text: You pass the inn by, instead opting to continue on into the night on the road. Carrying onward for miles, you eventually lay down on the side of the road to sleep for the night. A few hours later you awaken to the morning light, and continue onwards, north to Sodran.
  
  You've been there before, almost a lifetime ago. Back in your day the place was like a sapling surrounded by soot; attempting to grow, but suppressed by its surroundings. The metaphorical soot to the city's metaphorical sapling was the evil wizard you faced down. Try as you might, you could never forget the expressions on the faces of the downtrodden. They looked like they had nothing to live for.
  
  You suppose you know know how it feels now.
  
  By midday, the city is within sight after passing a few dozen villages or so. Great walls surround it, and tall buildings poke out from behind the walls. Stone steps lead up to a massive stone archway, which itself leads into the city proper. There's a statue at the base of the steps, the details of which you can't make out, but it looks like it's in decent condition from this far away. It's a magnificent sight, to be sure.
  
  Once you're within a half mile of the city not an hour later, you finally notice something you couldn't spot from further away: a large camp encompasses the city. Strange. A quarter mile away you can make out shambling figures stumbling around the camp. Once you get close, not ten yards away, you can make out exactly what's happening.
  
  The shambling figures all look to be malnourished and dressed in glorified rags. The adults sit around the camp looking defeated, a small number praying to whatever God they worship. A few children run around kicking a ball, but their expressions tell you that they've experienced too much. What the hell is going on here?
  
  You go and speak to a guard watching them all, and ask him who these people are. His reply is to let out a dry chuckle. "What, haven't been to this city in a while? These are the unfortunate bastards who were denied access to our fair city. Refugees and the like from the war with Kishak. Mostly natives to our kingdom, couple of Kishak bastards here and there."
  
  "Is there any reason the Count of this city has it closed off?" you ask. His response is to laugh again.
  
  "There's an entry fee, two hundred gold coins. They," he gestures to the camp, "couldn't cover it. Poor bastards, left to rot out here."
  
  What the hell? They couldn't pay some fee, so now they're locked from entering the city? At the very least you can pay it, but you suppose the question remains if you can just walk on by these people.
  > yeah you can. You'll continue onwards.
  You nod to the guard, gritting your teeth slightly. "Good thing I have enough gold then." He lets out another bark of laughter, then waves you on, not bothering to reply. Likewise, you continue on without another word, closer to the stone steps of the city.
  
  Approaching the stone steps, you can finally make out the statue you had seen earlier. To your surprise, the statue depicts you. While you never wore the shining armor they present you in, and the sword is far to small to be your own, the facial features are too similar for it to be anyone else. Looking it over, you see that it's covered in bird dung, and there are many chips and cracks in the marble.
  
  You clutch your hand tightly. Of course, the statue couldn't have depicted anyone else. Couldn't have been the king, couldn't have been the count, couldn't have even been some sort of God. It had to be you. Taking in a breath and releasing the death grip you have on your palm, you push on past the statue and up to the steps. A guard stands there gripping a spear. Behind him is a large oak door, leading into the city proper.
  
  He blinks at you and lets out a mix between a yawn and a sigh, before speaking, "Two hundred gold for entrance into the city, sir."
  
  You pull out your bag and rifle through it, before handing him four pieces of gold, each worth fifty. He counts them out, even chews on one to ensure its authenticity, before nodding. "Very good, sir. Welcome to Sodran." He pushes the doors open, and lets you through.
  
  Stepping into the city, you find that it's grown substantially since your last visit to it. Large buildings rise high into the sky, faded signs declaring what they're all for. People bustle through the streets, going about their own business, while merchants hawk their wares. Guards stand at every corner, keeping a watchful eye on the citizens. Shady looking people hang around alleyway entrances; unconsciously, you keep a tighter grip on your coin purse.
  
  So much to do, so little time. But I suppose the question I should be asking is if you wish to do something about the state of the city, or if you're just here to explore.
  > you're heading right for the Count's manor. You're going to do something for those refugees.
  You might not have tried getting the refugees to rise up, but you can fight this battle without having to put innocent lives at risk. This Count of Sodran guy. You've never heard of him, considering the last time you were here the title was still "mayor". It doesn't matter who he's supposed to be, because you know that he's not doing this city any good.
  
  Dipping through the crowds of people, you climb a set of stone stairs up to what appears to be a park overlooking the entire city. Hugging the north wall in the distance is a manor, taking up damn near an entire block and looming over the city streets. That's got to be the Count's manor. Nodding to yourself, you begin to make your way to it.
  
  Along the way, you spy a few guards cornering a man in butcher's clothes. The butcher is an older man, with thinning hair and a physique reminiscent of a skeleton. Sweat drips down his brow, and he gives the guards an uneasy look. "I-I swear, I'll pay the Count! I just need another week! Please, this shop's all I got left!"
  
  One of the guards gives him a nasty grin. "Well ya shoulda thought 'bout that 'fore ya gotta loan. The Count don't take too kindly to old weasels who don't cough up what they owe." He brings his fist up to the butcher's gut, causing the older man to fall to his knees. Then, the guard backhands him to the floor. "Ya got till the end of the day to get that money." With those words, the guards walk away.
  
  It takes all your willpower to not fly into a frenzy and attack them. Instead, you wait until they've moved on, then approach the butcher who's regaining his footing after the attack. "How much?" you ask.
  
  "What?" the butcher replies, looking at you suspiciously.
  
  "How much do you owe?"
  
  "Five hundred. I needed a loan of one hundred to pay for my daughter's medicine... But she died even with it." The butcher pauses to wipe away a tear threatening to escape his eye. "... I try to pay the Count back, but he keeps raising the price, further and further... I can't keep up. At this rate, I'll lose my business."
  
  "Sorry to hear about that." You pull out your coin purse, then throw him a handful of gold coins worth one hundred gold each. "Take these. Gather everyone you care about and leave. You don't want to be around for what I'm going to do."
  
  The butcher looks frightened by that, but nods, accepting the money gladly and quickly rushing off. You watch him go, then release a sigh through gritted teeth. When you came here, you were hoping to be able to resolve this issue using diplomacy. It was never your strong suit, but your fame, much as you hate it, would be useful in this situation.
  
  Now, though? You're going to kill this Count, or die trying.
  
  It's an hour and several similar incidents later that you finally arive at the gates of the Count's manor. A few guards mill about the front, and you draw their attention by pounding against the steel gate. One of them approaches, staring at you with a nasty grin. It's the one from earlier, with the butcher. "Well? Whaddya want?" he asks.
  
  "I'm here to see the Count," you reply.
  
  "Really? The Count don't let no middle-aged bums in to see 'im. Get lost!" He spits in your face.
  
  You keep your rage contained, gritting your teeth and giving him a toothy smile. His grin falters. "Tell him that it's Lord Kit of Droburg. You know. The guy on that statue outside."
  
  He gives a nervous chuckle. "O-oh, you're Lord Kit, eh? How do I know you're telling the truth?"
  
  "Because if you don't let me in, I'll cleave you in half."
  
  Between your expression, the threat, and the fact that you haven't even bothered to wipe off the saliva that's starting to drip down your cheek, the guard is thoroughly terrified. "R-right, apologies Lord Kit, I'll let you in..." He opens the gate slowly. The creak of metal against stone splits through your ears. Your hand itches, begging for you to unsheathe your sword.
  
  You do.
  
  You reach up and grab your blade off your back as soon as the gate is open wide enough for you to walk through. With a swing, you slice through the guard's waist, the force sending his torso flying high into the air as he lets out an ungodly scream. His torso meets the floor with a meaty thud. He's still alive for only a few moments, gasping for air as blood leaks out of his mouth. Then, he lets out his last breath.
  
  The other guards are quick to notice their fallen comrade. None of them carry ranged weaponry, just swords, axes, and batons. They all begin to run at you, weapons raised. Judging by your quick assessment of the odds, it's fourteen to one. Despite yourself, you can feel the sadistic grin on your face widen.
  
  This will be too easy.
  
  A primal yell bursts out of your throat, and you rush forward to meet the guards head on. It's easy enough to deflect a few blows, and with each swing you bring at least two men out of the fight. It doesn't last long, and within minutes, the manor's courtyard is covered in blood, guts, and corpses.
  
  You enter the manor, sparing but a glance to the carnage you left behind.
  > continue
  You fight your way through the manor to the great hall, where you expect the Count will be. When you reach it, however, you find it empty. The Count must be elsewhere. So, you continue to hack and slash your way through, checking every room in an attempt to find the bastard.
  
  It's only after a dozen men have died and you yourself have suffered several wounds that you find him. He's sitting calmly in his study, reading a book, perhaps unaware of the fighting that had been going on outside. You readjust your grip on your sword, then bark, "Hey!"
  
  He looks up, sighs, then slips a ribbon into the book on the page he was on. Shutting it and placing it down on a table, the Count stands, and gives you a small smile. "My apologies. I got so absorbed with my reading, I must not have heard you." He stands a good few inches below you, dressed in fine silk clothing with various pieces of jewelry adorning his body. Truly, he's a pompous asshole.
  
  You stare at him in disbelief. "Deaf and corrupt, huh?"
  
  He frowns. "Whatever do you mean?"
  
  You grit your teeth so hard you feel like they might crack. "You've been running this city into the ground long enough. I didn't save this Goddamn world so its rulers could become just as bad as the man I saved it from." You raise your sword, point it at him. "I'm going to cut you down."
  
  The Count looks confused for a moment, and he studies your face. Then, it clicks, and he sighs. "Lord Kit, is it? I see. So you've finally decided to come out of retirement. I knew this day would come." He turns his back on you and approaches his bookshelf. Picking one out, he turns it over in his hands, then shows it to you. The cover is faded, but the words clear as day.
  
  It reads "Sir Kit Against Alistair".
  
  "This was one of my favorite books, y'know. You seemed so pure, so flawless." He flips through it a bit. "But it's clear that reality is far from the truth. How much blood have you shed today?"
  
  "I cut down dozens of your guards to reach you."
  
  "Ah. It would seem you live up to the tales in that regard then." He turns the book over more, before placing it back. "Let's test another aspect of those tales. It was said that Alistair tried to tempt you with unlimited power, but you turned it down. Was that true?"
  
  You snort. "Of course not. As soon as Grace and I entered that throne room of his, we were fighting for our lives. No time for words."
  
  "So it would seem. But if he did offer you that power, would you have accepted?"
  
  You're not sure how to respond.
  
  The Count smiles. "I'll make you an offer. I'm very talented in... Certain aspects of magic. You miss your friends, no?" He snaps his fingers, and a portal is opened to you. What's inside you can hardly believe.
  
  Your friends. All of them. Henry, strumming his lute. Thomas, sharpening his daggers. Lilith, reading holy scriptures... And Grace, sitting there and playing with fire as she always did.
  
  You reach out to them, let out a yell of pure shock and happiness despite yourself. A mixture of awe and sheer joy making its way onto your face. It's them! They're alive! By the Gods, they're alive, like they should be!
  
  Then, the portal closes. You shift back towards the Count, having forgotten he was even there. He gives you an enigmatic smile. "It seems that seeing your companions again got a reaction. I can take you to them again. You can relive your quest, make things right."
  
  Your voice is shaky as you reply, "You're... You're not planning anything? I can fix things... Right?"
  
  "That you can. But only if you spare me."
  > accept in a heartbeat. You need to bring them back!
  In an instant you reply, "Yes! Yes! For the love of the Gods, let me make things right! Please!"
  
  His smile widens. "I was hoping you'd say that." The portal is summoned again... Only this time, your friends on the other side notice it, too. They approach it, staring in awe.
  
  "What in the world...?" Henry asks, staring through. He spots you, and points. "Woah, guys, doesn't that look like Kit?"
  
  Thomas lets out a derisive snort. "Can't be. Too old. Then again, we just saw a crazy ass portal open up before our eyes, so it could be."
  
  Lilith places a hand on her heart and takes in a few deep breaths. Then, she speaks, "I think... This might be a portal to the future. I wonder...?"
  
  Grace is staring at you. Those big, brown eyes staring into your own grey ones. Searching for something. Whatever it is, it seems she's found it.
  
  She reaches for you. You approach her, taking her hand. Her other hand reaches up to touch your face.
  
  "You look tired, Kit," she says, and you let out a laugh, because you know it's true.
  
  "I sure as shit am."
  
  The portal closes behind you as you step through it fully.
  
  Then, everything is fire.
  
  One by one they fade away. Your eyes widen in shock. What the hell? You look down, and find that your clothes are igniting, your flesh is slowly peeling and melting off the skin.
  
  You do the logical thing and scream in sheer agony.
  
  You scream until all the air has left your lungs, and even then, you're trying to with all your might. It is only after your lungs and larynx have been fried to a crisp that you can't even attempt to scream. There is only fire, faint voices, and silhouettes you can't even see.
  
  There's laughter in the distance. Then, a booming voice all around you.
  
  "Welcome to Hell, hero."
  
  THE END