He knew he was no spineless crook, but he also knew he did not care, not even a little. And in five days, he’d be free from the burden he’d taken on his shoulders. The same burden he was still uncertain why he’d taken upon himself to complete when he knew finer men than him had rejected it, given up on saving what couldn’t be saved. The realm was meant to die, and few had defied that fate. All those that had done so were only those terrified of dying, none who wished to live so much as they were afraid of dying.
