That was it. That was enough. Apollo had been reading and writing reports for most of the morning and his eyes were beginning to feel tired. He got up from his desk, stretched his stiff limbs, and approached the balcony, enjoying the breeze. He watched the bustle below from where he stood. He frowned.

Were those new arrivals another set of nobles? He had to squint his eyes for a better look — fancy clothes, that air of importance, and the calculated movements — they were nobles indeed. Apollo sighed exasperatedly and almost slumped against the balcony.

He will have to be ready. He will be needed again soon.

There was a loud knock from his door. Apollo stepped a few paces away from the balcony and bid his visitor to enter.

Blackwall — no, Thom Rainier — shuffled past in the room carrying quite an armful of sealed letters and a mug of something steaming in his other hand.

"Chocolate," he said and set the letters down on the desk already flooded with unrolled parchments. "Ambassador Montilyet has handed me these to be given to you while she deals with the nobles who just arrived."

Apollo sighed. "I did see them come in, yes." He stared at Thom who handed him the mug. "Is there . . . something you need?"

Thom straightened up and looked about the room, the hesitation clear in his eyes. He placed his hands behind him and answered, "I was passing by to have a look at the new arrivals when Josephine saw me. I offered my help, and . . . I thought you might be buried with paperwork, so I went to the kitchens to get you something to drink." He looked up at him. "I haven't had the chance to tell you properly how grateful I am to you, Inquisitor. For this."

Apollo studied him for a moment, warming his hands around the mug. Thom was still staring although he eventually surrendered and bowed, about to quit the room when Apollo said, "I am only doing what I think is right."

Thom turned, one foot on the steps leading back to the door, a hand on the banister.

"I still see you as a friend," Apollo added. "I know you hid the truth from me, from everyone else, but your actions, ever since you joined the Inquisition, have been nothing but sincere. You deserve another chance."

"And I swear to give my life for the Inquisition," Thom said. "But it will never remove the fact that I killed people for my greed."

"I know," Apollo said. He took a sip of the hot chocolate. The strong flavor exploded and brought back some of the lost energy wasted from dealing with endless reports. His eyes fell on the fireplace, thoughtful. "But I can't deny anyone another chance if they are truly dedicated in repenting and righting their wrongs. I'm only human. I've killed relentlessly myself. I have my wrongs, and I still have things to atone for."

"But what you do is —"

"— for the greater good, yes." Apollo glowered at the phrase. He always hated that phrase, and having uttered it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite their cause, despite anyone's cause, it never made sense to him as he's already heard of it for so many times, that he began to think of it merely as an excuse. "Killing does not make me any better. It is necessary but that does not mean I have to like it, whether or not it is for the greater good. I am not the Maker, Thom. I don't want to keep deciding who lives and dies."

Thom stood there speechless.

"You are my friend, Thom," Apollo reminded. "I just hope that you do not waste this chance. You still have plenty of work to do."

Thom gave him a firm and resolute nod.

"Thank you, Inquisitor. I will do my best."

Apollo smiled warmly. He lifted the drink an inch and said, "Oh, and thank you for this. This'll help me survive these reports."