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“I’m offering to bankroll your war against the Profane in exchange for enchanted silverware. I saw the extra dormitories being built at the academy, and the training camps for common soldiers outside the city. Such an overhaul of the knighthood and military doesn’t come cheap, and Uther has suffered some costly tragedies these last few years.”

“But I CAN’T make up for what I’ve done, don’t you understand? I can’t bring back the people I’ve killed. I can’t heal the people I’ve hurt. I can’t undo the damage I’ve wrought. One lifetime is not enough to properly repent for my sins, so why bother living? Maybe N-N-N-N… he… should have just killed me. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done. He said he would take everything from me, every sensation I can enjoy, every thought and feeling that makes me who I am, my hopes and dreams. He was right, it took it all, but he let me keep me life. I wish he hadn’t. I don’t deserve it.”

Sophia clutched her hands tightly. “But I did know. I knew she had that venom because I helped her transfer its abilities to a vial of Abernathy’s Ichor. I warned her what would happen, how dangerous it was to keep that bottle, and implored her to destroy it. She didn’t listen and told me to keep it a secret. To my shame, I did, and now I have the king’s blood, and the blood of countless knights and soldiers on my hands. Cyrilo said she would take responsibility for anything that happened, but all she’s done is go with the flow, hiding behind lies. Every time I try to talk to her about it, about us facing our sins, she silences me. She did it today, which is why I came to you. I must admit, I’ve lost a great deal of respect for her.