Xykon was defeated, goblinkind ascended from monstrous to player race, the threat of the Snarl was eliminated, and The Order of the Stick claimed victory as heroes. At least, what remained of The Order of the Stick.

As Elan, Haley, Roy, and Vaarsuvius traveled to the city where they would be showered with gratitude and their mighty deeds celebrated, they barely spoke or made eye contact with one another.

Despite everyone dying for a random encounter to dull or distract from the grief of losing Belkar and Durkon, the return march was uneventful. Aside from Elan and Haley speaking quietly from time to time, the group was mute.

The dancing, treasure, Xykon piñata, games, pony rides, food and booze felt perfunctory and joyless.

The ice sculptures in the melting likenesses of dead heroes bummed everyone out.

Most folks who knew the departed began telling stories to comfort each other. For hours, the stories centered on everyone's love and admiration for Durkon. His laugh, his kindness. His aversion to trees. There was no dearth of material.

"Even though I knew his death was coming, watching Xykon take down Belkar crushed my spirit more than expected," Roy admitted when the topic of Belkar finally came up.

"You knew Belkar's death was coming?"

The conversation halted after V's icy question. Roy tried to play it off.

"I knew he would probably die. I mean, that it was likely. I-it was a dangerous battle."

"You said you knew his death was coming. How did you know his death was coming, Sir Greenhilt?"

Vaarsuvius stunk of a lot of wine and a little vomit. Their stance became hostile, causing others to grow nervous and distant. Roy could tell he'd been caught in a lie of omission, and decided to confess.

"When I was dead, I was able to scry on the Oracle, who gave me a free prophecy: Belkar will draw his last breath—ever—before the New Year."

The NPCs remaining nearby, sensing main character drama, scuttled away to other areas of the party. The mood had taken a dark turn.

"Did you tell him?"

"What?"

Vaarsuvius unleashed their voice's full volume.

"DID YOU TELL HIM HE WOULD DIE? OR WAS HE BLINDSIDED?"

Elan and Haley both approached Vaarsuvius gently, attempting to de-escalate.

"Woah, woah, buddy—"

"—I'm sure Roy did his best to—"

"I didn't tell him."

Roy's surviving teammates goggled at him in horror.

"If I had a year or less left to live… I'd want to know, Roy," Haley said slowly. "And I think you would too. Did you think you were being kind? Why didn't you tell him? Or us, for that matter?"

Despite having thought extensively about the issue, when to tell him or whether to tell him, Roy couldn't land on a satisfying answer.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know exactly why I didn't tell him, or any of you. I thought a lot about which course of action would cause the least suffering. And I didn't want to make things worse by intervening. I couldn't decide logically, so I went with my gut: if he lived through the Final Dungeon, I would tell him then."

Vaarsuvius, enraged, clenched their teeth and fists quickly. For an instant it looked like they were about to throw hands at Roy.

But soon, their boiling fury froze over. After getting a hold on themself, they turned on one heel and wordlessly exited the room.