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He made his way out into the crude veranda of the house that they'd been squatting in. All of the homes in this neighborhood had been abandoned, but with the Melmoorians having pushed the Ostrans back up north, there was a chance that the residents might be returning to this little suburb soon.

Maybe. Dennex seemed to think it would still be a while yet. After having been pushed out by the encroaching war front, the reaper suspected that the people who fled wouldn't be so eager to come back until the conflict was fully resolved.

Which made sense, Cisco supposed. But it also made sense to him that those people wouldn't want to just abandon their entire lives in this place, either. And from the sound of it, this war might continue for quite some time. Or at least, that was what he'd been overhearing from Reza and Feromas. They both agreed that, with so many active fronts, the tide would probably shift many times before the end. If one side started losing in Melmoore, they could divert forces from another front in order to pick up the slack and mount a counteroffensive.

Cisco had been trying to pay attention to any details like that. Damian wasn't sharing the reasoning behind his decisions--assuming he even had any--so Cisco had to make due with what the reapers were saying and whatever he could piece together on his own.

Feromas probably knew more than he was letting on, but then again, this was Damian they were talking about. Cisco wouldn't have been surprised to learn that even the old bastard's own reaper was being kept in the dark.

'Why don't you just ask him directly?' Reza was saying.

Dunstan was hunched over in his chair, resting his face on a small white table. He hadn't bothered to wipe off any of the dirt or blood yet, and he didn't look like he'd have the energy to do so anytime soon, either.

Her question went unanswered. Aloud, at least. Perhaps Dunstan was talking to her in his head.

Reza had a habit of not keeping private conversations private, Cisco had noticed.