Page 2693 -- CCXLIII.

He already knew what the reaper probably wanted to say--that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. That whatever had gone down in the Uego Desert had been entirely beyond him.

And he knew the reaper would be right, too. There was no sense in agonizing over it.

If only he could be entirely sensible.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to find his concentration again. Suddenly, his multiple thought processes all felt like one, big useless one.

'Let's head back to Warrenhold,' said Garovel.

He didn't look back up yet. 'But we still have a few more meetings here...'

'Eh, fuck 'em. The Rainlords need us, right now. We can take care of the rest of this later. Or better yet, have Ms. Rogers do it for us.'

Hector found it hard to disagree.

He took a deep breath and stood.


Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Three: 'O, ingenuous children...'
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This wasn't right. Not at all.

Parson Miles, at this point in his long life, liked to think he had acquired some semblance of control, of order. Laying plans. Nudging the world toward peace through controlled and necessary conflict. Trying to avoid needless bloodshed. And reacting appropriately when things went awry, which they often did.

He'd learned that long ago. It wasn't about crafting the perfect plan. It was about making the right decisions when things inevitably went pear-shaped.

But this.

Well.

Getting captured by the Mad Demon.

What was the right decision to make, now?

He'd stopped struggling a while ago. This mechanized beast had a solid hold on him, and whenever he acted up, its grip only became that much more oppressive. When he relaxed, the machine at least allowed him to think straight. And as a result of multiple prior attempts to escape, he'd lost time--and perhaps quite a lot of it. He didn't even remember ending pan-rozum and separating from Overra, but there she was in front of his face.