Before we begin, I want to take the time to say I hope everyone is staying safe with all that's going on right now. If there's anyone out there reading this who has been participating in the protests going on at the time of posting this chapter, know that you have my full support. Stay safe, and continue to fight for what you believe in. You deserve better. So make them do better.


Chapter 35: Dangerous Looks

It's dark when I wake up, and to my surprise I seem to have been moved into an actual room. Haven't been in a real building since we left Ferox. What's more, I seem to be in a real bed as well. This is a night for luxuries, isn't it?

I've been laid on my stomach, but when I stretch out experimentally I find that my back is no longer in pain. Lissa or Maribelle must have healed me up at some point. And they are probably quite thankful that it didn't take anything extensive. I imagine I'm starting to gain something of a reputation. As it is though I've been left with nothing but a nice bed and a basin to wash up in.

I look around the room for a moment to see if there's anyone nearby, but the room seems to be empty for the moment. That being said, I do hear conversation elsewhere in the building, and there's a faint light from under the door. I feel much better than I did when I passed out in Stahl's arms earlier, so I figure I might as well investigate.

There's definitely a problem with that though. I'm dressed only in a pair of trousers at the moment, and there's no sign of a shirt in sight. The clothes I was wearing were probably shredded by that final tumble in the sand (making me very glad I wasn't wearing any of my stuff from earth). And nobody seems to have thought to bring a spare.

In a lot of ways my issues with taking my shirt off around other people have changed for the better. I used to despise the idea, back when my weight was an issue. Unlike what apparently happened with my alternate universe self, I seem to have rather thoroughly rid myself of the gut I had when I first arrived. That feeling of disgust I always used to have when I stared at my body for too long in the mirror has all but vanished as I became, objectively speaking, totally jacked.

…And yet it was replaced by an entirely different and only marginally better set of body image issues. The gut is gone because I was all but starved for a solid month, and actually starved for two weeks after that while I was on magical life-support. So not being fat anymore is accompanied by its own sense of shame at the extreme methods that proved necessary in slimming down. And of course, I still have thick cords of scar tissue covering my torso and arm which never fail to draw attention those few times I can't manage to get time alone to bathe.

So yeah, walking out into a potentially crowded room without a shirt on is still a far from appealing idea to me. If I could I'd skip it altogether, but I really do want to find out what's happening. Get some news on how everyone else is doing. Eat something, because I haven't had much of anything to eat since breakfast this morning and had a whole lot of strenuous activity after that. So I guess I'll just have to suffer the discomfort and head out there.

…Need to take care of some, let's say… pressing business first though.

Thankfully all my time exploring with the others earlier today is enough that I'm able to guess more or less where I am. Pretty sure this is a large tavern not far from the square, if I'm recognizing the scenery outside my window correctly. Which means my destination shouldn't be very far at all.

I open the door to my room cautiously, not wanting to draw attention just yet. Seems to be a long hallway, with a couple rooms for storage and the like. And one lone door opposite those storage rooms leading out the back of the building. Just what I was hoping for. I move away from the sound of merrymaking out in the main tavern, and head out the back.

From there it only takes a few brief turns for me to find my destination: the outhouse. Probably could have found a closer one if I asked somebody, but with all the noise everyone is making I'm sure they'd keep me trapped for hours if they found out I'm awake. There's a great many Shepherds who put partying above common sense. And the Feroxi tend to somehow be even worse.

A few minutes later I conclude my business and start to make my way back to the tavern, looking to grab a bite to eat and get some news on how today's disaster of a mission wrapped up. Before I can return to the tavern though, a noise catches my attention. Wings.

I look around in the direction the sound came from, but see nothing there. The streets behind the tavern are empty at the moment. Rooftops, maybe? But no, there's no sign of anything there, either. A wyvern rider seems unlikely, since our presence in this town means the Feroxi army will have posted guards, and it's a very bright night between the moon and the desert sands.

Maybe I just heard a Griffon? The Feroxi army is using a ton of them, after all. I turn back to the tavern door, ready to head inside and greet the others already.

Wings start flapping again, almost frantically. I hear a croaking call from behind me. I look back again and this time I'm able to spot the source: a lone crow perched on a wall top nearby.

"Oh, hey there little guy." I blink in surprise. The crow hops about a little bit on its perch, looking almost pleased to have caught my attention. Very well might be, I suppose. Crows are incredibly smart animals, after all. Part of why I've always liked them. And this one is an absolute beauty.

I approach the crow slowly at first, deciding to see how much leeway I can get with its attention on me. After a few cautious steps with the bird's only reaction being a sort of expectant look, I quicken my pace a little. Just as I get within arm's reach though it flies away, landing further down the wall. It stares at me with that same look once more, and I realize: this bird wants me to follow.

And I, knowing full well the sort of folks in this world who have an affinity for crows, decide immediately to follow.

The past 24 hours have made it abundantly clear that Severa's absence at the moment is something of a blessing, because if she were here to see me she'd probably kill me. Running shirtless through a Plegian town in the middle of the night, chasing a crow… hoping to meet a dark mage with a penchant for murder.

But it's only right I go to speak with him. After all, I was the one who wrote the letter.

By the time the crow comes to a stop I've run half the length of town. I'm pretty much a complete wreck by then, being still on the mend after the chaos from earlier today, and really wishing I'd grabbed something to eat before chasing crows around in the middle of the night. I find myself standing wearily in an alleyway, hidden away from the moon.

The darkness here is stifling, covering everything in an inky blackness that runs so deep I can barely even see my own hands in front of me. The street I entered from is more like a ghostly image of a town than anything concrete, with streets bathed in a pale, faint glow. Up ahead of me there is a similar effect, making the alleyway seem abandoned by life and light itself. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but the mood really is quite creepy.

The only clue I have that I've reached the right place is the murder of crows perched here. The single crow I followed was part of a very large family, it seems. They stand sentinel along the edge of the rooftops, the walls, and even the crates scattered about. The shadows seem to rise around them, shrouding them in darkness save for the gleam of sharp beaks and watchful eyes. They shine in the dark alley, the only visible thing within this pitch darkness, like a sea of stars floating in the shadows.

"Eesh…" I look around uncomfortably. "I like crows more than the average person probably does around here, but this might be a bit much for my comfort level."

A sharp peal of laughter rings throughout the alleyway, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Aww, what's the matter? Are my friends caw-sing you trouble?" A figure rises out of the darkness in front of me, identifiable only by the silhouette they cast against the distant street behind them. "Nya-ha-ha! I would have expected somebody with a nickname like 'The Butcher' to have more backbone!"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I reply, watching the shadow warily.

"Yes… I suppose you are!" The voice continues to echo. "That's a good point, most people would have run away screaming by now."

"Glad to hear you agree." I grin nervously. "After all the trouble I went to getting in contact with you, I'd hate to hear I had disappointed you so soon."

"No kidding! If I came all this way just to find out you were some kind of bore, I'd have been really upset! I don't know what I'd do…" The silhouette seems to twitch in front of me.

"So… I've passed your test?" I squint suspiciously. "You're not going to try anything… shady."

"Shady? You mean… like this?" The shadow twitches again, and I slide into a ready stance in case he's about to try something. Before I can even think of doing anything though, the shadow suddenly explodes. I stare in shock for a moment before a flurry of falling feathers reveals what happened. I was never facing a person, it was just more crows the whole time! How the fuck did he even arrange that!?

The laughter begins anew, this time accompanied by the raucous cawing of dozens of crows. The air is filled with noise, and I feel myself growing nervous as I look around to try to find where the source of the voice really is. My clue comes too late for me to react, in the glow of a spell from behind me. I whirl around just as a ball of fire is summoned into being, revealing the speaker finally.

Henry of the Grimleal, one of the most talented dark mages in Plegia, and by far the most unhinged. My first thought: he's young. Younger even than I would have expected. I suppose that's because I'm seeing him a full two years sooner than his first appearance in the game. He looks to be about Donnel's age at the moment. Though that's rather hard to say for sure since I'm gauging this based on what little I can see in the firelight.

Unlike in the game, his eyes are already open fully, gleaming sharply in the dark. His frame is small, but he still seems to loom out of the darkness. The fire cupped in his palm dances merrily, bright enough that the moonlit street behind him seems to fade until all I can see is the slasher grin that stretches almost unnaturally wide across his face, framed by almost ghostly wisps of white hair.

My hands snap up as I see the fire cupped in his hand, and the faint purple glow of the tome he holds at his side. Apparently he's more interested in entertainment than conversation at the moment. Alright, if I can dodge the first shot I should be able to pin him for long enough to make him listen. That is, provided the crows don't attack me. But if the crows do decide to attack then my chances of survival are literally zero. I'll be demoted to an extra in a Hitchcock film before you can say 'Bodega Bay'.

To my surprise though, rather than throw the fireball at me, Henry simply nods in approval. "There, much easier to talk when we can see each other, isn't it?"

I nod hesitantly, still watching uneasily as Henry grins at me. "Oh don't get all worked up. I'm not going to just kill you without hearing you out first. I may like killing, but I'm not uncivilized!" He pauses at that, thinking to himself. "Well, not completely. Nya-ha-ha!"

I lower my arms, trying to force my body out of fight mode. "Right… Sorry about that." I give a smile that I don't at all feel. "Had more than a few close calls with Dark Mages today. I'm sure you understand."

"I do!" Henry nods eagerly. "That was a ton of fun! I was curious to see how you'd get out of that situation, but I never expected all that! The sled, and the yelling, and those spells! I thought you'd just start cutting them up!"

"The magic is a new trick." I shrug uncomfortably. "Cutting people is still what I'm best at. Spells are useful when they're all clumped up like that though." Also because the cutting still makes me feel very uncomfortable, but I feel like Henry wouldn't appreciate hearing that.

"They are! And that old guy was really good with the rocks! I swear he made somebody's head explode! Just, POW, and there was brains all over the guy next to him. It was amazing!"

"That must have been a sight." I reply, nodding slowly.

"One of the best deaths I've ever seen!" Henry grins eagerly. "That whole chase was great, especially the part where your friends came and chopped all the Grimleal to pieces! It was so brutal!"

Brutal is a word for it. And Henry's eager recounting of events reminds me that I still don't know how Gaius and the others are doing. I passed out before I had a chance to find out what even happened to Vaike, Lon'qu, and Gregor. And who knows if Maribelle's stubbornness was enough to really save Gaius. He was in such rough shape earlier…

I think it's time to stop being friendly (whatever passes for 'friendly' with this kid) and get to business.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that my efforts today proved adequate entertainment to you." I nod curtly. "And glad to see you finally. After all this time I thought my letter might not have reached you."

"Oh, it reached me!" Henry's grin takes on a dangerous aura as he tilts his head, regarding me out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm very curious how you knew I could be reached through General Mustafa, by the way."

A few scraps of dialogue I remember from the game, that's how. "I did my research." I shrug. "Enough to learn a thing or two about you, and know that you're exactly the sort of man I need."

"Wow!" Henry gasps in genuine awe. "I read it in your letter, but I didn't really believe it. Ben the Butcher wants my help! I can't believe it! When I saw your title at the bottom of that message I got so happy I thought I was going to explode!" He throws his hands up into the air enthusiastically in demonstration.

And this, right here, is why I decided to send a letter to Henry. In order to make this shitty plan of mine work I need a capable ally. One who can be where I need them without raising questions. One whose actions are often overlooked. One who preferably has no ties to Ylisse or Regna Ferox.

Out of everyone I thought of, Henry was the most obvious choice. His attitude is twisted enough that he can act as eccentric as he wants without drawing suspicion. His loyalty is, thanks to my knowledge of this world, already known to be tenuous at best. And most importantly, I had very strong suspicions that I could use that fucked up reputation I've gained to draw him in. Plus, his only known friend in all of Plegia is General Mustafa, who I recall to be one of the more honorable men in all of Plegia. Which means contacting him has considerably lower risk than it would be trying to draw anyone else in, ironically enough. Whatever connection Mustafa has to Henry I'm fairly confident he won't do anything to put the kid's life at risk, and that certainly includes reporting on mysterious letters from known enemies.

My second choice would have been Laurent, but I'm not sure how to get in contact with him, and he's far too close to Lucina. Even if I could convince him to go along with my plan (something I'm by no means confident in as is), she would never approve. Hell, she'd hate this plan even if she didn't have a mysterious grudge against me.

Yeah, that's another big point in Henry's favor. A nearly complete absence of morality. He's a sadistic psychopath who kills for pleasure. The sort of person who isn't likely to give a shit about even the most fucked up parts of my plan. That removes one of the bigger difficulties in carrying out a fucked up scheme. It can be difficult as hell to find somebody capable and willing to help make it happen.

So now I need to get Henry on board. "I see my reputation precedes me."

"Oh yes, I've heard all sorts of stories." Henry nods eagerly. "The time you massacred a hundred slavers in Ferox! Or that you killed the High Priest of the Grimleal single-handedly during the attack on Ylisstol! The survivors from today are already talking about that thing you did with the fire."

"And no doubt it will be exaggerated to a similarly ludicrous extent before long." I roll my eyes, more annoyed with the rumors at this point than anything. "Let's get something clear here, Henry. Most of the stories about me are complete horse shit. Blown completely out of proportion. I barely killed 30 men in Ferox, and only killed a couple of that High Priest's guards at most. The Priest was killed by a Taguel named Panne."

"Oh! I know her!" Henry exclaims in excitement.

"That's lovely to hear." I reply, quickly cutting him off. "But completely beside the point. What I'm trying to say is this: I am not some monster. I'm just a regular human being. Granted, one who seems to be better at living through horrific injuries than most." I gesture to the mess of scars clearly visible on my naked torso. Henry gasps appreciatively as he leans in to examine them, far closer than I'm really comfortable with.

A very mixed blessing it is that I have more important things to worry about than my body image problems right this minute.

"So…" Henry says slowly as he stares almost hungrily at my scars. "Are you saying you don't want me to help you kill people?"

I hum thoughtfully, trying to think of the best way to put this that won't put him off the idea. "Well that's not the goal of the mission, no. I'm not particularly fussed about collateral, mind you, but-"

"What is the goal?" Henry interrupts me, eyes sharp. I suddenly feel like I'm staring into the mouth of a predator. Until now I knew that Henry was a dangerous killer, but it's only as he gives me this intense stare that I feel the full weight of the danger I'm in. I feel like he's testing me. And if I fail he won't hesitate to kill me for so much as a second.

"Well, not long from now, King Gangrel of Plegia will be holding a public execution of Exalt Emmeryn of Ylisse." I say, not really expecting Henry to pay much attention to the politics of… well anything, really. "My aim is to save her life."

Henry's face twists sharply in distaste. "What?"

"Her death is going to bring about the end of the war!" I say quickly. "If things go unchanged, Emmeryn will die, and the war will end shortly after."

"And you want to save her." Henry replies, looking thoughtful. "And if you do that the war will be longer?"

"It's certainly possible." I reply, keeping my face straight. It's definitely possible… if we fuck this up.

Henry frowns, staring me in the eye. The fire in his hand jumps erratically, seeming to react to his mood. For the briefest of moments I swear I see a purple tint to the light of the flames. After the briefest of instants the fire is blazing a merry golden light again though, and I find myself wondering if I was imagining things.

Henry laughs cheerfully as I stare at his flame suspiciously. "Spooked you, huh? Don't worry, I'm still not going to kill you. I was definitely thinking about it though!"

My mind is racing through combat scenarios as I watch carefully. If he does become hostile, the best I can realistically expect is a tie, what with me being unarmed at the moment. And unlike me, he'll play for keeps if it comes to that. My eyes snap back to his face. "Were you now?"

"Sure!" Henry says, tilting his head and shrugging, "You were lying to me, after all. Can't be friends if you're not being honest. You don't want the war to go on any longer, I can tell. You're trying to end it!"

"I'm not looking to end the war, per se." I reply, mind racing. "The war doesn't need my help with that. If things carry on like this The Exalt and her brother will deal with that themselves."

Henry hums thoughtfully, peering closely at me. "You really believe that, huh?"

"I do." I shrug. "Which is why ending the war isn't my goal. Like I said, I'm looking to make sure Emmeryn survives to see the war ended."

Henry thinks on that for a while, then waves dismissively. "Eh, not my thing."

"You're not interested?"

"Oh, I'm interested. I still want to see what kind of crazy plan Ben the Butcher comes up with! But if it means stopping somebody from dying…" Henry chuckles. "That's pretty much the exact opposite of what I like doing."

I nod grimly. "I'm well aware. I didn't come to you because I thought you'd like this job. I came to you because I know you'll be good at it." I walk forward slowly. "Naturally, that means I'm not feeling inclined to take no for an answer at this point. So tell me… what do you want?"

Henry blinks at that. "You're… bargaining?"

"I am."

He frowns. "Not going to threaten me?"

"Are you even capable of fear?"

He's starting to look notably put out. "Not even a little bit of torture? Break my legs, maybe? That could be fun!"

"That would be counter-productive." I reply, starting to feel somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm going to need you in one piece for my plan to work."

"Could you at least smack me around a little? I was hoping if I didn't cooperate I might get to see you do some butcher stuff to me!" Henry pouts.

"Dude, that's really weird." I grimace. "I liked it better when you were threatening to kill me. Seriously, just tell me what you want already."

I'm expecting him to ask me to do something unspeakable, of course. Considering the incident that made him interested in me in the first place, it seems like the natural direction for this to go. Some sort of re-enactment of Kidnapper's Keep, perhaps. Probably going to take some time to haggle him away from demanding another crime against humanity from me. Even if I wanted to commit murder for him (which I sure as shit don't), I still doubt I'm capable of doing anything too violent without having a minor breakdown over it. Spells have the benefit of distance, but I somehow doubt Henry is interested in seeing me do something he can do far better.

"Can I have some time to think about it?" Henry asks suddenly, interrupting my thought process.

"Come again?" I frown in confusion.

Henry is looking unusually pensive. "I'm not sure what I would want from you for something like this. If I'm going to ask you for something, then I think it should be something special!"

"Huh…" I stare at him curiously, then shrug. "I mean, sure, I guess. As long as you get back to me before I've reached the capital, I can work with that. Though…" I frown, rethinking things quickly. "Actually, the faster you think of something, the better. If you keep me waiting too long it could totally fuck up some of my backup plans."

"Cool." Henry grins. "That could be fun. I'll be quick though. I'm a big fan of your work, so I want to make sure I get this right! Ask for something really special!"

"Ooookay." I reply, bemused in spite of everything. "Tell you what then. I'm going to go see my friends now. You lay low, think on things, and send one of your crows to talk to me when you've figured it out."

"Nya ha ha! Sure thing, mister butcher! I'll just sit back and stew on things for a while."

My face falls at that. Was that a fucking meat pun? Really? "Not even the gravest of the atrocities I've committed can compare to what you just did to the very concept of humor in this moment. Good night."

I walk swiftly out of the alley, followed by the sound of cawing laughter accompanying Henry's distinctive giggling. Dreadful puns aside though, I can't help but feel the conversation went very well. Reluctant though Henry may be, he seems to like the idea of working with me more than the idea of seeing the Exalt die.

It looks like I may have a very powerful potential resource to work with now. I just have to hope now that I whatever price he asks for doesn't put me back in therapy.


I slow my pace down a block away from the tavern, making sure to catch my breath before returning. Thankfully the night air in the desert is cool enough that all my running around hasn't pushed me to break a sweat just yet. If anything I'm starting to feel properly chilled, honestly. I'm still not wearing a shirt, and as the night stretches on it has to be approaching freezing. Deserts are weird like that. Same thing that makes them so stupidly fucking hot in the day makes them cold as hell overnight. The ground just doesn't retain heat at all.

Thankfully everything inside the tavern seems to be exactly as I left it. The sound of laughter and general merriment from the tavern seems a safe sign that my disappearance wasn't noticed. Just in case though, I figure it's in my best interest to check my room for signs of any visitors.

Before I can grab the handle though the door swings inward, away from me, and somebody rushes out directly into me. They bounce off my chest in fact, running headfirst into me. I'd like to say I take the hit like a champ, but whoever it was clearly put enough effort into things to send me staggering. I stumble back into the wall, catching myself with one hand, and look up to see the person fall to the floor in my room with a shout of surprise that I identify as female.

"Shit, you alright there?" I grimace, expecting to see Lissa or Maribelle having come to check in on me. My expectations are proven wrong when I recognize a familiar head of red hair. "Cordelia?"

"Yes, I only injured my pride…" She replies, getting back to her feet and dusting herself off, when it seems to occur to her exactly who she's talking to. "Oh! Ben! I was worried something had happened to you!"

"Sorry to be a bother." I say as I straighten up. "Just had to run to the restroom. Did you need me for something?"

"Oh, not particularly." Cordelia replies with a shake of her head. "I just thought I'd bring you a change of clothing and was surprised to see you gone."

"Guess I woke up at a bad time." I chuckle. "I appreciate the assistance though. Not sure how we got by without you taking care of us."

"It's nothing special." Cordelia shrugs dismissively. "I just like to stay on top of things, that's all."

"Don't sell yourself short." I shake my head. "Robin's mentioned all the work you put into keeping our supplies in order, and all the trouble you've saved him since you joined. I consider myself a fairly organized person, but I could never manage all that. I have a hard time just making sure he has his clothing packed properly."

"I'm not convinced it's anything that impressive." Cordelia replies, frowning.

"It is." I say firmly. "It means a lot. To me, at least. You're the only member of the Shepherds who seems to have realized that I might want to cover up this fucked up disaster of a torso I've got."

"What?"

Cordelia glares sharply at me, and I flinch in spite of myself. Apparently I said something to piss her off? What happened? Did I say the G-word? What is this foot in my mouth and how did it get there? My eyes are transfixed by her own heated gaze, and my mind races as she continues to fume at me in silence. "Uhh, I know this is a painfully typical line to drop as a man, but, uhh… was it something I said?"

"Was it? Why don't you tell me?" Cordelia snaps. "Explain to me why you would think for even a solitary second that I would ever think such a thing about one of my closest friends!"

Oh. She's talking about… but… "I'm… I'm not judging you, Cordelia. I just… It's not pretty. It's more or less the opposite of that. I don't have any illusions about what happened to me. What all this," I gesture to the scars, "Looks like. It's not… I'm okay with it. My looks were never much to write home about anyways." I conclude with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Cordelia stares at me throughout all of this. By the end she no longer looks angry. More horrified, which was decidedly not what I was going for. Though, what it is I was going for is rapidly becoming unclear in retrospect. I think I might have just doubled down on making an ass of myself with Cordelia by doing my best to make an even bigger ass of myself?

Sometimes I really have to wonder just what the fuck is wrong with me.

Cordelia seems to have made her own mind up on that note though, because as I stand marvelling at my stupidity she is rapidly bearing down on me, glare fixing itself to her face once again. She's going to hit me! That's probably fair though. I'm not sure how to precisely define what I just said but it definitely falls within the broader category of 'asshole.' I close my eyes and lean back, anticipating her to slap me, or maybe do this Sumia style and just punch me straight in the face.

Some sort of cloth presses firmly against my shoulder. I tense, but no sharp pain comes. She's… not hitting me? I crack an eye open and look to see she's pushing the shirt she brought against me. Her eyes are still fixed on mine. As soon as I lock gazes with her I find myself trapped in place. She has red eyes. Did I know that already? I feel like this is the longest I've ever made eye contact with her.

"I brought this," Cordelia says sternly, "Because it gets cold at night. And I wanted to help you. Those are the only reasons. I would never think such horrible things about you, let alone say them. And if I ever did stare at these," she places a hand firmly on my chest, bare fingers cool against the scar left there by Ezra's arrow all those months ago. The sudden physical contact startles me, but she doesn't notice, staring intently at the old wounds and surgical scars stretched like a spider web across my chest as she muses. "If you ever saw me staring at these scars, it was only ever meant in awe."

"…Awe?" I ask dumbly, doing my best to repress a shiver at her touch.

"Awe. That you could be so strong, to survive so much. That you possess the determination to fight on after all that happened to you. And even through all of that, you take the time to look after everyone around you. Chrom, Robin, your children…" She trails off at that, and while I'm sure it's just the dim lighting playing tricks on me, I can't help but think she's blushing.

Wishful thinking. Just because she respects you doesn't mean she's looking for a relationship, Ben. Don't go mistaking any positive interaction for romantic interest, that's how entitled asshole behavior is born. We have put those years and that sort of attitude well behind us.

Regardless… "Ever since what happened in Ferox, I've seen these scars as a badge of shame, you know." I say, turning my gaze down to my ruined chest. "I did so many horrible, ugly things there. I figured this was fate's way of making sure the outside matched the inside. Karmic retribution."

"What was it you said to me that night in Gelida Dominus?" Cordelia asks pointedly. "It kills me to see you act like you deserve even half of what you've been through. You don't." She gives me a small smile. "You're awesome."

My face suddenly feels… ah. I'm crying. "Shit!" I sob, rubbing at my eyes frantically, stepping back and breaking contact with her. "Sorry, I just… give me a second, alright?"

"…Do you need the shirt?" Cordelia asks, suddenly looking very unsure of herself.

"Best not." I grin, wiping tears all over my bare arms. "Gonna be wearing that in a minute, right?"

After that the two of us stand in awkward silence while I get my shit together. It takes me a little while to regain my composure, far longer than I'd like to admit. I feel… conflicted, to say the least. A part of me, that part of myself that I'm constantly at war with, is disgusted with myself. The idea of letting myself be so weak as to break down sobbing in front of a woman like this is the sort of thing I grew up thinking was taboo. It's not healthy, and I know that, but the stigma is there. It will always be there.

There's a far larger part of my brain though, that knows this is healthy. That I needed this. That I've been bottling things up all my life, especially recently. Crying isn't a weakness. It's just a healthy way to let out the pressure.

That said, regardless of how healthy it is, I'm still intensely thankful I'm not one of those people who gets all snotty when they cry. Making Cordelia uncomfortable enough as it is.

Finally though, the tears stop. By that point I'm a mess, snotty or not. Thankfully somebody did think to leave a wash basin in my room, probably so they could clean me up after today's debacle. It works wonders on my face and arms. Cordelia waits in the hall while I clean up, still seeming unsure of what to do with herself. I guess she's not used to having grown ass men sobbing all over themselves in front of her, which isn't particularly surprising now that I think of it.

"Alright, feeling much better now." I announce as I leave the room to rejoin her in the hall, sweeping my hair back out of my face. "Apparently I needed that. Sorry about the blubbering."

"I feel like I should be the one apologizing." Cordelia replies, looking contrite. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Not upset." I shake my head emphatically. "Not like you're thinking. Just… overwhelmed. I know, in my head, that I shouldn't think about these the way I do." I place my hand over my chest again. "But… I really can't seem to stop it. So hearing you say that, just… it means a lot. Thank you."

"Any time." Cordelia says softly. She places her hand over mine, resting it on my scar. It feels different though. She's more tentative, now that the heat of the moment has faded. Once more she gazes up into my eyes, and I find myself transfixed. "Ben, I-"

"Oh, he's up!" A voice cries enthusiastically.

The two of us must jump nearly a foot in the air in surprise. Cordelia recovers first, pulling her hand back to her side and widening the distance between us by several steps. She was... close. Really close. And now she's trying desperately to act normally, thanks to the appearance of… oh, it's Sully.

Sully stands framed in the light from the hallway, face flushed from alcohol as she grins over at us. "I was wondering what was taking you so… uhh…" Her expression sobers as she looks at the two of us. "Did I just…?"

"Sorry for worrying you, Sully." Cordelia smiles over coolly. "I was just about to give Ben his change of clothes." She practically hurls the shirt at me and rushes down the hall, face bright red.

"Shit." Sully hisses, staring after Cordelia as she makes her exit. "I didn't realize I was interrupting you two. Been drinking more than I thought, I guess. Sorry about that."

A part of me wants to get upset. Wants to know what Cordelia was about to say. That part has unreal expectations of the world, though. The rest of me feels a lot more grounded now. Like that conversation was just a dream, and I've come back to reality.

That's a bit dramatic, of course. I don't actually think I was dreaming up the conversation. Just… might have been getting a bit carried away reading into the subtext. She was just… doing what I've done for her in the past. It's not like I had anything romantic on the brain when I've talked her through a crisis.

"You weren't." I say dully as I finally pull the shirt on. "Pretty sure she was just embarrassed because she knew you'd make that assumption."

Sully has to concentrate hard on that one, swaying a little in place. "You think?" She says uncertainly, looking back in the direction Cordelia ran.

"Of course." I roll my eyes. "Think about it. Woman like her with a walking disaster like me?" I know from experience; I'm not the sort of guy girls go for. I was too much of a mess of issues even before I came to this world. And now? I have twice as many issues, a reputation as some sort of murderous lunatic, and half the regard for morality I used to. Not exactly boyfriend material.

Sully's stare seems fit to burn a hole in the floor with how hard she's concentrating. After a while she looks up at me, expression resolute. "I've thought about it. And I've decided I'm too goddamn drunk for this shit. Ask me again tomorrow."

"You probably won't remember this tomorrow Sully." I joke, finally making my exit from the dark hallway and approaching her.

"Prob'ly not. That's good though. Never been much for sappy stuff." Sully shrugs, then claps me on the shoulder. "Now come on. That old guy you made friends with today has been asking about you."

"Gregor? He's alright then?"

"Yeah he's alright, dumbass. Wouldn't be partying if everyone wasn't okay, would we?"

That is a fantastic point, come to think of it. One that should have occurred to me as soon as I woke up. "Got me there, Sully." I grin. "Better get in on the action then. Haven't eaten in like, twelve hours!"

"Well shit, let's go do something about that!" Sully laughs, leading me into the tavern.


It turns out to be a far bigger party than I was expecting. Apparently the people we saved earlier with our little rampage are thrilled to have their town free of Grimleal. They're providing us with all the hospitality they can spare. That only really adds up to a couple extra kegs of ale and a nice place to stop for the night, but everyone seems to have decided it makes for a fine excuse to cut loose. The tavern is packed, filled to the brim with Feroxi, Shepherds, and Plegian citizens, all working hard to get noisy and shitfaced.

Most of the Shepherds are present, with only Gaius (stable, but still on the mend), Maribelle (still looking after Gaius), and the more reclusive Shepherds like Panne and Lon'qu absent. The rest of us drink, eat well, and have a good time for the next few hours before Frederick finally declares that enough is enough and sends us all to bed before we're too hungover to march the next day. Though if that was his goal he was probably late by an hour or two. Some of the Shepherds were already hammered by the time I had arrived.

It's good to see everyone made it through alright after I passed out though. Only notable injury besides Gaius was Vaike, who apparently was buried by a collapsing sand dune and needed Miriel to dig him out with a wind spell. The others were all fine, having caught the Grimleal completely off guard and already exhausted from chasing my group all over the damn place. Just one more reason to celebrate, as far as I'm concerned.

All this means that by the time I'm returning to my room in the back of the tavern I'm in fairly high spirits. I've forgotten about today's fuster-cluck of a mission, forgotten about whatever was happening between Cordelia and I before Sully showed up.

Forgot about Henry.

Never a good idea to forget about Henry when he has his eyes on you. I should know this, with all the bonus knowledge I have, but I guess experience is a far more potent teacher.

When I get back to my bedroom he's waiting for me. I almost miss him at first, even with his pale skin standing out in the shadows. He's lurking by the window, grinning over at me. "I've decided." He murmurs, eyes gleaming in the dark.

I notice him just in time to avoid jumping at that, which is pretty critical as far as I'm concerned. No way it's a good idea to let Henry know he can sneak up on me that easily. "The fuck are you doing here?" I growl, closing the door behind me. "I told you to send a bird."

"I thought about it." Henry says, leaning casually against the wall. "But I noticed that somebody almost noticed you were gone. So I thought I'd be a good friend and come to you so that wouldn't be a problem!"

"A good friend, huh?" I frown. "You've certainly become attached rather quickly."

"I thought scheming was something friends do together." Henry shrugs, tilting his head just enough to make his grin suddenly a hundred times creepier. "Is that a problem? Do you not want to be my friend?"

Honestly I'm not sure it matters. Henry strikes me as the sort of person to be just as okay with murdering a friend as he is with an enemy. I don't actually know if he's capable of true friendship; he might be limited to some weird, vaguely homicidal, Henry version of the idea. Still, best to play it safe. Play along. I throw my arms wide open, smiling as I declare, "Sure, we can be friends. You're going to be helping me after all!"

"Yay!" Henry closes in, clapping his hands on my shoulders. I freeze up immediately. Wasn't actually inviting him to get close. I was just being dramatic. Better get over it fast though. Not a good time to let him know I'm less than okay with being near him. I clap a hand to his shoulder in return, and note that he's light enough for me to pick up and swing around the room. Kid's skinny as a rail.

"So… you said you decided on something?" I say breaking contact and wandering over to the window, making sure to keep an eye on him. "You know what your price is?"

"Yes! I thought about it, and there's two things I want." Henry says eagerly.

"Two, huh?" I muse. Not what we agreed on, but I do need him. "Let me hear them first."

"Okay!" Henry grins. "First: I want to join the Shepherds!"

"You do?" I blink, thinking over the implications. That would be jumping the gun a bit, but I don't think that's a huge deal. He's supposed to join in a couple years anyways. And it's not like he's one of those plot critical characters who are likely to fuck things up through sheer presence.

"I was watching you all party together. It looked like a lot of fun! So I want to have fun with all of you." Henry says, bouncing on his feet.

"You want that enough to turn against the Grimleal?" I say suspiciously. "Don't you have friends there?"

"I have a friend in the Shepherds now too!" Henry shrugs. "So I'd be killing friends no matter which side I joined."

Oddly flawless logic from a demented murderer. "I'll see what I can do. I've vouched for people before and it's worked out well. But I'll warn you now, the Shepherds don't have any tolerance for wanton murder."

"Really?" Henry frowns, "I thought you did wanton murder."

Okay, that one kinda hurt to hear. Apparently I'm not quite as used to the rumors as I thought I was. "Not exactly. The Shepherds… try to enact justice. Some of us don't always succeed in being just, but it's always the goal. The reason people won't shut up about me is because what I did in Ferox was an outlier. A big one."

"Huh… that sounds complicated." Henry says thoughtfully. "I dunno if I can do that. But I bet if I do a good job of killing your enemies they won't really be able to complain."

"Just remember that they have their own rules about what a good job is." I reply. "Avoiding collateral damage, for one."

"This is a lot of rules." Henry muses. "I thought you were supposed to be doing something nice for me."

"You said you wanted to join the Shepherds." I reply coolly. "That means acting like a Shepherd. Or at least putting in the effort."

"Hmm, I suppose that's true!" Henry muses. "Well I guess I'll still try it. It was the second thing I was really interested in anyways."

Damned if that isn't a troubling statement from this lunatic. "What's your second request?"

Henry leans towards me, the moonlight shining through the window catching his head so that he seems to glow white like some sort of fucking ghost. "I want you to kill me."

I stare blankly at him. "You… what?"

"I want you to kill me!" Henry repeats eagerly. "Not right away, mind you. I still want to try being a Shepherd first. But when that's done I want you to kill me in the best way you can imagine!"

"The best way, huh?" I echo, feeling somewhat faint. I've been speaking with this kid for less than a night and he just won't stop topping himself in sheer insanity.

"I've always wanted to die a spectacular, gory, death." Henry explains. "And I've heard all kinds of people talking about how good you are at killing people. You seem like an interesting person too, as far as I can tell. So I figure if I want to die in the absolute best way possible you'd be the best person to do it! I thought of it while I was watching you earlier and I just got so excited I couldn't stand still!" He hops in place to display said excitement, bouncing on his heels and grinning up at me.

"You think very highly of me, huh?" I groan. What the fuck am I supposed to do about this? I know he's a bit of a dangerous freak, but I'm not exactly interested in killing the kid. I suppose my answer has to be the same either way though. "Fine. I'll do it." I finally say, holding out a hand for him to shake.

Why not just tell the kid what he wants to hear? I get the help I need to save Emmeryn's life, he gets to put all those murder skills of his to use. And honestly with the way this kid acts I wouldn't be surprised if I did have to do something drastic down the road. Hard to believe, but the game actually downplayed his creep factor.

Henry stares quietly as he takes my hand. "You're lying to me again. I can tell."

"Not really. I won't deny that I don't like the idea, but I'll stand by what I said." I shrug with my free arm. "As much as I don't want to kill you, I'll think of something. Since it means so much to you." I force myself to appear as casual as I can manage. Henry is sharp for all his disturbing tendencies, so lying to him is a dangerous prospect. It's harder to not tense up with him than it is with most people, and that's exactly the sort of body language that tends to tip people off.

"Hmm…" Henry stares intensely at me for several long seconds. I keep my face relaxed through force of will, pushing myself to breathe normally in spite of the fear clutching at my chest. Then, finally, his expression brightens up, and he starts pumping my hand. "Well alright then! I guess I'll help you save that Exalt lady."

"Pleasure to be working with you." I grin. "Now then, here's the plan…"


For those who aren't aware, Bodega Bay is the setting of Alfred Hitchcock's 1963 classic "The Birds".

Nice to finally write Ben learning how to use his reputation instead of lamenting it. Unfortunately, he still has a ways to go before he can stop himself from believing it.

True ship finally revealed. The real OTP is Ben/Denial. As much as I'd like to elaborate on the reasons behind his thoughts though, they'll be elaborated on in story later.

As always, I invite you all to join the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord. It's a good time for anyone who likes to talk writing, gaming, or writing about gaming. A lot of my good friends and fellow writers are regulars there, and we gladly welcome anyone regardless of writing skill or history.
discord .gg/9XG3U7a

Next time: Chapter 9 begins.