Even this early in the morning, the sun's rays were as strong as ever, and the sudden heat that hit Veger as he stepped outside nearly knocked him over. Making a mental note to stay in the shade as much as possible, he closed the door behind him and walked down the steps.

The neighbor's tethered Leaper Lizard looked at him curiously, and Veger made sure to stay well out of its reach. He continued down the street, which soon opened up into a large open space. There were a few buildings standing independently of the stone perimeter, and he could see the stairs leading to the Arena.

Suddenly, Veger wished he'd thought to read about the funeral plans. They were likely to include something about the monks performing a memorial service, and it might have mentioned something that would help him find the monastery. It was too late now, though, with the door closed and locked behind him. Instead, Veger chose to walk counter-clockwise around the perimeter, as that was where the shade was at the moment.

Most of the buildings he passed seemed to be residences, or small shops run out of someone's residence. There was a group of children of all ages, from kindergarteners to near-adults, entering one of the smaller buildings out in the middle and Veger realized that it was likely a schoolhouse. It might have been styled after one of the outdated all-grades-in-one-room schoolhouses of the distant past, but the fact that there was any kind of academic institution out here appealed to the scholar in him, and a he smiled briefly.

Only briefly, however, because he had not been watching where he was going and had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping Leaper Lizard's tail. It woke with a snarl and snapped at him. He cried out in surprise and took off on all fours. When he was safe from its wrath, he realized what he was doing and immediately slid to a stop before standing again. He would have to try even harder to resist his newfound beastly impulses.

The rest of Veger's search in that section of the city turned up nothing, and soon it was time to go to the western section. He paused at the entrance to the cavern. What if he ran into Sig or one of his guards in there? Of course, if he didn't risk it, he'd never find the monastery.

Steeling himself, Veger entered the cavern. There were homes here, too, and Veger kept an eye out for any kind of signage that might identify a monastery. Or, he would have, had he not heard the elevator hit the ground the and doors open.

Without looking to see who it was, Veger dashed into the crawlspace underneath someone's porch. He felt something crawl over his hand, and he had to bite his lip to keep from shrieking like a little girl. It was a spider, and he didn't know whether it was poisonous or not. He wasn't going to wait to find out and, grabbing a rock, smashed it.

Pain shot up his arm, but it was worth it to take another vile creature off of this earth. Except he had missed and the spider, none the wiser, continued on its way. Veger blew on his self-inflicted injury and vowed to kill every spider he came across for the rest of his life. His plans for a lifelong vendetta against arachnids vanished when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs above him, along with voices.

"I swear, he's scheduling these things specifically so I can't make it to the vote."

"Oh come on, you know that's a steaming load. If he didn't want you to put in your two cents, he wouldn't be giving you alternative ways to do so."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think all that time he spent in Haven's gone to his head, made him soft. Next thing ya know he'll be wanting us to be chums with 'em."

Oh, you have no idea, Veger thought. He snuck a peek out from his hiding place. The two men he'd heard he didn't recognize, but he guessed at least one of them was an alderman. They were heading to the eastern section of the city, and as he looked around, he found that whoever had left the palace wasn't around anymore.

Since the coast was clear, Veger darted out of his hiding spot (on two legs) and into the next part of the city. From the mouth of the cave, he could feel the wind coming off the ocean and smell the salt in the air. Having never been to the beach before, it was unfamiliar, and yet soothing. Those "sea breeze" scented soaps simply didn't do it justice.

Veger glanced back and forth. He wasn't sure which way to go, but that soon became a non-issue when he spotted a group of monks down the hill around a large building, the largest independent structure he'd yet seen.

Bingo. Veger ran as fast as his legs would carry him towards the monastery. As he drew closer, he saw that the monks were standing outside, facing the ocean, and seemed to be doing some kind of yogic exercise. There was a melodic, low hum, and as Veger listened, he recognized it as a chant in the ancient Precursor language. Seem, as the head monk, was leading their meditation.

The ottsel sat down next to the stairs, in the shade, and watched. If he remembered his studies of ancient Precurian correctly, this chant was one of gratitude for all that existed: the land, sea, and sky, the plants and animals, happiness, light, love, yadda yadda yadda. He didn't know what the forms they were practicing meant, or if they were even anything more than stretches.

After what seemed like hours, the monks finally finished their exercises. The group split into several and went their separate ways to attend to the day's work. Seem was amongst those that were heading into the monastery. Veger waited until he heard the door close before moving. He knocked on the door and waited. Eventually, someone opened the door a crack.

"Speak." There was no mistaking that voice.

"Seem, it's me."

The door opened farther and Seem stepped out, looking down at him. Veger knew she wouldn't have been thrilled to see him, but he didn't think she would have looked at him with such contempt when next they spoke.

"Why are you here?" She certainly didn't want to put up with him for longer than necessary.

"I need your help," Veger said.

"You needed my help before, too," she replied coolly. "You used my help to further your own selfish plans and make others suffer."

"I am a Precursor, and you will help me!" Veger snarled, trying a different tactic.

"I will do no such thing. You may have the form of the Precursors, but that is all you have. You do not have their powers, or else you would not need my help." Seem stepped back and started to close the door. "Nor do you have their purity of heart, or you would have been taken with them."

Before the door could latch, Veger stuck his foot in the doorway to catch it. An old trick, but one that worked. Seem glared down at him.

Veger looked up at her, shoulders slumped in defeat. "Please," he said desperately, "I'm in grave danger, Seem, and you're my only hope. Please, please hear me out."

Seem continued glaring at him for a moment, before sighing. She looked at him sadly. "I am sorry, but I cannot. You betrayed my trust. You betrayed the people of Haven. You betrayed Damas. Given the opportunity, you would betray the people of Spargus. Even Kleiver, who has offered you sanctuary."

Veger tried to object, but Seem did not allow herself to be interrupted.

"Everything you have done, you have done for yourself. You only claim it was for others to spare your own conscience. Your pride has caused the Precursors to see fit to punish you this way. Whatever befalls you from now on, it is what you deserve.

"If you are fated to die here, you have only yourself to blame. If you are fated to live, it is up to you, and no one else, to see to it that you survive. Prove yourself to have the strength of a Wastelander, prove yourself to be worthy of the body you now possess, and redeem yourself. Otherwise..."

Seem knelt down and kissed the top of his head before gently forcing him to back up.

"May the Precursors have mercy on you." With a click, the door closed.

Veger stared at the door, unsure of what to do. He had been so focused on getting here, on finding Seem, that it had never occurred to him to think of something to do if she refused to help him. Of course, the thought that she would refuse to help him never crossed his mind.

Slowly, Veger turned and walked toward the ocean. More and more people seemed to be out and about now, and none of them looked his way, despite the fact that he wasn't even trying to hide. When he got to the beach, he found a rock outcropping and sat in its shadow.

Alone. He was all alone, now. No one could help him. No... anyone could help him. The problem was that no one would. He had alienated everyone he'd met, even his allies. His friends. Seem was right, he had betrayed everyone who had ever cared about or depended on him. He was only out for himself, and if a few people were saved by monsters, great. If a few people were crushed by a falling palace, oh well.

Veger squeezed his eyes shut as tears started to spill. Why was he even trying to survive? What did he have to live for? He'd never married, never had a child. Everyone in his family was dead, or might as well have been. He'd never had many friends, and most of them he'd lost contact with or outright broken off ties with. The rest had since died, some through his own actions. His life's work had crumbled to dust around him. His things would end up thrown out or donated to whoever could use them. His apartment would be rented out once the lease was up, if not sooner. He didn't even have a pet waiting for him at home. He literally had nothing left.

Through blurry, wet eyes, Veger looked up at the tall rock at the water's edge, upon which sat a turret. If he fell from there, he would crack his head open on the rocks. If he didn't bleed out, he would drown in the ocean. He'd never survive a fall from that rock...

"Bunny!"

Startled, Veger looked towards the voice. Two small children, one who was on the cusp of being school age, and one who was merely a toddler, were looking at him.

The little one spoke again. "Bunny!"

"He's so cuuuuuute!" his older sister squealed. "Hi, bunny! Are you lost?"

Veger shifted away from them. This was the last thing he needed right now, two barbarian brats to decide he would be a fitting target for their burgeoning murder skills. The older one looked like she favored blunt objects, judging from the baseball bat in her hand.

"Aw, you look sad. Are you sad? Do you want some candy?" the little girl reached into her pocket and held out a piece of dried, sugar-coated fruit.

The ottsel stared at it. It was covered in lint, but that wasn't why he was staring. He was staring in disbelief. This little girl, born of vicious criminals and raised amongst them... was offering him candy? Just because she thought he needed cheering up?

"N... no, thank you," he murmured hoarsely.

The little girl gasped loudly. "You can talk? Cooool! Say something else! Say... say 'boogers'!"

Veger almost laughed. She was just any little kid. Inquisitive, fascinated by the world around her, easily amused. Give her some messy red hair and a squirt gun and he could have been looking at a 4-year-old Ashelin. Give her brother some green hair and blue overalls and he could have been looking at...

"I... I'd rather not," Veger said.

"Awwww, you're no fun," she pouted.

"I'm a grown-up, I'm not supposed to be fun." Veger got to his feet and wiped his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have to leave."

"Where are you going?" the girl asked.

"... Home," Veger lied. What else was he supposed to tell her? That he was pretty much just waiting to die?

"Okay... Will you be back tomorrow?" she smiled. "I've never met a talking bunny, and I wanna tell all my friends!"

"I don't think so, dear. And I'm not a bunny."

"Oh... Then what are you?"

"That's a good question..." he murmured. Without another word, he headed down the street, leaving the little girl and her brother to stare at his back.

"Bye-bye bunny!" the toddler giggled.

Goodbye, children. Goodbye, world...

"There ya are! I was wonderin' where ya'd wandered off to!"

Veger passed through the door, walked past Kleiver, and climbed into his chair from this morning. To his surprise, his breakfast plate was not where he'd left it, but a new bowl filled with stew was in its place.

"It's been sittin' there awhile, so it's prob'ly cold, but don' expect me to warm it up for ya. If ya wanted a warm lunch, ya shoulda been here." Kleiver waited for Veger to complain that he hadn't been told when lunch time was, or that he had no way of telling the time anyway, so how could he have known to come back? But the ottsel was silent. Kleiver tilted his head slightly. "'Ey, what's yer problem? Got sand in yer ears?"

Veger didn't move. "I read the letter."

Silence. He heard Kleiver shift his weight from one foot to the other. Veger expected him to yell at him for snooping through his mail, especially when he'd been specifically instructed to not touch his stuff. But instead, all he got was:

"... Yeah? So?"

"So..." Veger turned to face his roommate. "My time is up. I'm out of options. Frankly, I'm surprised Sig isn't here to personally throw me out of the city. Or has he given the honor to you, and this," he indicated the stew, "is just more of your cruelty?"

Kleiver shook his head. "Ya got a lot to learn about the Wastelanders, mate." Kleiver walked over and sat down in another chair. "Look, I was gonna wait 'til ya'd had yer lunch 'fore I told ya, but since ya already know the first part o' the story..."

The Wastelander leaned back in his chair and pulled out a flask (where had he been keeping it?). After taking a gulp, he started his story. "Yeah, Sig wanted ya gone. Still does. But 'e's more'n Jak's mate now, y'know? 'E's Damas's hand-picked successor. 'E can't go 'round tossing people 'e doesn't like into the Wasteland. B'lieve it or not, we got a code, and we follow it.

"When I went to meet 'im, Sig asked me 'ow much I really knew 'boutcha. So I told 'im, 'Bloke used to be a big-shot over in Haven, then got changed like the blonde girl. Killed a buncha folks, from what I 'ear. Got unofficially kicked out, prob'ly woulda been made official eventually.' And the wanker looks at me like 'e's surprised I did me 'omework. Then 'e says, 'You're Jak's friend, aren't you?' an' I go 'Wouldn't call 'im a friend, but I respect the bugger. Don' mean I'm gonna 'bandon the Wastelander way for 'im.'

"That got 'im right pissed, it did. 'You sayin' I'm turnin' my back on our values?' he goes, an' I say 'Mate, you toss the rat out 'cause 'e done wrong, yer doin' jus' what them blighters in Haven do.' Then 'e's got the nerve to bring Damas into it, sayin' 'Damas wouldn't show mercy to the guy that-' but I wouldn't let 'im finish. 'Damas would let 'im earn 'is place,' I said. I said, 'Damas was all 'bout giving second chances. Damas wouldn't let it get personal. That's why 'e was our leader.'

"Then 'e kinda sighs, like 'e thinks I's right, which I was. Finally, 'e goes 'Ya know that most of Spargus would love to see 'im put to death fer sendin' 'em out 'ere to die, right?' An' I go 'I know, I ran into some of 'em already.' Then he says 'Ya really think ya can protect 'im from a city-wide lynch mob?' An' I say 'I don' gotta protect 'im from anythin'.'

"... At least, that's what I wanted to say. I remembered what ya'd tol' me this morning, so I knew it was only a matter o' time 'til the Faimas came after ya, or 'til word got 'round. So's I said 'So whaddya wan' me to do? Give 'im to you so 'e can die out there 'stead o' in here?' He turns it 'round and says 'Whaddya want me to do?' An' I think for a minute, 'cause I honestly 'ad no idea.

"I 'ate to admit it, but it was 'im what finally thoughta the answer. He says 'Ya really think Damas'd let 'im be a Wastelander? Fine, then. If ya bring 'im 'ere and get 'im to pledge 'is loyalty to Spargus in fron' o' me an' the rest o' the aldermen, I'll give 'im the chance to earn 'is citizenship. 'E'd never win an Arena fight, so I'll think o' somethin' 'e stands a chance in 'Ell of survivin'. That soun' fair?'

"So that's it. Durin' the meetin' next week, I'm bringin' ya to swear yer 'legiance to Spargus and 'er people. Then it's just a matter o' findin' someway fer ya to earn yer citizenship like the rest of us did."

Kleiver took another drink from his flask to wet his throat after his narrative. Veger stared at him, unable to decide how he felt about it. On the one hand, how could he swear fealty to a city he loathed? Would they even believe him? And it was no guarantee of safety, only that the government of Spargus wouldn't take action against him. All it would do is give him a little extra time.

On the other hand, he was getting a little extra time. Minutes ago, he thought he was as good as dead. Now he had a chance. A slim one, admittedly, but a chance nonetheless. A chance for what? He didn't know. Redemption? Survival? Did he even want either of those things?

"What're you staring off into space fer? You ain't seriously thinkin' of sayin' no, are ya?" Kleiver asked. "An' after I spent all mornin' making that damn bed..."

Veger blinked at him. He'd... he'd really done that? For him?

The ottsel looked down at his stew and saw his own reflection staring back at him. He hadn't seen himself since he'd changed, and though he looked a mess, he didn't immediately cringe away from the sight of his own face. Taking the spoon, he swirled it around in the stew. When the broth settled, his reflection reappeared, and something had changed. He looked determined.

Did he want to live?

"Yes," he murmured, almost too quietly for his companion to hear. He brought a spoonful of stew to his mouth. It was lukewarm at best, and had far too many spices, but it didn't make him gag.

"Yes, what?" Kleiver asked.

Veger looked his companion fiercely in the eye. "Yes, I will go with you to that meeting, and yes, I will promise my loyalty to Spargus."

Kleiver grinned. "You've got some fight in ya, ratface. We'll make a Wastelander outta you, yet."

Veger looked back at his stew. Not if I have anything to say about it.