Hello everybody! I'm sorry that it's been a month since my last update, but I've been really busy and I've had my fair share of ups and downs, including some intense grief. However, I'm back with another chapter, so I hope you guys are just as excited as I am! A HUGE thank you to all those who have reviewed my story over this last month: , Clytuis, A happy reader, THExPOTxHEAD(formerly known as Najeh), TheGreatAthlon5, Random, Alpha Death, FierceDeity24, DeathDrayanD, a guest reader, Randonfire, AresTheUnderlander, BryceSyce, Dragons boy, Jallex, HumanicHedgeHog, another guest reader, dragonfire, Gyltig, pyro159, NoahTheOverlander(nice to meet you!) and Reader. Your reviews have honestly kept me going through hard times this last month so thank you very much.
Just to let y'all know, the breakdown of the poll results for the Gregor vs Ripred fight is as follows- 42% of you were on Ripred's side, 29% of you were on Gregor's side and 29% of you couldn't choose between the two.
This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.
Chapter 16: A Good Man
Gregor fidgeted restlessly underneath the linen covers, feeling as if he was chained to his position. But Howard had insisted that he get some rest, or the lingering effects of the Murk might end up having a long-term impact on his respiratory and nervous system. The recovery time would take at least another couple of days, which felt like eons for Gregor. He sighed in exasperation and decided to run over the events of the past few days.
The Regalian soldiers who had surrounded Ripred and him actually ended up calling for medical help instead of arresting the both of them. Both of them were whisked away to the hospital, where Howard was running to and fro to keep both patients in a stable condition. The injuries Ripred sustained, especially the loss of his left eye, were all life-threatening, which meant that he was sent to the intensive care unit. Word came round that he would survive and pull through the operations he was getting, but he wouldn't be the same fighter again.
Whilst his injuries were not that severe, Gregor was still treated immediately for the deep wounds in his shoulder and knee, as well as for his Murk-infested lungs. Gregor's physical condition had deteriorated quickly within minutes after Ripred's fight as the Murk's effects returned to haunt him, quite literally. Apparently, while Howard was operating on him, he was thrashing about in the bed violently, screaming out Lizzie's name hysterically at the same time.
Gregor couldn't quite remember anything, bar the strobe-like flashes of light and distinct murmuring that might as well have been another language. The only language he understood throughout the procedure was pain, and they spoke to him in many dialects. Scalding, searing, piercing… Gregor's punishment was this tribulation for his murderous and violent impulses earlier
To Howard's credit, he didn't ask much of the fight between Gregor and Ripred. He quietly worked away at improving Gregor's physical condition, while occasionally dishing out advice for Gregor to follow. But there wasn't one word about his fight with Ripred, apart from a quick mention about how Ripred was doing quite well.
Apollo was also apparently sent to the hospital, despite the fact that he was technically under arrest for impeding Regalia forces. His eyes immediately began drifting about the room, hoping for something to cheer him up rather than letting himself settle on the topic of Apollo. But the white walls merely answered his blank expression with a blank expression. In the stifling hospital room, there was no escaping his darkest thoughts.
The truth was that Apollo had come far too close to death for Gregor to merely dismiss it as an off-chance. An eerie chill descended onto him, sending an ominous shiver down his spine and triggering a distant memory.
"I've got to get in closer if I'm going to take it out."
There was wildfire burning in the Bane's eyes when he saw that. A mad king had tumbled off his throne unceremoniously with nothing to lose. He was diabolical and merciless, demonstrating close to no empathy or compassion in any breath he made. He was a living manifestation of cruelty and death.
Yet Gregor had flown Ares in willingly.
He had flown Ares in willingly, knowing that the consequences could be fatal.
It was so ironic, since it was his inaction that condemned the Underland to unparalleled misery and death. His decision to hold back when it mattered most, to strain against the will to bring his sword down and end the life of the Bane… Was that the moment? The moment he killed thousands of humans and rats unwittingly? The moment he killed Ares?
"It would still have been immoral."
Would it? Given the chance to go back in time and end Hitler while he was an infant, would he have done it? Knowing that the fate of the world hinged on the decision to compromise on one's own values and murder a then innocent baby in cold blood?
Gregor's flashbacks were suddenly replaced by an image of the present. Gregor towered over Ripred's limp body as the rat heaved and gasped desperately to gulp down as much air as possible. Blood spilled out of the dark emptiness that was his left eye and his right eye was just as empty and lifeless, staring into the void. In that moment, Ripred and Gregor both knew the old rat was going to die.
And yet he hadn't.
Like the Bane, Ripred had escaped the clutches of death with the blade of Sandwich inches away from piercing his bulging jugular vein.
His sword lay quietly and almost fearfully on a chair in one corner, as if it strained to hide in the shadows despite its radiant glow, for fear of incurring its master's wrath. Gregor eyed it in its untainted form, admiring its length of three and a half feet of wholesome goodness. The blade, polished and free from the haunting stains of Ripred's blood, reflected Gregor's image back at him.
Gregor could see how broken he was in his eyes. His reflection told the whole story. A young man, carrying the weight of the world like Atlas did, forced to behave like a god to Regalia. A young man whose body bore the brunt of fierce fighting over the years and whose battle scars spoke more than a thousand words coming from his mouth. A young man whose conscience had been shredded in his struggle to find out who he truly was.
He had come to accept that he was both a hero and a murderer, a soldier and a pacifist. He was a living oxymoron who didn't know the purpose of his existence. In moments like these, Gregor longed to be living back when he was still a kid, when the world was so black and white and simple to understand.
But the world was so much more nuanced than that, and he wasn't ready for it. It was no wonder that Calvin had decided to leave this part of his life behind- there was just far too much pain and far too many moral dilemmas for a boy his age.
Gregor considered the tip of his blade, almost wincing as he imagined it penetrating his flesh and driving right through his sinew and muscle. He reached out absently and gently brushed his finger against its tip, bracing himself for the sharp sting that would accompany his action. But the blade didn't bite him… It just continued to gleam at him reproachfully, appearing to chide him for his lack of trust in it.
Because sometimes, Sandwich's blade was only sharp when it became the spear of Satan- when it was used to claim lives.
Even the greatest hazard in the room, the object which had been the instrument of so much fear and despair, could be harmless in the right hands.
Even power could be innocent, if in the right hands.
He deliberated over that idea, hope and cynicism taking hold in equal measure. Despite all the hope Gregor had lost over the years and despite the darkness which had consumed his soul, was there still hope? Was there still good left in this world? Was it still worth fighting for? Was this his destiny, to wonder about his life for an eternity without finding out the answers?
Could there be a life beyond sulking and fighting?
Fate had moulded him into a killing machine, an unrelenting, inescapable fact which tortured him every time his thoughts wandered into philosophical territory. But deep down, even after witnessing his horrific capacity for cold-blooded murder and even after all the atrocities he had committed, he still felt one emotion running through his body, revitalising damaged muscles and aching bones.
It was the feeling of hope.
Ripred had unknowingly allowed him to see how revenge had almost destroyed Gregor. In his wild spree of vengeance, Gregor had sipped from the poisoned chalice itself and almost died because of it. Gregor had almost ceased to exist, remaining as nothing but a memory of the twisted, warped brute who now breathed in his place.
But somehow, Gregor had pulled himself out of the abyss just when it was about to devour him completely. In those moments, Gregor realised it wasn't just his anger which had consumed him- it was an innate fear of being helpless and to blame. He'd fought through bitter tragedy after bitter tragedy only to find bitter tragedy facing him once again. It had broken him on the inside and left him desperate for change.
But you couldn't respond to tragedy with bitter fury. You had to respond to it with hope, goodness and a belief that you could overcome even the darkest days as long as you had the courage to do so.
Staring at his reflection, Gregor was surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes, so similar to…
So similar to Vikus. The twinkle disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but Gregor's heart softened for a second and small tears welled up in his eyes.
There was hope for him, even when he was stuck in the darkest point of his life.
Feeling mentally refreshed and encouraged suddenly, he closed his eyes and began to recount memories over the last few hours. His incoherent and jumbled thoughts quickly became a linear line of logic as he processed the news he had taken in.
A rumour that Gregor had picked up on in the midst of his operation was that Apollo, Gregor and Ripred had all been acquitted by Luxa and were free of any charges. Again, nothing was really confirmed and Gregor was still prepared to stand trial to answer for his crimes.
He knew he was bringing war to Regalia's doorstep. The inexorable fury that the Fount would rain down on Regalia was all on him. If he hadn't been impulsive and lost control of his feelings, Regalia wouldn't have had to plunge its hands into the filth and get locked in a brawl for power with the Fount. Simply put, he was at fault.
But instead of allowing himself to slip back into despair and mope about, Gregor quietly swore that he would do something about it, even if it meant sacrificing himself in some capacity.
A violent tremor suddenly shook the building, causing Gregor's heart rate to quicken for a couple of seconds. Hoarse shouting could be heard in the distance, and heavy thumping began to reverberate around the room.
Howard suddenly poked his head in and said firmly, "Stay PUT." The doctor then rushed out of the room and Gregor could hear increased thumping outside the corridors.
Gregor closed his eyes and clicked his tongue. Fuzzy images began to realise themselves in front of him- humanoid shapes, claws, wings…
A large mob outside the hospital building. This couldn't be good at all.
Gregor hauled his battered body out of the hospital bed with a groan. He felt like a rusty machine having suffered catastrophic damage. His usually wiry muscles felt like shredded cheddar, and his balance was off, to say the least. He chugged about the room, switching from hospital clothes to the Underland's silk clothing with great difficulty. He glanced quickly at his cloak, wondering whether he should let a symbol of his darkness become a part of his apparel. To him, clothing mattered in his bid to become a new person.
But truth be told, he felt naked without it. He quickly slipped it on and reached out for his sword, giving himself an earnest look while staring at his own reflection.
The blade was only sharp and deadly if its wielder meant for it to be.
Gregor slotted his blade into his scabbard and hitched it onto his belt. He then shuffled out of the room and made his way down the intricate corridors towards the entrance of the hospital. He nearly tripped in fright at the sight in front of him.
A large group of people had amassed outside the hospital, surrounding Howard and shaking their fists angrily at him. Their animalistic and guttural hollering made it impossible for Gregor to decipher what they were saying, but needless to say they were pissed as hell. Howard looked like he was about to be torn to pieces by them.
Recovering his composure quickly, Gregor opened the doors and stepped outside, causing an immediate hush to fall on the crowd. But the incensed shouting quickly resumed, ascending in a crescendo into a cacophony of profanities and the like.
"Get back to your room!" Howard shouted at Gregor, somehow projecting his voice over the jarring noise of the crowd.
"Not a chance," Gregor replied bluntly to Howard, before straining his voice to yell, "QUIET!"
Another hush enveloped the crowd, before one man yelled back, "They're treating traitors in the hospital!"
"I have a duty to do so!" Howard yelled back angrily. "And none of them are traitors!"
"They slaughtered twenty good men at the market!" a woman howled in anguish
"But none of them were involved in it!" Howard protested. "They're just as innocent as those who died in the attack!"
"What's going on?" Gregor asked in a firm and authoritative voice, hoping to command some attention and calm everything down.
"Half a dozen gnawers attacked humans and fliers at the market," Howard explained, his voice itself bristling with fury. "Twenty humans and three fliers were killed. Another two dozen women and children were captured by gnawers and are being held hostage. A huge riot broke out afterwards and these gnawers were injured during the riot."
"Why?" Gregor asked, shocked by the news.
"Rebel gnawers," Howard replied tersely. "They've been living amongst us for years. They probably got word from their brothers near the Fount to unleash a terror attack here."
"Exactly!" one woman wailed as tears gushed down her pale cheeks, "How do we know the gnawers in the hospitals aren't traitors too?"
"Perhaps Lord Ripred is behind this," someone else speculated. "Maybe that's why he attacked the Warrior! It was a coordinated attack!"
"IT WASN'T!" Gregor bellowed, shutting down the rumour instantly. "It was all me."
"The coordinated attack was all yours?" one man asked incredulously.
"No," Gregor replied exasperatedly, "that's not what I mean. I… I…"
Shame became a lump in his throat, and he struggled to say out loud, "I was the one who attacked Ripred." The guilt laced in his words nearly made him choke, but he was able to swallow the lump down and look up, averting his gaze so as to avoid looking at the surprise and disappointment written on everybody's face.
When no one else spoke up, he went on, "The gnawers have lived together in peace with the humans for the last decade. I know times are difficult and sometimes we lose hope. But this isn't a time to turn on each other… Not when this city needs to stay united against our enemies."
"How can be united when we can't even trust each other?" another man in the crowd retorted. "We trusted each other, and the gnawers repaid that trust by killing us!"
"The actions of a few do not represent the intentions of the majority," Howard argued, "especially when the gnawers have done their part in preserving our peace."
"Whose side are you really on?" the same man spat back at Howard.
"He's on Regalia's side," Gregor stated fiercely, "and he always will be. Doctor Howard has seen years of patients and has served Regalia faithfully. The least you can do is to give him due respect for what he has done."
Gregor's rebuke actually shamed the man into silence. He shuffled back a couple of steps and murmured, "Forgive me, Warrior. I spoke out of hand."
"There is no need for any forgiveness," Gregor responded kindly, "but I need to know what the Council is doing about this."
"They are currently discussing this issue in the Council hall," Howard answered. "Perhaps it is fitting that you join them and deliberate over Regalia's course of action. Shall I escort you there?"
"No harm," Gregor replied simply, stretching out his arm and indicating for Howard to lead the way. His body hadn't fully recovered, and he was probably going to need a medical professional like Howard to stay by his side for the next couple of days if he wanted to stay in the thick of the action.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Howard led Gregor down the bruised streets of Regalia. Gregor caught sight of a rat and a human squaring off against each other, before backing away reluctantly after a soldier intervened. Other rats and humans just glared at each other with intense distrust and hatred. The tension in the air was palpable.
"You should be resting your body," Howard said once he was sure that their voices were out of earshot.
"I should be out here," Gregor replied adamantly, "They need me now, more than ever before."
"They need you now? After that spectacular show you put up with Ripred?" Howard scoffed, "I'm not sure they trust you as much as before, especially now that you've confessed that you started the fight."
"Maybe," Gregor sighed, "But they've got no one else to turn to."
"I lied, you know," Howard said abruptly.
Gregor frowned and faced him. "I'm sorry?"
"One of the gnawers behind the attack in the market is in the hospital," Howard admitted. "I treated him personally and he's resting now. The soldiers killed most of the gnawers involved in the attack, but he survived."
The look of conflict on Howard's face made Gregor feel immense pity for the doctor. Whatever dilemmas Gregor faced as a soldier were dwarfed when it came to the dilemmas Howard faced. He had sworn to help those in need, but treading the line between duty and one's personal conscience was a fine line for a doctor.
"I couldn't tell them the truth," Howard continued, "or they'd rush in there and tear him from limb to limb. I was so close to doing it myself."
They trudged down the streets in silence for a little while, before Gregor spoke up, "Remember that time when Twitchtip was drowning?"
"Bless her soul," Howard mumbled. "She was a good gnawer. She was way ahead of her time… She knew the importance of peace. Twitchtip was the first to teach us that not all gnawers are evil."
"Mm hmm," Gregor replied with a nostalgic smile. "She did just that. But you guys didn't trust her at first, remember?"
Howard's face went on full display of bitter guilt as he replied, "It was my worst day as a doctor. I treated her life as… as something less, just because she was a gnawer. I almost let her drown when I had the power to save her."
"Yea," Gregor recalled, "but look where we've come. You're saving gnawers, even when they've hurt other people. You don't look at a gnawer any different than how you look at a human."
They both glanced at each other, and a mutual feeling of understanding and respect was exchanged without any words. The both of them knew what Gregor was trying to say without Gregor having to say anything.
The sudden assault of noise on their ear jolted them out of their melancholic pondering. Gregor found himself staring at two Regalian soldiers pointing their swords at a female rat, whose fur stood on end. She snarled viciously at them before lashing out wildly, nearly catching one soldier's throat.
Gregor's line of vision began to align itself behind her back, eliciting a barely concealed gasp from him.
Four or five little pups cowered behind her back, shaking uncontrollably like autumn leaves in the midst of a hungry hurricane. They squeaked softly, but loud enough for Gregor's echolocation-trained ears to pick up on the fear that gripped them.
"Archers!" one soldier called out.
A couple of bowmen moved out of dark corners and into the light, before aiming arrows at the female rat, who was now gnashing her teeth together furiously. "Sandwich," Howard muttered.
"Back off, snakes!" the rat snapped at them.
"This is your last chance to follow us peacefully, gnawer," the other soldier warned. "We only wish to speak to you."
"Liar!" the rat hissed at them. "I've heard the noises. We've all heard the noises. You are going to torture us for information, aren't you?"
"It will be nothing of that sort, gnawer," the soldier assured her, even though Gregor could detect an edge to his voice. "Regalia exercises fairness to all its inhabitants."
"Sure," she replied sarcastically, "I believe you. Do you think our brothers and sisters are choosing to rebel against Regalia for no reason at all? Do you really think it's just a fanatical cult worshipping the Bane?"
"We don't think it is a cult," the soldier replied coldly. "We KNOW it is a cult."
"This cult was created by the killers," she spat back at them. "You all have been oppressing us for months and years without even realising it. So much for Queen Luxa assuring us that we could live together in peace… It was all just a ruse for the killers to use us as slaves for your own damn agenda. That's why there's a cult, soldier- Because you all gave us no other choice."
"Follow us now, gnawer," the soldier repeated himself. "Or…"
"Or what? You'll hurt me? You'll kill me? Not like the killers in the streets aren't doing it already," she replied. "Innocent gnawers are being beaten up by killers and are on the verge of death just because of some black sheep amongst us. Our homes are being ransacked and destroyed. But instead of stopping all of this from happening, you soldiers are just rounding even more innocent gnawers up for torture sessions."
"Please do not force our hand, gnawer," the soldier said with a sense of finality in his tone.
"DON'T YOU DARE call me 'gnawer' again," she snarled, "My name is Redclaw. But you don't give a shit, do you? At the end of the day, we're just another scumbag gnawer to you. You won't arrest your own kind but you'd be willing to commit mass genocide and discrimination against us. Well, let me tell you something, killers. You've been pushing at us for far too long, and now we're going to push back."
"Fire!" the soldier barked.
"NO!" Gregor yelled, but it was far too late to intervene.
Two arrows rocketed through the air like speeding bullets. The first arrow hit Redclaw's shoulder, causing her to rear back in pain and stand on her hind legs, while the second arrow…
Went right through her heart.
Her pups unleashed a terrified howl of anguish as their mother landed on the ground with a cold thud. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" Gregor hollered at the soldiers as he rushed over to her side.
"She posed a threat," one soldier answered, appearing slightly shaken, "She had to be taken out."
"Jesus, what have you done?" Gregor cursed away in panic. "HOWARD!"
"I'm here," he replied, appearing at Gregor's side and leaning over to gaze at her injuries.
"We're done here," the soldier said stoically, and the rest of them joined him in leaving the scene.
Gregor spat out another profanity in frustration before turning to face Redclaw. Blood was slowly trickling out of her mouth, inching its way down her limp body. Her eyes, blazing with intense hate earlier, were now dull and almost lifeless.
"There's nothing I can do," Howard concluded after inspecting the injury. "The wound is fatal."
"Warrior," Reclaw croaked out suddenly, and another spurt of blood sprayed out of her mouth like a dying fountain.
"I'm here," Gregor replied quickly. "I'm here."
"We're… not… the… enemies," she wheezed. "We've… done… no… wrong."
"I know. Those soldiers… those soldiers will pay for what they've done."
"No," she choked out slowly, shaking her head. "Don't… retaliate. No more… no more fighting. Or more… of us… will join… the rebels. We have… we need… peace… we… peace…"
Her speech became more garbled and incoherent and her words became unintelligible. Soon, she closed her eyes and her head drooped forward.
Gregor bowed his head in despair. She was just a mother trying to protect her children. But because she was a rat, because she was different, the Regalian soldiers slaughtered her. They slaughtered her in cold blood.
Gregor looked up, his heart burning with anger and he shook with absolute fury. They would all answer for this. Every single one of them.
But one word from Redclaw suddenly doused all those scorching flames out.
"Peace."
She was right. Fighting and bloodshed couldn't be the answer. Even if that meant that justice had to be ignored, even if that meant that the scales of justice had to weigh in favour of corruption and evil, even if Lady Justice had to be violated. For the sake of peace, good people had to be sacrificed without retribution. The price was always heavier for those who tried to protect the greater good, but the price had to be paid.
"Bring them to Dulcet," Gregor ordered Howard, as he stared at Redclaw's pups huddling together in one corner.
"You need someone to escort-" Howard began, but Gregor cut him off.
"I can manage. They need someone to take care of them. The humans will no longer play nice, even with pups," Gregor said bleakly. "The streets aren't safe for them."
Howard nodded, before heading over to gather the whimpering pups up. Just as Gregor turned around to make his way to the Council hall alone, Howard spoke up.
"Make sure that you stop this madness."
Without turning back around to face Howard, Gregor said, "I will."
He then made his way down the winding streets, careful to keep his head down and maintain a low profile. The last thing he wanted was for his presence to spark off another riot or fight. As he made his way past the market, he actually staggered back from the wake of destruction in front of him.
Red marks were streaked across the pavement, and Gregor was sure it wasn't from the fruits. The cobblestones were torn from the ground and were scattered all across like seeds from a pea pod. The stench of rotting flesh seemed to linger in the air with sadistic glee. Gregor had seen scenes of mass destruction back in the Overland, whether it was from hurricanes or earthquakes. And yet all of that seemed so trivial when compared to this.
The scene in front of him spoke a thousand words of the internal turmoil and strife Regalia was enduring. The rotting plants that lay strewn across the ground and the smell of the stale, germ-infested streets that slowly eroded away served as portents of the calamity at Regalia's doorstep.
This was the stuff of nightmares.
A quick glance at the rat's designated living area sent a shiver down his spine. About a quarter of the homes were on fire, and he could hear violent shouting echoing through the streets. For a split second, he was tempted to go there and fight the humans and soldiers off. They had no right to take these rats' lives away from them. There was no reason to suspect each and every one of them just because some rats were involved in an attack.
Back in the Overland, this was called racism. But down in the Underland? It could be dismissed as something necessary for the welfare of the city. In fact, down in the Underland it was worse than all the blatant racism on the streets of America. The racism was subtle and unexposed, sinisterly gnawing away at Regalia's soul. It had to be stopped.
But Gregor took in a deep breath and focused. He had a mission which could protect the rats far more than going over there and throwing himself into a fight.
Gregor gingerly made his way past the metaphysical chaos in front of him and tried to ignore the glaring red stains that screamed at him from their spots, begging for his attention. He made his way out of the streets and past the arena, which looked tired and weary all of a sudden.
The fire in the Council hall was lit, which meant that a session was going on at that very moment. The perfect time for Gregor to make an entrance and get Regalia's head back in the game.
He pushed the double doors open and was greeted with a stunned silence. The chairs that were overturned in his fight with Ripred seemed to be upright now, while their blood stains were nowhere in sight, meaning that they had been cleaned up prior to this session. But there was no mistaking the look of fear and trepidation in everyone's eyes.
They knew what had happened in the Council hall.
"I apologise for interrupting this session," he said as politely and as formally as he could manage. "May I join you guys?"
Daedalus beckoned for him to take his seat amongst the uneasy crowd. "Thank you for gracing this session with your presence, Warrior," the old bat purred. "We look forward to hearing from you, especially considering the circumstances which this city is in. You have made a very timely appearance, because we have gotten to the most important part of the discussion."
Luxa tilted her head as Gregor took his seat amongst the audience members. Her eyes were so complex at the moment that it was difficult to know what she was thinking. He normally read her like an open book, but ever since his break-up with her she suddenly seemed so mysterious and aloof. It was now virtually impossible to decipher her thoughts.
But for a split second, Gregor caught sight of what looked like pity in her eyes.
Pity?
For him?
Gregor just shook his head and dismissed it. There would be time later on to find out what that pity means.
"The rebel gnawers have positioned themselves in caves which are a ten-minute flight away from Regalia," one Council member reported. "The Fount has marshalled its forces and has joined the rebel gnawers in the caves."
So York's threat wasn't empty after all. They were going to go to war against Regalia.
"This thus confirms the rumour," Daedalus continued, "that the Fount has allied themselves with the rebels. This means that as of this hour, we are officially at war with the Fount."
A huge commotion erupted, but Daedalus shut it down swiftly. "SILENCE PLEASE! I know that this is disconcerting news, but we have more urgent issues. Gnawers loyal to the rebels have kidnapped women and children under the name of Bane, and are holding them hostage in the caves. Our spies initially estimated a total of two dozen women and children being held hostage. The newest report coming in is that the hostages actually number over a hundred."
Shocked and panicked gasps punctuated Daedalus' ominous revelation. Another Council member, a small mouse, then spoke up, "However, both the Fount and the rebel gnawers have made a joint announcement that they will exchange the hostages for a fee of a thousand gold coins, and something else."
"What else?" Gregor asked immediately.
The Council member eyed him and said softly, "You, Warrior."
And that's it for this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it too boring. This chapter, in case you haven't realised, serves as a parallel or an allegory of our real world problems. What problems? If you can figure it out, write down your thoughts in the reviews section! These themes were touched on in Regalian Bloodbath, but I'm expanding them here. So yes, please feel free to air your thoughts on these themes.
And yea, this is the start of a more hopeful and optimistic Gregor. Over this month, I've had time to craft his character a bit better, and you'll notice some of his dialogue reveals how he's become much less depressed and bitter and cynical.
Favourites and follows are always welcome! Please drop a review! I really need those.
Question: Apart from the question I mentioned a few paragraphs ago, here's another one: What should Gregor do? Feel free to express your thoughts in the reviews section!
