"So, you think you're a hero? Of the gods?" Anselm barely contains himself.

"No, I'm just saying it wouldn't be a surprise if I were, not that I want to be or anything."

As I scramble to defend myself from Anselm's mocking gaze and laugh, I swear off giving the ghost any more ammunition to knock me down with.

"Heroes…no, how do I put this?" his cheeks have been stuck in a wide spread angle showcasing off all his merry pearly whites; annoying.

"Heroes aren't summoners of the undead, heroes don't plan to take over the world or fantasize about their power growing to unbelievable magnitudes that no one would be able to resist their wills. Heroes do good without expecting benefits or rewards or women!" He burst out laughing at the last part.

"Just because I think Mathilda and Leriva are two good looking women does not mean I want them. I can't have them anyway."

His loud guffaw laughter falls into painful giggles as he clutches his sides and tries to speak, "You…haa, you literally said you wanted to be…STUCK BETWEEN BOTH OF THEIR-" and he rises back up into a loud, bursting laughter.

I shake my head at him, too ashamed to say another word as the man proves he has a memory that is not to be underestimated, unless you're asking when he died of course.

Before long Anselm finally calms himself down enough that the thought of me being a hero of the Gods elicits only a light chuckle.

"Well, if I'm not a hero, perhaps someone else is? Or maybe there aren't heroes at all and this world is doomed to the whims of battling Gods, just like before the shattering."

The shattering. From Anselm's history lessons I learned that the world was once upon a time a single land mass, with people and creatures of many likeness milling about within their own Kingdoms or in others as conquerors in war.

But because of some other war, a war beyond anyone's comprehension, not even the Diviners, the world was torn apart, shattered by the battling Gods and so we live, walking though the battlefield and trying to live a life.

And yet, another war still looms, or perhaps the first never ended in the first place.

Anselm nods, "I think it's better you believe the world is doomed to the whims of battling Gods as you say. It is far better than pining on the chance that there will be a redeemer of sorts. If there is then you'd simply be pleasantly surprised but aptly prepared at the same time no?"

"You think about a lot." I point out, shaking my head at him, "Fine then, what do you think about leaving? We still have the option but simply considering it prompted Lotar to summon me and remind me of the deal I made with him."

I sigh, gnawing on the remains of my bony meal, "And he also mentioned that I'd get a boon if I kill a fourth Cultist."

"Well, that doesn't mean it has to be this Cultist does it?"

Actually…

"I don't think so. Huh." I realize Lotar made no specifications to which Cultist General I should kill for the second boon, he just asked me to kill and keep killing. "But I know where you're going with this, and I'm really sceptical about it."

He snorts, folding his arms and crossing his legs as he floats, looking a bit awkward in his armour, "Okay, where am I going with this?"

"You think if we attack a different Cultist, far away from Carbina they won't have the several upgrades they have to combat my abilities."

He smiles, looking pleasantly surprised, "Well yes, that is where I was going." At his admission I pump my fist. Sometimes talking the undoubtably century old ghost had me feeling like a student of strategy and I was failing much of the time.

"So? What are your doubts?" he persists.

"Right, well, we don't know if they share their hive mind abilities without considering range. Carbina is large, larger than any place we've been to yet and it houses the highest population count too. And yet the Cultists have no trouble relaying information about me."

I take a deep breath and continue, "Worse is, we don't even know when they are sharing this information, we might as well assume it's a constant stream. There is also the chance that their Generals all around the world have been modified to crush me and are simply waiting for me to step wrong."

Anselm nods, digesting all I've spouted out my mouth in a frenzy while I wet my lips with some water and a bit of grape.

After a bit he shakes his head as he floats back down to the floor with me. "No, I don't think you have that much to worry about."

"Sure, the Cultists may not be hindered by range and may as well be sharing all the information they encounter with each other constantly, but there's something I've noticed from our encounters with them, as well as what the Bull General said himself."

"What's that?" I ask, terribly impatient. I need to know I have a plan.

"Well, the Cultists are engineered for fighting whoever the best Mage is in their proximity. Leriva said she got away with killing one of the Generals, that encounter is what made her learn that distracting the Generals makes the minions lose their magic, but the encounter also gave the Cultist knowledge of how she fights, that's why trying to burst through their ranks was nigh impossible for her afterwards, they adapted, to her."

"Uhh, yes, that's the problem. They are adapting to me and my skills. They know my moves; they've rendered them useless."

Again, he shakes his head, "They know your moves and adapt to them, but only to them. If you introduce another Mage into the battle then the Generals are awfully easy to beat."

He chuckles, "The Cultists at Arak village absorbed the entire village, the minions were plentiful and in great number, but that didn't matter to the Following because they could easily fight the minions off and cut down the General, even if one of them was adapted to."

"But with you? The minions diminished in number after you unleashed your undead at the first one. The second General cut down and adapted to you, the threat that killed her predecessor, but you used what little minions she had to blow her to pieces and render her speed naught."

"But the Bull General, he completely abandoned his minions, he buried them under, right along with your undead and didn't worry about the corpse exploding because his body could take it, it had been adapted to your skills. And after two Generals being killed by you it's obvious, you'd be the one to come knocking. There wasn't any need to prepare for someone else."

As I stare at him wide eyed, he laughs, clapping his hands as he begins to unravel the mystery for me, "And this is what takes the cake. If you want to ignore all the signs that the Generals can only adapt to a single person at a time, just take the Bull Generals words for it."

He grins as he quotes, "'You may have slain my foolish colleagues and forced me to take this form to combat you, but now you lay at my feet'"

With the final word uttered it all comes crashing down on me. The truth, it's been there all along, staring me in the face as I blind myself with worry of my proficiency and my next spell.

"The stronger I get the more they adapt to me." Anselm nods, "But if I get too strong, stronger than this at least, at some point they won't be able to adapt to all my spells, all my strategies, they won't be able to account for it all because for some reason it's an inconvenience, perhaps even a strain on their being."

"Yes!" Anselm yells excitedly as I complete the jigsaw for myself. His smile is wide and contagious. I laugh.

"But the problem still remains, if there are more than one Cultist Generals in the area, they will adapt to me, and if they can leave whatever it is, they are planning on doing then they can give chase, they can cut me off and end the threat I present."

"Will present," Anselm corrects, "We're not all the way there yet, but at least we know we can grow stronger than they can hold. But let's leave all of that pessimism at the back for now. The Generals here have yet to make any moves on Carbina proper, the Bull General mentioned he needed you dead for their sacrifice to work."

I groan as he reminds me. Combatting a power based and strategic oriented dilemma is one thing but throw in morality into the mix and it becomes something else entirely.

"Do you want to leave the people of Carbina here? They know about the sacrifice, the pentagram, they know about it all but they are helpless to it. Leriva is still unconscious and even if she were to wake, the Generals are currently adapted to you. As you are now you surely surpass Leriva. Throw her at that Bull General and it's over."

He doesn't have to say it but I can feel it hanging off his last words. 'Will you save them?'

"What choice do I have?" I sigh, resigning myself to this fate.

In the corner of my eye, I catch his lips twitch in a smile. And he says I'm no Hero.

***

Standing at the end of the bed, I can't combat the feeling of apprehension as I gaze upon Leriva. Watching her sleep so peacefully yet her fate hangs in a nigh permanent turmoil, the thought of her ailment seems so...mild and trifling, but looking upon her now, her red hair no longer in the usual double bun but now spills forth like a water fall behind her still head.

Her eyes are sealed shut, the bright brown eyes that challenged me and burned bright in battle now hidden away behind her eyelids and the tight, calm visage of shy death that washes over her as she sleeps.

It scares me.

In my past life I'd been fortunate not to have a loved one succumb to illness or accident that slips them into a coma, this death-like sleep. It's fascinating to think and ponder about without facing it, but it's terribly frightening now that I see it with my own eyes.

There aren't any beeping monitors or catheters around to keep her alive, fed and cleaned, nor to give the room an extra flare of grim. Instead, there is an army of maids and servants tending to her every need, there's Mathilda spilling over her and sobbing every so often and there's her stillness.

The worst thing of all is how still she is, not like she's dead or anything no, like she's asleep, like all you need to do is shake her up a bit and she'll grumble for some more time in bed and yawn tiredly. The deception.

I beg myself to look away and after many minutes I do, my eyes long since dried up I blink out the water that'd gathered up and address Mathilda as I intended to the moment, I walked in.

"Mathilda, could I have a word please?"

Mathilda is again spilled over her lover, hushing words into her ears and breaking into short sobs. I call out her name once more for good measure and this time she rises, wiping her face clean with a cloth she produces from her pockets before turning to grace me with her swollen face.

She smiles and sniffles as she speaks, "Ah, uh, she's not awake yet if that's what you were coming to check on."

Rather than cut to the chase I linger on Leriva a bit, "You explained her problem to me, is there nothing anyone can do for her?"

"Oh, it's not a serious problem, it's a tricky one if it gets out of hand but these days it's very easy to treat." She says dismissively.

I blink, confused, "Isn't this life threatening?"

She chuckles, still fidgeting with her cloth and her face as she speaks, "Oh yes, it is. If it's untreated."

"So…then you're treating her?"

At last, she sees my confusion and it dawns on her how ignorant I am, "Ah, we can't treat her. It's easy to do so, all you need is a potion from any novice alchemist really."

Alchemy?

"So, what's the issue then?"

She heaves a sigh, her shoulders dropping so low I think she's about to collapse, "We're not part of the Synagogue. We're not recognized by House Carbina either. We're outcasts through and through because…"

I quirk an eyebrow and urge her to finish her sentence, "Because…?"

"Because we love each other."

Oh. Why is that all? Well, I suppose I'm a bit more forward thinking than a bunch of people living a Medieval lifestyle can possibly be.

Still, I'm curious, "Don't Nobles get to frolic with whomever they want?"

Mathilda guides me to take a seat at the little parlour Leriva has in her room. We take a seat and again she sighs, "Not when it interferes with your duty. Our love cost her family a marriage tie with another prominent House. To get her to do as they demand, her family threatened to expose her to the Vicar, to the Synagogue, they threatened to strip her of all the privileges to retains as a Mage; knowledge, sanctuary…potions."

Her eyes light up as she snickers at the memory, "For some reason, she thought I was worth it all, worth all the trouble of being cut off from everything. But her defiance only served to further enrage her Mother. She was tossed out, for picking a woman as a lover and a commoner at that. Fortunately, her Father still held some heart in him and granted her this fief, I don't know much else after this."

I nod, and we sit in a comfortable silence as I ponder; I finally understand why Leriva was so doubtful of the Following coming to her aid. Still, this story brought me more questions of the Synagogue. How do they manage to control everything? Are they no illegal black markets or merchants willing to sell to someone outcast from the Synagogue?

Carbina trades with Aste and other towns and villages nearby, do they refuse to export goods that are controlled by the Synagogue to Carbina because the Mayor happens to be an outcast? I've got many more questions but first I must ask the ones that brought me here.

"Mathilda." I begin. She hums a response, picking at her fingernails with other fingernails. "I need to go." I announce.

Her head shoots up, her absentmindedness no more as she blinks ever so slowly at me, "What?"

"I need to go." I repeat. "I need to leave Carbina."

"You mean you want to leave." her shock barely allowing her voice go beyond a whisper.

"Well, yes. But I'll be back and soon."

She blinks, raising her head to look at me at last, "You'll be back? Where are you going? The Cultists are still around and you mentioned Leriva was right, they do want to kill us all."

I sigh as I realize this might be a bit harder with her aware of the Cultist's still active plan to sacrifice them all.

"Look, don't panic, I just need to get to Aste and get the Following or any Mage that I can hire."

She shakes her head solemnly, "Do you have an ID?"

"What?"

"I thought so. You aren't registered with the Synagogue and you won't be registered either."

I've been travelling about the Kingdom unimpeded for so long it didn't really occur to me that I held no means of identification. "What do I need the ID for? And why won't I be registered?"

"The Church controls many of the Hunter guilds that are littered about the continent, if you have an ID with the church and a citizenship with the Kingdom you can hire Mages or Hunters to do jobs for you from the Hunter guilds."

Well, I'm a bit lost but she knows that judging by the exasperated look she's giving me.

"You don't have an ID and you can't register with the Synagogue because you're a wanted Necromage. You're practicing one of the forbidden Magical Arts!" she huffs.

"Well, Anselm can go in then, they won't recognize him."

"Anselm is dead." She deadpans.

"Sometimes he is."

"Yes, but the ID is magically implanted, it's a seal that's scribbled unto your skin permanently." She raises her sleeve and flicks her wrist at my face. A little infusion of mana and a circular seal becomes visible.

"Right. That wouldn't take with Anselm, can't etch mana unto mana, can you?

Her shaking head cements my disappointment and ruins my plans. Who knew being a wanted man would limit your service options?

"I'll just have to figure something out. A bit of coin will no doubt grease many hands." I sigh, this is very depressing knowledge to come by at now. This just means walking into the centre of the March and buying sweet Nobility is no longer a feasible plan if I'm instantly recognizable as the foul Necromage.

"Perhaps, but really concerns me is the six days or more it'll take for you to get back, if you truly plan on returning that is." She scoffs.

It takes three or four days to get to Aste by carriage many more by foot. Which is why I'm glad she spoke as though I'd be going by carriage, "I was actually coming in to ask you for some supplies for the journey, a carriage, some food and coin." I have more than enough coin but even more wouldn't hurt would it?

She gives me a strange look like I'm crazy, "You took over the village, Asher, why are you asking me?"

Immediately, I burst out laughing, "Right, you see it that way. I simply 'took over the village' so you could rule without question, like you are now."

"Oh."

"Still, I will be leaving. Since I don't need your permission to take what I need I'll simply help myself and be on my way. I promise I'll be back, might even bring a little something for Leriva."

She puts on a tight smile, "Yes, that would be nice." Is all she can bring herself to say before burying her face in her hands.

Hopefully I can do well by my word in Aste. If I can't hire some other Mages or draw the attention of the Following to Carbina's struggles then I'll have to make due with Leriva, and to make due with her she'd need to be awake.

Last resort? Send Anselm in to steal the potion. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.