Hero Of Broken History

"WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

Leontis's declaration rang through their suite for what had to be the twentieth time in the past hour. He'd been pacing increasingly dramatic circles around the sitting room, cape billowing with manufactured wind, occasionally stopping to strike poses of existential dread.

"The protagonist refuses to be ended by some wrinkly death enthusiast! This cannot be how the story concludes!"

"For the last time," Kai said from where he'd been aggressively reorganizing his knife collection, "we're not going to die. We just need a plan."

"A plan?" Seren looked up from the historical texts she'd been frantically searching through, as if some long-dead scholar might have written 'How to Survive Ancient Death Mancers for Dummies.' "He's five hundred years old! He probably has contingencies for his contingencies!"

"The contingencies probably have their own contingencies," Kai muttered, testing another blade's edge.

Avian watched from his chair by the fireplace, finding their panic oddly entertaining. He'd faced death plenty of times – had the arrow scars to prove it – but watching others process impending doom for the first time had its own charm.

Like watching puppies discover rain. All confusion and indignation at the universe's audacity.

"Three days," Seren continued, voice climbing. "Three days before he 'collects us personally.' What does that even mean? Does he stuff us? Mount us on his wall? Turn us into those meat puppet things?"

"The protagonist votes against becoming a meat puppet!" Leontis proclaimed. "It lacks narrative dignity!"

Lux, sprawled on her back by the fire, watched the chaos with the serene amusement of a divine being who'd seen worse. Occasionally she'd spark in what looked suspiciously like laughter.

"Maybe we could run?" Seren suggested hopefully. "Leave the city? The country? Find a nice quiet monastery somewhere that doesn't have death mancers?"

"He tracked us to our hotel," Kai pointed out. "Sent a polite death threat via room service. Running just means dying tired."

"Then we fight!" Leontis drew his lute like a sword. "Three days to prepare! Training montage! Dramatic power-ups! The classic pre-boss battle preparation arc!"

"This isn't a story," Seren snapped. "This is real life where real death mancers turn us into real corpses!"

"Everything's a story if you frame it right," Leontis countered.

They'd been at this for an hour. Circles of panic, bargaining, and increasingly wild suggestions. Avian had heard proposals ranging from hiring their own death mancers (Kai) to appealing to the gods for divine intervention (Leontis) to faking their own deaths and living as traveling cheese merchants (Seren, after her third glass of wine).

Amazing how impending doom brings out creativity. Stupid creativity, but creativity nonetheless.

"What we need," Avian said finally, causing everyone to stop mid-panic, "is allies. Someone with the authority and power to make even an Elder think twice."

"The Emperor?" Kai suggested.

"Can't get an audience in three days. His secretary's secretary has a secretary."

"The Church?" Seren offered.

"The same Church that's funding death mancers? Pass."

"The protagonist suggests—"

"If you say 'the power of friendship,' I'm throwing you out the window."

Leontis closed his mouth, pouting.

"The Gold Knights," Avian continued. "Empire's premier military order. Mandate to hunt supernatural threats. Authority to act without bureaucratic approval in emergencies."

"They won't believe us," Kai said. "Bronze-rank adventurers claiming conspiracy? They'd laugh us out of the building."

"Not if they discover it themselves," Seren said slowly, that dangerous gleam entering her eyes. "During an investigation they initiated..."

"Keep talking," Avian encouraged.

"Goldus Merchantius. He's been funding the death mancers, we have proof of that. He's also under scrutiny for debts, smuggling, tax evasion." She pulled out the ledgers they'd taken. "If the Gold Knights searched his offices for financial crimes..."

"And happened to find evidence of necromantic connections," Kai continued, catching on. "They'd have to investigate. Can't ignore death magic, even if you stumbled on it by accident."

"But we'd need to plant the evidence," Avian pointed out. "Make it look natural."

"I can help with that," Seren said, then blushed at their stares. "I mean, I study historical documents. I know how authentic papers should look, how they age, what kind of wear patterns develop. It's purely academic knowledge!"

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"Academic knowledge of forgery," Kai grinned. "I love it."

"It's not forgery if we're using real documents," she protested. "Just... selective placement."

"The protagonist volunteers for the infiltration mission!" Leontis announced.

"No," everyone said immediately.

"We need someone who actually understands subtlety," Avian said.

They all looked at Kai.

"Why does everyone assume— you know what, fair." Kai shrugged. "I've been watching Goldus since our first encounter. Paranoid habit."

"You've been stalking him?" Seren asked.

"Surveillance. Completely different. More professional." Kai pulled out a small notebook. "He leaves his office every day at noon for lunch at the Golden Peacock. Two-hour meal because apparently eating is the only joy in his miserable life. Returns at two, complains about his digestion until three."

"That's very specific," Avian noted.

"I may have bribed a few servants. And a waiter. And that guy who sells flowers outside his building." Kai grinned. "What? Information is currency, and I like being rich."

Kid thinks like a survivor. No wonder I actually like him.

"So you could get in during his lunch?" Avian asked.

"Easy. Two guards at the front who think scowling equals vigilance. One at the back who takes smoke breaks every hour. Building has decent locks but nothing I haven't picked before."

"I'll need time to prepare the documents," Seren said, already pulling out papers. "Make them look authentic. The right wear patterns, fold marks, maybe some staining..."

"Coffee stains," Kai suggested. "Goldus strikes me as the type to spill on important papers."

"The protagonist offers distraction services!" Leontis tried again. "A performance so magnificent the guards won't notice a siege engine rolling past!"

Avian considered. "Actually... that might help. Guards get bored, love entertainment. Gives them something to watch besides doors."

"Really?" Leontis brightened. "The protagonist's ideas are acknowledged?"

"Just don't make it too dramatic. We want distraction, not a city-wide event."

"The protagonist makes no promises about containing his magnificence!"

They spent the next two hours refining the plan. Seren experimented with aging techniques, testing different methods on spare paper. Too much wear looked suspicious, too little looked fresh. She finally settled on a combination of careful crumpling, strategic coffee stains, and something involving lemon juice that made the edges yellow convincingly.

"Where'd you learn that?" Kai asked, watching her work.

"Academic journals sometimes reference restoration techniques," she said defensively. "I'm simply applying them in reverse!"

"Uh huh. And I'm sure that's the only reason."

"It is!"

Meanwhile, Avian and Kai mapped out the approach. Building layout, guard positions, optimal entry points. Kai's surveillance proved valuable – he knew which windows had broken latches, which guards were lazy, even which floorboards creaked.

"Third floor, northeast corner office," Kai said, sketching. "Balcony access is easiest. He never locks it because he thinks height equals security."

"Exit strategy?"

"Same way, or through the building if things go bad. I've got three different routes mapped."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. We tip off the Gold Knights in the afternoon, they'll investigate day after. Gives us a buffer."

"The protagonist requests a role beyond mere distraction!" Leontis interjected. "Perhaps dramatic backup? Heroic rescue if needed?"

"How about lookout?" Avian suggested. "Someone needs to watch for Goldus returning early."

"Lookout?" Leontis deflated. "That's not very protagonist-like."

"It's vital to mission success."

"...The protagonist accepts this vital role with dignity and grace!"

As plans solidified, Avian found himself oddly optimistic. It wasn't a perfect solution – the Elder would still come for them – but having the Gold Knights investigating death mancers would complicate his plans. Maybe buy them time. Maybe even provide backup if things went completely sideways.

Or maybe we're just adding witnesses to our eventual murders. But at least we're being proactive about it.

"One more thing," he said as they prepared to separate for the night. "The Church connection. Someone with divine authority is funding this. When the Gold Knights investigate, they might dig deeper than we expect."

"Good," Seren said firmly. "If the Church is corrupted, it needs exposing."

"Even if it shakes the Empire's foundations?"

"Especially then. Truth matters more than comfortable lies."

Idealistic. But I said the same thing once. Right before the arrow.

"Just be prepared," Avian warned. "When you pull threads this old, sometimes the whole tapestry unravels."

"The protagonist thrives on unraveling!" Leontis declared. "Narrative chaos is the best chaos!"

"That's... actually true," Kai admitted.

They finalized details – timing, signals, contingencies. By the time they finished, Avian felt something he hadn't experienced in a while: cautious hope. They had a plan. It probably wouldn't work perfectly, but it was better than waiting to die.

"Get some rest," he told them. "Tomorrow we commit several crimes in the name of preventing worse crimes."

"The moral complexity!" Leontis swooned dramatically. "The protagonist's character development accelerates!"

"Just remember," Kai said, grinning, "if we get caught, I'm blaming Avian. This was all his idea."

"It was Seren's idea," Avian protested.

"I merely suggested a theoretical possibility!" Seren said quickly. "You're the ones making it reality!"

"The protagonist accepts no blame but all credit!"

As they bickered good-naturedly, Avian felt that dangerous warmth in his chest again. Allies. Friends, maybe. People who faced death with humor and determination instead of running.

Going to get them killed. Just like last time. But at least they'll die trying something stupid instead of waiting for the end.

It wasn't much comfort. But it was enough.

Tomorrow, they'd forge evidence and frame a merchant to manipulate the Empire's elite warriors into fighting their battles. It was complicated, probably illegal, definitely dangerous.

But it beat sitting around waiting for an ancient death mancer to make good on his promise.

Besides, Avian thought as his companions finally retired, what's the worst that could happen?

Thunder rumbled outside, because apparently the universe loved dramatic timing.

I really need to stop asking that question.