threw his plan into action. He moved his sword into his left hand and lunged forward and downward. Maker's thrust connected with his weapon and knocked it out of his hand. Gwydion reached for Maker's belt, grabbed something and pulled a pin. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

"What?" Maker said, before the world turned green.

Gwydion could feel the air pressure changed around him. His exposed skin burned from contact with the lethal gas in the air. Blindly, he moved as quickly as he could away from where Maker had been standing. After several seconds of a combination of running and crawling, he felt the air return to normal and the burning sensation on his skin grew less intense. He dared to take a breath, and he exhaled a sigh of relief when it didn't harm him. He opened his eyes and turned around just in time to see a knife flying toward his face.

Instinctively, he raised his left arm to shield himself. The blade went through Gwydion's forearm, causing him to cry out in pain. He knelt on the ground, held his arm, and braced himself to be hit by another projectile. That projectile never came.

Gwydion heard coughing and retching coming from within the cloud of gas. Looking in, he could see Maker's shadowy figure crawling toward him, making shaky movements as she tried to escape from the gas. Before long, her face emerged, covered in blisters and blood. The rest of her body followed, any exposed skin being reddened at best and grotesquely torn at worst. Once she'd completely escaped the cloud, Maker collapsed on the ground and writhed in pain.

Seeing his opponent was in no condition to continue fighting, Gwydion momentarily turned his attention to his own wound. The knife had fully penetrated his arm, with the tip sticking out on the opposite side of the point of entry. Knowing he couldn't leave it there, Gwydion grabbed the handle and braced himself. Taking a deep breath, he pulled with all his might. The knife slid out, and the pain it left behind elicited a scream and several choice swear words from Gwydion. When he was again able to focus on things other than pain, Gwydion turned his attention back to Maker.

Her condition had not improved. The toxic gas was taking its toll on Maker's body and mind.

"Too much," she gasped. "Too much!"

Gwydion moved to her side. "Too much of what?"

"I didn't think… it would hurt this much," she choked out. Another fit of coughing ensued as her body tried fruitlessly to recover from its poisoning. When she was able to speak again, she looked hatefully at Gwydion.

"I'm sorry, Maker," he said, "but you brought this on yourself."

"You should thank us, scum." She wheezed painfully and choked up a glob of discolored blood.

"And why is that?"

"Because," she hissed. "Everything you have, we gave to you. Look at you now. You command armies. You hold court with nobles and kings. You wield power like few others have.

"But where would you be without us, hmm? Where would you be, had we never rebelled? You'd still be that blacksmith in Bumblebee, slaving away, day in and day out. Hiding from who you are. Too afraid to confront the past. You would have lived and died a coward."

Maker began wheezing, and her eyes started to glaze over. Her end was approaching. Gwydion leaned in ever so slightly, intent on hearing her last words.

"You owe us everything. So tomorrow, when you look out on the Subreddit, with your power, and your wealth and your new prestige, and you look back on who you were and how far you have come, remember, Gwydion. You have us to thank."

Maker's raspy, faint breathing subsided, and she rolled over onto her side. She was dead.

Gwydion sighed, turning away from Maker and the cloud of poison that had been her undoing. He had to leave sword behind, still deep in the cloud of poisonous gas. With Maker's knife in his good hand, he continued down the tunnels towards his destination, and towards one final battle.

Jokey was facing an opponent unlike any he'd fought before. A reckless, enraged opponent who screamed in between each breath he took. This opponent was not outstanding in skill, speed, or strength. Nor was he a particularly brilliant strategist. What set this opponent apart was his complete willingness to die for the sake of a kill.

Nitesco seemed to have no concern about his own wellbeing as he moved and attacked with a special kind of madness. The strokes of his sword came one after another, each attack leaving him open to a lethal response from Jokey. However, he moved quickly enough that Jokey couldn't exploit these openings without risking receiving a killing blow in turn. Jokey wasn't helped by the strain and fatigue caused by his various injuries and ailments. As the only combatant whose sense of self-preservation was still intact, he was forced to stay on the defensive.

Unfortunately, Jokey was not used to being on the defensive.

With each attack and pivot made by Nitesco, Jokey had to respond in turn with a dodge or parry. He waited and waited for an opportunity to counter his opponent and rob him of the advantage without running the risk of getting skewered. After a minute, he found it. After a lunge from his opponent, Jokey grabbed Nitesco's sword and ripped it from his grasp, leaving Nitesco without a weapon. With this, the outcome of the battle was decided.

With his own off hand, Nitesco instantly responded by throwing a punch over Jokey's right arm, barely missing being cut by the sword it held at a tilted angle. His fist directly connected with Jokey's temple. Jokey lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Nitesco was hearing voices. He was hearing people that weren't there.

He heard Gwydion comment, "That was a heavy hit. He's been knocked out cold. Probably has a bit of brain damage after that one."

He heard Austin say, "No surprises here. Nitesco's gifted; this is normal for him. He exceeds expectations, as usual."

Voices spoke on top of voices. Nitesco stepped forward.

He heard Inferno say, "I pity him, but he had this coming. "

He heard Samurai say, "This is what we do. We fight, and we die."

Voices from the past drowned each other out. Nitesco picked up his sword.

Jaeger said, "A stunning display! You've made a fine soldier indeed."

Greatness said, "Send him to me. I'd like to talk with him again."

Voices grew louder, rendering each other unrecognizable.

A woman said, "Stop! Don't touch him again!"

A man said, "Come on, coward! Don't waste our time!"

A demon said, "Please don't break him. I could make further use of him."

Voices filled his head, filled his body, threatening to burst from inside of him. In the cacophony of roaring voices, he couldn't hear his own thoughts. He couldn't hear his own reasoning. He pressed the tip of his sword to Jokey's chest.

A voice said, "Wait!"

A voice said, "Please!"

A voice said, "Go!"

A voice said, "Kill!"

He raised his sword, preparing to stab. The voices got louder than should have been possible. One impossible voice spoke above all the others.

Quixotic said, "Nitesco."

He gasped.

Quixotic said, "You choose your destiny. You decide who you will be, and what you will do with the world. That's one of the things I like most about you. Remember that."

His hand shook. The sword shook with it.

Quixotic said, "Remember me."

He dropped the sword and fell to his knees. In an instant, the voices vanished. The room was quiet. His head was quiet. All that could be heard was the sound of Nitesco softly sobbing. Soon, he heard himself thinking:

I need to find Austin and Gwydion. I need to help them.

He picked up his sword and returned it to his sheathe. Before leaving, he looked at Jokey one more time. Temptation came to him again. This time, he did not let it consume him. He pulled out his dagger and bent down next to Jokey's face. He made a couple of careful incisions, then put his dagger away. Finally, he stood once more, and went to see his mission to its conclusion.

The battle raged fiercely in the courtyard. Samurai swung his halberd in a wide arc, beheading three Night's Watch soldiers who thought they could best him. As he kicked another knight away, he looked around.

They had underestimated the garrison Celtic had on hand. It took longer than they expected to claim even one part of the outer defenses, and despite this, the soldiers just kept coming.

Samurai pounced on a lone knight, bringing his halberd down into his chest with a sickening crunch. He looked up and saw a squad of soldiers barreling at him.

Swiftly, he rammed the back point of his halberd into one soldier's neck, pulling it out and decapitating the man. He twirled the halberd around, taking two of the momentarily stunned soldiers down. The last one, an officer of low rank, readied himself and brandished his mace.

He swung at Samurai, who struggled to block it. Not used to being on the defensive, and certainly not intent on staying that way, he took a few hasty steps back and swung his halberd upward. It didn't connect, but it put him back on the offensive. A couple more well-placed swings eliminated the threat.

"Austin!" He cried, hoping to get his commander's attention. They had been split up, and if they were to have any hope of coordinating a defense, they needed to find each other.

He charged through the mass of soldiers, finding that surprisingly few soldiers even looked his way. After sweeping aside a particularly inexperienced swordsman, he saw someone that looked familiar to him.

"Samurai!" Austin yelled. He ran over to him and swiftly dispatched a soldier that was creeping up behind his friend.

"Austin? Thank the goddesses!" He looked around; the outer defenses seemed to be cleared of enemy soldiers. His co-commander pulled him aside.

"We can't get into Celtic's fortress. The main gateway, in the inner courtyard, is too heavily defended to get to. The portcullis is closed."

Samurai stroked his chin, considering the situation.

"We can't afford to wait them out," Austin continued. "We need to get in there quickly and make sure Celtic doesn't escape."

Samurai nodded in assent. "I think I know what to do," he said. He pointed. "The portcullis is opened by a mechanism on the battlements directly above it. If someone gets there, they can get it open."

"Just one problem," Austin said, looking where Samurai had indicated. "To safely get to those battlements with this many defenders, we'd need a siege tower, which will take too long to construct. We couldn't make one in this space, anyway. All we have are ladders; if we try to get up with just those, we'll surely get picked off."

"Surely?" Samurai asked, "Or probably?"

Austin scowled. "It'd be a suicide mission. You might get a few men up there, but the cost would be too great. The assault would fail."

"But we could get the portcullis open? At least for a moment?"

Austin stared ahead in silence for several seconds. "Maybe," he said reluctantly. "Fine. If you think this is the best course of action, we can try it, but it's too risky for my liking."

"We aren't going to try anything," Samurai corrected. "I will lead a squad up the ladder. You will cover us from down here, wait for the opening, and use it when you have the chance. This is how you get to Celtic."

Austin clenched his fists. "I don't like this."

"It has to be this way."

Austin sighed. "Alright. Take care of yourself, Samurai, that's an order. And if I don't see you again… thanks. For everything."

Samurai gave a smile and a thumbs-up, then ran off toward one of the ladders currently being held just out of range of Celtic's archers. When he reached it, he gathered the attention of soldiers standing nearby. When he had a small crowd around him, he began explaining the situation.

"Listen up, men! We have a new objective. We're going to scale this wall, get that gate open, and get our forces inside the keep. It's dangerous, I know, but someone has to do it. That's why I'm going to lead the way. Who's with me?"

With newfound energy and motivation, the gathered soldiers cheered with approval. Samurai nodded in acknowledgement of his soldiers, then began giving orders.

"Alright, then. Four men on the ladder, shield wall in front. Advance at a steady pace and hold firm! You there, give me that shield and stay back; I'll be needing it."

As Samurai's force approached the wall, they came under fire from archers stationed on the wall. Most arrows missed or landed ineffectively, but several found their mark, knocking down some of Samurai's men. Enduring the barrage, they eventually reached the wall. Samurai barked further orders.

"You four, hold the ladder steady. Everyone else, after me. Charge!"

The soldiers gave fierce war cries and followed Samurai as he began his charge up the ladder, shield raised. Arrows whizzed past as they made their way up.

Austin, meanwhile, had troops of his own positioned.

"Archers, ready!" He yelled, and the line of archers near him nocked arrows in their bows, aiming at the section of wall currently being assaulted.

"Fire!" Arrows flew up in an arc, and several hit Night's Watch forces near the chokepoint. Within seconds, Austin's group came under fire from the defenders.

"Cover! Get to cover!" He ordered, hastily taking cover behind a stone monument as his surrounding soldiers followed suit, seeking cover where they could find it or otherwise beating a hasty retreat from a rain of arrows. Austin kept his head down and waited with his ears ready for the signal.

Samurai reached the top of the ladder and pushed his way onto the ramparts, fending off Night's Watch soldiers as he did so. His own soldiers followed him, and before long a fight was taking place on top of the walls. Seeing this from below, soldiers of the attacking force erupted into cheers and rallied. Though no one else tried to advance a ladder to the walls, soldiers en masse shot arrows and slung projectiles up at their foes whose line was now broken.

Samurai weaved his way between defenders, using sword and shield to knock down or quickly slay those who stood between him and the opening mechanism. The men following him engaged in melee anyone he did not kill, keeping his back covered. Eventually, he reached his objective: a wheel that needed to be turned to open the portcullis.

"Cover me!" He ordered several nearby soldiers. Night's Watch troops encircled Samurai and his makeshift squadron as he began to open the gate.

Below, Austin heard the sound of creaking metal and took at as his cue to move. He quickly emerged from behind cover and ran toward the opening portcullis at a sprint.

Samurai turned the wheel as hard and fast as he could as fighting took place around him. One by one, the members of his squad were slain by the overwhelming number of defenders. He continued to hold the wheel, intent on keeping the gate open as long as possible.

Moving as fast as he could, Austin reached the partially open portcullis, ducked under it, and made his way toward the main gateway.

Samurai felt a piercing pain his back. He looked down and saw a red tip protruding from his chest. He felt himself weaken as the sword was pulled out and blood began to pour from the wound it had made.

"Well," he said to himself, "this is it. Time to go down."

He released the wheel and turned to see the man that had stabbed him. It was a Night's Watch officer, someone he'd met before and who wore a smug expression as he looked a wounded Samurai in the eyes.

"It's over for you, traitor."

Samurai, in lieu of a response, grabbed the officer by the shoulders. With all of his remaining strength, he threw himself over a parapet.

In one final act of defiance, he brought the officer down with him.

Some distance away, a young Night's Watch soldier alerted his commanding officer.

"Sir, one of the attackers has gotten past the wall. He's making his way inside the keep, what should we do?"

The officer thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Leave him be. We have people inside; they'll take care of him. We have a fight to worry about here."

With that, they returned their attention to the defense of the inner walls.

Austin breathed a sigh of relief. He was inside.

As he made his way down the winding corridors of the castle, he heard footsteps relatively close to him. He drew his blade, cautiously opened a set of doors, and came out in a harshly-lit foyer, illuminated only by red-stained windows. In the center of the room, Vulpix stood, staring at him.

"Ah, Vulpix," Austin said. "Long time no see. How have you been, general?"

Vulpix said nothing and readied his sword, staring fiercely at the intruder. Austin ignored the hostility.

"You remember me, right? We met on the battlefield some time ago. I'll be honest, I've thought about you many times since then. Of all of Celtic's people, you stand out to me. Do you know why?"

Vulpix scowled. "I don't care what you have to say. If all you're going to do is talk, then you're wasting my time."

Austin chuckled mirthlessly. "You definitely sound like one of Celtic's people. You act like you don't care about the pain you cause every day. The price you make others pay for your success. That acting ability is why you can give me that evil look. It's why Celtic doesn't suspect that you're disloyal."

Vulpix's eyes widened. "Disloyal? I've served Celtic faithfully every day. On what grounds do you suggest that I'm disloyal?" His nostrils flared. "I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face, you codger!" Although he made the threat, he remained standing in place.

Austin nodded solemnly. "You have strived to serve him faithfully. That's why you continue to lead his armies. That's why you killed Inferno."

Vulpix's blood ran cold. How did he—

"You may not have killed him with your own hands," Austin continued, "but you were complicit in causing his death. And from what Inferno told me about your relationship, that probably weighs pretty heavily on you, doesn't it?"

Vulpix was silent.

"Those emotions are what make you disloyal. They are what tempt you to turn away from your master."

Vulpix clenched his hands tightly around the hilt of his sword. "You don't know me," he said. "Stop pretending that you do. Shut up and just fight me!" Having run of patience, Vulpix charged, and Austin readied his defense in response.

The ensuing combat was fast and one-sided. Vulpix held constantly on the offensive, aggressively pursuing his opponent and seeking openings in which to strike, making frequent attempts to land a hit. Austin held a firm defensive style, parrying Vulpix's strikes and avoiding his advances. He patiently awaited an opportunity of his own, and eventually found it. After one of his opponent's missed attacks, Austin delivered a swift elbow to Vulpix's face. It connected directly with the nose, causing Vulpix to cry out and stumble backward in pain. Though he left himself wide open to another strike, Austin did not seize the opportunity.

Realizing that he'd been momentarily defenseless, Vulpix quickly resumed a combat stance, ignoring the pain in his face. He glared at Austin and charged once more, fueled by emotion and showing no regard for proper fighting form. Austin was able to dodge a slash and quickly knock Vulpix down with a counterattack. Seeing Vulpix struggle to get up, Austin spoke again.

"I know more about you than you might think. You're a young leader of an army, working every day to put yourself and the things you care about in the best position possible. To do this, you've become more willing over time to loosen your standards of "acceptable" behavior. You've gotten used to killing. You've learned to ignore that little voice in your head that tells you when you're doing something wrong. Of course I know what that's like; I mean, how could I not? I've lived that."

Vulpix got back on his feet and halfheartedly raised his sword once more. Austin established and maintained eye contact.

"I can see it in your eyes, though. That voice hasn't gone away, has it? It's still there, whispering. It's telling you that there's another path. The fact that you can still hear it means that you still have a chance. Please," Austin said, showing sincere sympathy, "take control of your destiny. Stop serving that monster and choose another path." He reached out a hand toward the general. "I'm making this request as a friend, not an enemy."

Vulpix felt his resolve weaken and his arms drop several degrees. "We're not friends," he muttered.

"But we could be, if you wanted."

Vulpix whispered, "I killed Inferno."

"What was that?"

Vulpix's anger returned to him. "I killed Inferno!" he shouted. "Not in the abstract sense. I literally murdered him with my own hands. I dealt the killing blow. I personally struck him down." With shaking hands, he brought his weapon up once more. "So, do you still think I can change? After I killed someone I supposedly cared about? After I murdered someone I love for the pride of a man I don't? Do you still think you can turn me away from my cause after that? Well?" He clenched his teeth and prepared to attack again.

Austin stood silently for a moment. He looked down and seriously considered the question, deep in thought. He looked back up. "Somehow, yes. Yes, I really do."

Vulpix felt a burning sensation in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance?"

"A while back, you saved someone I really cared about," Austin said softly. "And you seem like the kind of person who might go on to save more. You've got that kind of heart. So, I'm trying to repay you, and give you the chance to do some good in the world. All you have to do," he said, pointing at Vulpix's sword, "is drop your weapon and walk out of here. Do that, and one of us doesn't have to die. We can both walk away from here."

Vulpix looked down at his weapon. It had been a gift from Celtic; a sword that would be a symbol of his power and position, Celtic had told him. He found that he couldn't loosen his grip on it.

"I know what I have to do," he said. "But I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it." He looked at Austin pleadingly, through blurry vision. "Will you help me?"

Austin hesitated, then nodded softly. "Alright. I will." He sheathed his weapon and walked slowly toward Vulpix, arms held in front of him.

Vulpix kept his sword where it was, watching Austin as he approached. Austin was ten meters away. Five. One. Austin placed his hands on the hilt of Vulpix's sword. He pulled. Vulpix held on. Austin tugged harder. Vulpix kept his hands clenched tightly. With one more pull, Austin finally managed to wrench the weapon from the general's grasp. Vulpix held his empty hands in front of his face and looked at them, as though surprised by their appearance.

"There," Austin said, breathing heavily. "You've been disarmed. Now your only option is retreat." He smiled. "Get going. You've got your whole life ahead of you."

Tears flowed freely down Vulpix's face. He nodded and walked toward an exit. Suddenly, Austin called after him.

"Before you go, would you mind telling me where Celtic is? That would save me a lot of time."

Vulpix looked back and shook his head. "He's too strong," he warned. "He'll kill you if you face him alone. You should leave too."

Austin grinned confidently. "We'll see about that. Please, can you give me directions?"

Vulpix resigned. With a sigh, he pointed. "Down that hallway. Go deeper into the keep until you see the really big, scary-looking doors. Celtic should still be behind those. Good luck."

He paused. "If you get the chance," he added, "try to take him alive," He doubted his request would be heeded, but he felt the need to make it nonetheless. With a final nod, Vulpix departed.

Austin stood for a moment and rested. After a brief respite, he dropped Vulpix's sword and advanced, beginning his hunt.

He followed Vulpix's instructions, going deeper into the keep until he found the tall, ominous-looking doors. Two banners stood on each side, the sigil of Night's Watch emblazoned on both of them. He prepared himself and pushed them open.

The throne room doors opened slowly with a drawn-out creak. Celtic stood from his throne and picked up the battle-axe at his side, waiting to see who would emerge from behind them. When the doors stopped moving, he saw Austin standing on their threshold.

Celtic smiled bitterly. Austin returned a solemn smile of his own. They spoke in unison:

"I've been waiting for this."