"So, take a seat."

They stood in the mess hall of the compound. The Devoted, three of them in matching aprons, stood ready to serve behind the counter. Viole glanced at the trays of food then at the rows upon rows of empty tables.

Save for Luslec Mirchea Grace.

The man nodded at him as Viole did as told and took a seat, tray in hand. Still he looked at the tray as he placed it down on top of the metallic table. It reminded him of those times they had eaten on the Floor of Test, of his attempts to get Androssi to sign the friendship sheet. The memory came to him, quick and vivid, but only for a moment. He twirled the fork around in the noddles.

"Sorry it's so quiet," the leader said, "We'll have this place flooded with muscle soon."

Is that supposed to be reassuring?

Viole stopped, just put the fork down by the plate, and looked at Grace, "So," he said – testing the word, "What now?"

"Good question," Grace said as he leaned forward – food forgotten. "I guess we can start with some questions."

Despite himself, Viole openly scowled. He didn't know if he wanted to answer any questions from the man. He didn't even tell Hwa Ryun about the Cave, though she was a familiar face who also had been on the Second Floor with him, so he sure didn't want to tell a complete stranger like Grace.

For his part, Grace seemed to read his hesitance. He held his hands up, "Fine, if you don't want to say anything you don't have to. We can start with me. Do you have any questions for me?"

His first reaction was to just say no. To end the conversation then and there and shut himself down. But the words 'Do you have any questions for me?' just resounded in his heads, and Viole found a single question repeating itself over and over in his head.

"Why?"

Grace raised an eyebrow. He had a smirk on his face like Hwa Ryun did or, once he allowed himself to think of it, like Koon did. So self-assured.

Damn. Taking the bait again. "Why did you create the Federation?"

Grace smiled before asking a question back, "Do you know that the Empire says that they brought civilization into the Tower?"

"I … I think I've heard that before."

"It's a lie. There were countries and cultures and languages on each Floor of the Inner Tower, though no one knew that they were on a Floor, or even that they were in a Tower. We were separated from each other, isolated, with no way to contact each other, and even if we could we had no way to communicate without Pockets. Still, though, cultures existed."

It didn't take Viole long to realize that the point of view when he spoke shifted, "We?"

"Yes," Grace said, turning his head to the side, "That middle name: Mirchea. I chose the name after the country I was born in – one that no longer exists."

Something clicked and that excitement from before, from earlier in the day, returned in full force. Viole jumped up, gripped the edge of the table, and said, "You were the ruler of Mirchea! That's why you created FUG! To get it back!"

Grace blinked at him.

Then he laughed.

And laughed.

And kept laughing as Baam slid back into his seat, red-faced, "I thought it made sense," he muttered.

"No," he said, "I wasn't the ruler. In fact, Mirchea had no ruler, no king, it was a republic."

A what now?

"More than that, though, I wasn't anyone special. Just a preacher."

"A preacher?"

"A man of faith."

Viole just looked at him, trying to wrap his mind around the thought. She … Rachel … she told him a bit about religion, how there were texts that "morons" just took as truth (now that he thought about it she had always been rather abrasive – he had just dismissed it as joking before), but she had never gone into details. Even if she had the religions from the Outside would probably be different than the ones in the Tower.

"So, you have something you believe in?"

"Believed," he corrected, "Quite a few things changed, but for a while, after everything happened, I tried to hold a certain … mindset, I guess you'd call it." The pause, the afterthought, it all pointed to uncertainty that Grace measured and chose his words carefully.

"And that mindset?"

"Grace."

And another thing snapped in place. The impact of it rushed through Viole as he just stared at where the man sat. The words came before he really registered them, "Your name holds a lot of meaning to you."

That caused another laugh.

"Yes," he said after the laugher died down, "I'd say so or at least it did."

"Then what does grace mean to you?"

He smiled at that. Luslec shifted his body and took on a nostalgic air. Viole could tell, practically sense, that the man's next words were long practiced.

"Do you know what the difference is between mercy and grace?"

"Not really."

"Mercy is to give someone what they deserve while grace is to give someone what they don't deserve."

Viole thought he got it. "So, for example, mercy killing –"

"It's when someone is suffering and you end their pain. You give them what they deserve – relief."

Honestly, even if he got it, he didn't really get it. And by now he had the creeping suspicion that he didn't want to. For a moment, Viole paused, opening and closing his mouth, but then he asked, "Why is that so important to you?"

"Why indeed?" He asked, a fog seemed to linger over his words. As Viole looked on he saw the man close in on himself, pulling the collar of his robe to his chest and stepping away from the table, "It's a long story, Viole. One best saved for another time."

Once more his mouth opened but this time Viole had no words to say. He just nodded.

Grace seemed to accept that. He nodded back, turned around and headed to the far door.

Viole watched him go.

…

As promised, the hired muscle, more FUG men, came in later that day, after the dinner, under the cover of darkness. From up on the walls Viole watched as dozens, if not hundreds, of guards filtered in from the outside – from up above, it looked like the sands in an hourglass; just trickling in. At this point, even if that lone survivor did make it to the city he would have to hire an army to take the compound back.

"Should we go down and greet them?"

Viole turned around to see Ha Jinsung standing behind him. "You should get used to being seen," he went on. But Viole just turned his back on the man, slumping against the stone wall.

"I don't really feel like it."

Surprisingly, that caused a snort of laughter from the man. Viole shot a look over his shoulder.

"That sound like … well … someone I knew a long time ago. Don't be such a child, 'Ole."

"Pardon me for being a child then."

"Do you not want to see them because you'll have to kill a couple?"

That caused Viole to spin back around. Ha Jinsung stood where he had before, hands in pockets, so casual and at ease. He could have been talking about the weather for all the tension in his face and tone. Death meant nothing to him.

"In an escape attempt."

Now Viole knew what the Ranker meant but he still shook his head – fast and rough.

"No. No! I wouldn't betray my friends like that."

"I'm sure the fact that Grace is in the building has nothing to do with it?"

"Actually, it doesn't."

He paused at that, as if looking, as if searching, Viole's eyes. Seeing if he's serious. Ha Jinsung must have come to a conclusion because he walked by to the lip of the wall, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up. As the smoke rose up Viole took a step back, getting out of the way of the secondhand smoke. Ha Jinsung looked down at the procession below, took the cig out and blew once more.

"You won't get far up the Tower if you have a death wish, kid."

"I wouldn't call it that."

He snorted, "Of course you wouldn't." Then he reached over and smashed the cigarette against one of the battlements. Once the light snuffed out Viole only had the starlight to see. But that was still enough to see the man's face, to see the anger that flashed over it, that washed over it. Such a deep anger, nearly matching the one he had seen earlier when Ha Jinsung intervened against Yu Han Sung. "Then let me put it this way – it would be a dog's death. Your friends would never learn that you were really alive and you'd fade away in obscurity."

Viole wanted to take a step back, but just couldn't.

"I have no intention of dying."

Ha Jinsung paused then he sighed, "No, I guess not." He gave Viole this smile – this sort of half, sad little smile. "Still, I know you don't like it here but just hold on."

Viole looked at the man, a steady look, then he nodded.

Ha Jinsung gave a smile in return and clasped a hand on Viole's shoulder, "I'll see you in the morning."

After he left, Viole found himself looking up at the fake stars. He felt the chill in the wind on his face and heard the clamor from below as the garrison settled in. With Ha Jinsung gone, with him alone up on the wall, none was there to hear him ask.

"Hold on for how long?"