Page 1829 -- CXCII.

((Triple Saturday -- Page 3 of 3))
He sat down on the dry earth. He’d experience this a handful of times before. It was never pleasant. The first time it had happened, he’d just about lost his mind from worry alone. Now, though, it was strangely easy not to panic. Perhaps the dulling of his thoughts was factoring in there. Or perhaps it was just going to be the end, this time.

Well. If it was, it was.

He closed his eyes and meditated, tried to focus his murky mind. He knew that there was essentially nothing he could do at this point.

This was any servant’s greatest fear. Any person’s, really. This feeling of utter powerlessness and uncertainty. Whether it was the end or not.

Difficult though it was, he knew there was naught he could do now but wait. Either Overra would recover, or she wouldn’t. Either he would die along with her, or he wouldn’t.

So he waited. And he waited. And he waited.

For the end. Or whatever came next.


Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Two: ‘Dalliance with fortune...’
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The next few days were a constant mash of maintenance and activity for Hector. He never had any downtime, and indeed, he was beginning to feel like he never would again.

Mornings were usually devoted to training with Zeff, though Asad and a few others frequently joined in. Afternoons were spent checking up on affairs around Warrenhold, meeting with the top Rainlords and Madame Carthrace, and helping out with the restoration project. Evenings, if he had any time left by then, went toward the city of Gray Rock.

It had felt like ages since he’d actually been able to go out and just patrol the city for crime. Which was strange. This was his whole reason for becoming a servant, after all. To help normal people.

Now, though, it felt like a very different activity. Much less stressful. Almost relaxing, even.

No less rewarding, however. He didn’t think that helping people in mortal danger would ever stop being that, no matter how much easier it became.

Plus, it made for the best kind of practice, he thought. Field experience, is what Zeff had called it. And it certainly gave him plenty of opportunity to try out various techniques, even just when navigating the city--which was smoother than ever before. With the Scarf of Amordiin and his improving control over materialization, Hector was able to slingshot himself into the air haphazardly and catch himself without having to worry about causing any collateral damage. And of course, honing his flying technique was a priority as well.

Still, it did feel supremely strange that he considered this to be practice, now. This used to be the end goal. The aim. Yet now... it was more like a hobby or something.

The only thing that stopped it from feeling quite like that was the sense of urgency in it, the panicked people he ran into, ones in the midst of being victimized. He could only relax so much when hearing a man screaming for his life inside a burning building or witnessing a terrified shopkeeper being held at gunpoint.