Page 1639 -- CLXXVII. (Patreon)

At length, however, Hector thought of something he wanted to ask. ‘...When did you change? And how?’

‘My views didn’t change until about a hundred years after I became a reaper,’ said Garovel. ‘That was when I decided to start traveling. As for “how”... well. There wasn’t any singular cause, I’d say. It was more a cumulative effect. I was slow to change my mind--as you might expect from someone who’d lived that way his entire life.’

‘...Is that why you decided to start taking servants? To make up for... all of that?’

The reaper paused again. ‘Yes. That would be fair to say.’

‘I... see.’

‘It’s also why I would like to turn Warrenhold into a place of safeguarding knowledge, if possible. Maybe it’s too little, too late, but I’d still like to try, nonetheless.’

Hector didn’t know what to say.

Garovel left it at that for a while, and Hector just allowed his thoughts to swirl in his mind, not really holding onto or trying to unpack any of them. He felt like he understood Garovel much better now, and yet he didn’t know what to make of that understanding.

He didn’t feel like he disliked Garovel any more, though. And that was strange. Because he should have, shouldn’t he? Was his friendship with Garovel making him completely overlook this?

That didn’t seem right...

But maybe there was more to it than just that. It was so long ago, and Garovel obviously regretted it. And Hector didn’t know any of the people whom Garovel had killed, so...

Ugh.

Hector felt intensely uncomfortable with himself. He didn’t think any less of Garovel. But he might’ve thought less of himself.

Maybe he was just thinking that way because it was familiar, though. Easier.

Agh. So confusing. He couldn’t tell if he was being honest with himself about any of this. He only knew that it felt very strange and that he didn’t like it.

In time, Garovel spoke up again. ‘I can sense the bottom. You should try to protect your Scarf, if you can. Don’t want to get blood all over it.’

Hector removed it and boxed it in iron.

Then he blacked out.

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Seven: ‘Attend to thee...’

When he awoke, Hector was nude. He was not surprised, though. While he hadn’t felt the impact from fall, it must have surely been enough to obliterate his whole body and force Garovel to regrow him from scratch. Mere iron armor certainly hadn’t protected him from that shit.

The clothes he’d been wearing were soaked in blood and flesh and even splintered bits of bone, but Zeff was there to jetwash and steam-press them for him.

They weren’t in very good shape afterward, though. The Lord Elroy wasn’t the most delicate launderer. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be cleaned with water. And of course, the multiple fights with worms and the impact from the fall just now probably hadn’t done them any favors, either. They were hardly even recognizable compared to when he’d first gotten them, which was only a week or so ago, back in Babbadelo.