Legends Never Die: The Nature of Vengeance (ch. 30) (Patreon)

Morrigan slapped me. Hard. I couldn't even say that I saw the blow coming either, because one moment, I was standing in front of the great tree, watching as the bodies were removed and coming to terms with what I had just agreed to. Then I I heard the furious crunching of snow and by the time I thought to look over, I was greeted by Morrigan's palm as it struck me with enough force that I nearly toppled over. Still unsteady from my injuries my injuries, I staggered a step, the harsh sound ringing out jarringly in the quiet and somber grove.

Morrigan's expression was twisted into a furious snarl, her hand clenching into a fist that trembled with white knuckles, huffs of fog escaping her nostrils as she glared at me with golden eyes that were filled to the absolute brim with fury. "Fool!" She shouted as I rubbed my tenderized cheek. That hurt. "You damned fool!" I thought she might take another swing, but instead she stomped away from me in a huff. I watched her back, still rubbing my cheek, seeing the restraint that she was displaying because her posture told me that she wanted nothing more than to slap me again.

"Ha!" I heard someone bark a laugh, and to my relief, when I made to shoot a glare at whoever did laugh, it was Thorkell. One of the first things that I noticed was that he also hadn't escaped unscathed. There was a bandage on his face, over one eye. Still, he wore an easy smile as he approached, the loss in vision seemingly not bothering him any. "That's a fine woman right there. The good ones always know when to smack some sense into their men," he continued as he approached, reaching out a hand and we clasped firearms. "Glad to see you're in one piece, Seig."

I was glad to be in one. "Are you?" I asked him, my gaze lingering on his eye patch, but Thorkell waved me off.

"I still have the eye," Thorkell confirmed. "Took a blade to the white of it, but it's too early to tell if I'll get to see through it. It's a small price to pay. We were lucky to leave that city at all." He remarked, looking me over for any obvious signs of injury. I had a number of nicks and cuts, some worse than others, but they had been stitched or burned close. The worst was the arrow I took, but beyond the pain I felt when I moved my arm, I seemed to be whole.

Still, the potential loss of an eye was no small thing, even if Thorkell accepted the injury with grace. It was a reminder that while we managed to escape, we did not manage it whole. Five hundred men had been lost when the tunnels collapsed. That was another setback for me as much as it was King Widukind. "I don't suppose you know what sense she was trying to knock into me?"

"Probably that you shouldn't have stayed behind to fight with the rearguard," Thorkell told me, sounding like he agreed with her, but at the same time, didn't. "She was pretty distraught when she learned you stayed behind. Just don't tell her that I said that. She'd end up smacking some sense into me too." To that, I let out a huff and a smile tugged at my lips. I could see that. She'd make Thorkell kneel down before she did it too.

"I won't say a word. And I didn't have a choice," I told him, seeing Thorkell nod slowly.

He scratched at the edge of his bandage that was held in place with a strip of cloth for a moment. "I don't know about no choice," Thorkell remarked. "Doing what Morrigan wanted would've been the smarter call. She's not wrong there. But I can't say that I wouldn't be disappointed if you did cut and run," he continued, his gaze going to the great tree. The seedling of Yggdrasil. "That's probably not really fair to say. Favored by the gods or not, you are just one man."

Am I? I wondered, looking at the piles of heads. My faith in the gods was… shaken. No, that wasn't right. I still believed in the gods. I knew them. They spoke to me. But in the past year… "I always thought that being favored by the gods meant nothing bad would happen to me," I admitted to Thorkell, who gave me a surprised look. "I thought it meant that… everything would always be okay. No matter what."

It would mean that my family would always be healthy and happy. It would mean that life's hardships would make themselves known on occasion, but they would slide off of us without any lasting impact. That it would mean that I would win. Always. In everything, simply because the gods chose me. They favored me. Honored me.

"I don't think the gods favor works like that anymore," I admitted to Thorkell.

"You think the gods collapsed the tunnel?" He asked me and I hesitated to nod.

I pursed my lips, "I think they allowed it to collapse." I don't think the gods weakened the supports with their own hands, deliberately trying to kill me. But I did think that they had the opportunity to ensure that the supports held until we all could evacuate. And instead of giving us that time, they allowed them to collapse. They weren't working against me with their actions, they were simply allowing things to happen with their inaction. "Perhaps it was a test," I allowed, hoping that the gods would talk to me now.

Here, in the sacred grove, however desecrated it might be… I wish they would make their intentions known.

"I think you passed their test," Thorkell voiced his opinion, his tone unusually firm. "You held strong. You had every chance to leave, but you didn't. You fought until the bitter end, and only made your escape when you could take the rest with you. That's what people are going to say- that's what they are saying. You proved your valor to the gods that day, Siegfried. More than any other man in the world," He told me, looking at me and I felt my skin start to flush as he heaped praise onto me. Thorkell's faith in me wasn't a secret, but it was a first for me to receive such naked praise.

"I hope so," I admitted. I didn't know what the gods wanted, but they couldn't be displeased with me, could they?

"Are we staying to fight?" Thorkell questioned after a moment and I offered a small nod.

My lips thinned, "They deserve vengeance." I told him, not making any excuses.

To my relief, Thorkell nodded. "Aye, they do. Good. The smart thing would be to cut our losses now, but… I would have asked to stay. If only to bloody the bastards that did this. They mocked the gods." A sigh escaped him -- something that I noticed everyone was doing. The air of melancholy was only matched by the air of anger over the camp -- we expected to leave Frankfurt victorious and to continue our conquest, only to be bloodied as we left the city and greeted by butchery. "Still, feels to me that the war is a done deal now."

I didn't think he was wrong there. "I think it depends on how people respond when they learn of this," I voiced my opinion. This was sickening. I didn't even know how to describe it. It was enough to make me make peace, however temporary, with a son of Horrik. I could only imagine the response from the people that lost loved ones today. Some might be cowed by the slaughter, I didn't doubt that. Others…

No matter what, one thing was certain. King Charlemagne had incurred a vast blood debt.

"It just depends on if people are more scared than angry," I added, finding myself letting out a sigh as the future weighed heavily on me. Thorkell grunted in response. I expected that there would be at least one more battle regardless. The warriors here wanted blood. The people of Saxony, however… this war completely hinged on their response. Would they take up arms? Or would they bow their heads?

"I'd rest up, Seigfried," Thorkell said after a moment. "King Widukind is a clever one. No one will know that better than him, and the best way to thumb the scales in our favor is to spread the news with word of a victory. Getting out of the city isn't enough. People are going to want to hear of reprisals to feel emboldened." He remarked, and I nodded, feeling cold and weak. A victory that I knew I would have a role to play in.

Wishing Thorkell well, I gave the piles of heads a lingering glance before turning away and making my way back to my tent. I understood the eyes that were on me far better now. I did my best to appear strong, but it did feel a bit silly considering that I wore nothing but a blanket that just barely warded off the bitter chill. And not dressing before I left the tent became something I soon found that I regretted when I passed through the center of the camp.

"Stop this! Stop this madness!" I heard a familiar voice cry out in Germanic. The sheer amount of fear and anger in the voice made it all but unrecognizable to me, so I was surprised when I looked over to see that it was Otto. I nearly missed a step, seeing the priest's eyes wide with fear even as he wielded a stick to ward off the men that surrounded him. Something that earned jeers and laughs all around as a good dozen men rapidly grew in number when others noticed the scene like I did. "Get back! Get back!" He shouted, taking a wild swing at a warrior, who stepped out of the way as Otto stepped on the hem of his robe, pulling his entire body down into the filthy snow.

One made to hit him, but he was shoved off. "He is Wolf-Kissed's thrall. Only put hands on him if you're willing to lose them," a warrior advised as I made my way to the scene.

"He's making a mess. Wolf-Kissed should discipline his slaves better," The one that raised a foot to kick Otto remarked but he lowered his foot all the same, letting Otto scramble to his feet, wielding the chunk of fire wood like a club. I had never seen Otto like this- no, that wasn't true. I saw him like this only when I first raided that church when we met for the first time.

The men at the back took notice of me, parting ways for me, and the action spurred others to do the same. As the crowd made way for me, I saw what was actually going on. The warriors weren't surrounding Otto, they were surrounding a beheading. A man knelt at a stump, his hands tied behind his back, who was weeping as he muttered prayers so quickly it was like he was trying to say them all at once. Another man kept him still, but his gaze was fixed on a third man that was laid out in the snow, blood dripping from his temple.

The scene became clear enough. The men were going to behead some man, Otto interfered by knocking one out, and he was making a scene to prevent anyone from finishing the job.

Otto's expression was one of complete desperation, "Seigfried! You must stop this madness!" He all but begged, the wood falling from his hands as he fell to his knees. "They intend to murder this man!" He exclaimed, clutching a wooden cross with enough force that I'm surprised that it didn't break. "They've already murdered a dozen others- I couldn't stop them. I couldn't even take their place!" I was taken back by the tears that welled in his eyes, and I looked at the man who was holding the man down.

No one understood a word because Otto was speaking in Frankish.

"You- why are you killing this man?" I asked him, gesturing at the Frank that he had kneeling in front of him.

His expression darkened, "It is a sacrifice, Wolf-Kissed. I lost a sister to the Franks -- we found her body not an hour ago. He needs to die to appease her spirit- I will not have any blood of mine wandering this earth for eternity," The man exclaimed and I found myself agreeing with him. I wouldn't ever deny a man the right to avenge his family or to appease their spirits. Any disagreement I had with the scene faded away, which made it very difficult to meet Otto's eyes because I could see it. He had faith.

He completely believed that I would stop this.

All the same, I met Otto's gaze. "It is a revenge killing, Otto. The man lost kin," I told him, trying to ignore how deeply uncomfortable it was to see Otto's expression crumple with the bitterest of disappointment.

"How can this be vengeance?! This man was captured during the battle outside of Frankfurt! He couldn't have been here!" Otto exclaimed, shouting and going red in the face. "This is simply murder! My heart weeps for the dead, Seigfried. Christian and Pagan alike! I will pray for the souls for everyone that was lost- until my dying day, if I must! But this… this will do nothing but spill more blood." His voice was borderline hysterical, but there was a burning intensity in his gaze.

My lips thinned. "You're a good man, Otto," I told him, voicing my thoughts about him for the first time. No. He wasn't just a good man. I think he could even be a great man. He wasn't strong or a warrior, but I couldn't deny that he was brave and his heart was good. "But you do not know our ways."

His expression wilted, seeing that he wasn't getting through to me. "Don't I?" He shot back, his lips pressed into a thin line while his knuckles were white around his cross. "You want blood to be spilled. You crave vengeance, but do you not see what that… that atrocity was?" He shouted, and I felt a stirring if anger in my chest at that, my nostrils flaring as my gaze narrowed into a glare.

"It is not the same thing," I snapped at him and it was his turn to look indignant.

"It is! Do you really think I felt any different after you raided my church? Slaughtered my flock?!" He all but roared at me with a surprising amount of force. "How do you think we Christians felt every time you razed a church, killing the faithful that only wanted to hide within? For what? Earthly gains? Silver and gold?!" He berated me, making me clench my jaw to swallow a retort.

He didn't understand our way, but I couldn't deny that he had a point. The scale of the butchery couldn't even be compared, but images in my mind flashed of the churches I razed. The people that fled within, who wouldn't surrender or never had a chance to, were then killed as we raided the church for everything of value. I didn't really regret that.

I had no stomach for cowards. For people that were meant to fight but instead hid themselves away, abandoning others to their fate. Such cowards were hardly men at all. They were creatures at best. I never went out of my way to slaughter them, but I would never feel remorse for any fate that fell upon them.

But would King Charlemagne and his people see that? Would they see the cowardice of their people? Or would they see it as the butchery of people that were hiding in a church, praying to their God for salvation? Would they feel the same anger that we felt?

Which forced me to consider something very discomforting -- was this a reprisal for the raids that I did?

Was this my fault?

"You may be right, Otto," I admitted to him in Frankish, speaking in the language so no other would know the truth. I saw hope in his eyes that died a dog's death because he saw my expression before I nodded to someone behind him. "But what he did must have an answer. Until King Charlemagne is greeted by the headsman's axe, the spirits must be appeased in other ways." Otto's expression grew horrified, rounding to the scene behind him just as the man I spoke to earlier raised his axe high and brought it down on the neck of the praying man, who had been held in place by someone else.

The sound that left Otto barely sounded human, and it was completely drowned out by the sound of cheering. Otto sagged, lowering his head as he prayed for the departed man. It didn't feel good, I decided, looking at Otto. The spirits and the gods demanded blood, but it didn't feel good to hurt Otto like this. To disappoint him like this, even if there wasn't a choice.

"Otto," I spoke up, making him look back at me with red tinted eyes. "Take your flock -- the people you protected in Frankfurt, and leave this place. That is all I can do to protect you."

I could see it. He wasn't going to take the offer. He wasn't going to abandon a single Christian soul that we had in our possession. I respected him that much more for it, but he was acting undeniably foolish. "Save who you can save, Otto. The warriors… in the end, they chose to be a part of the fight. The citizens did not. Save them because you can't protect anyone dead." His expression was defiant for a long moment, and I could practically see him dig his heels in, but my words resonated with him. He knew that they were the truth.

"It's not right, Seigfried," he told me, raising to his feet but it looked like an incredible burden had been placed on his shoulders, physically weighing him down. "This… this is not right."

I didn't agree with that. Not completely. "It is our way. And I suspect it is your way as well," I told him a truth that he didn't want to hear. He closed his eyes for a long second, still clutching his cross, but he nodded all the same.

"As you say," he agreed, not at all sounding happy about it. "As you say."

…

There was no goodbye between me and Otto, though I did get word that he left with those that he could. Along with a few extra people that hadn't been a part of his flock, but I'm pretty sure that I was the only one that noticed. It was a poor departure, but an expected one. I couldn't have seen him off even if I wanted to, because not long after the conversation was done I found myself crawling into my bed and utterly exhausted with the day.

It felt like the cold was sapping my strength, leaving me to bundle up on my bed of furs. Yet, exhausted as I felt, my mind felt busy. So many thoughts churned in my head -- about the war, our escape, what would happen next, to what I could have said to Otto that might have convinced him to depart on better terms. It was rather annoying because I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and rest.

All the same, I couldn’t. And it was only after a long failed attempt to sleep that something occurred to me.

My rewards from the gods.

Prowess

Cleave -- With cleave, cutting through has never been easier. Enemies will have 10% less resistance to cutting attacks.

Second Wind -- Pushed to the absolute brink of the users endurance, merely taking a deep breath will restore a measure of it back. Can only be used once per long rest.

Tactics

Drill Instructor -- Increases experience gained by troops through training. Increases Discipline gained through training and decreases discipline lost over time.

Ambusher -- A fair fight is for fools and it has never been easier to avoid one. Increases the effectiveness of ambush tactics and increases concealment for troops.

I didn’t know what to pick, I realized. For either domain. Cleave sounded a great deal like Power Strike, which would make the act of killing easier. However, the bone-deep exhaustion made Second Wind very appealing. It was something that I needed to think about because of Astolfo and people like her. Charlemagne’s Paladins. I was a great killer of men, but my duel with Astolfo taught me that I wasn’t the only great killer, nor could I hope to best anyone in battle.

That being said, out of all of my battles, I only encountered one foe that could fight me on equal footing. It was that thought that tempted me into choosing Second Wind over Cleave, even if I felt torn between the two. Second Wind would simply see more use than Cleave because I already had Power Strike. I was already a deadly killer, and Cleave would only make me more deadly to people that I could kill with ease.

For tactics, it was an interesting choice because Drill Instructor appeared again. I hadn’t picked it before, but it seemed like the gods were pushing it even though I was more tempted to pick Ambusher. My time raiding taught me how effective ambushes were against the enemy -- but… perhaps that was the point of the choice they presented before me. Ambushes were effective, but they weren’t glorious battle.

Was it a test? My lips thinned, indecisive for a long few minutes as I looked between the choices with blurry eyes. To see if I cared more about winning than glory? I’m not sure that I didn’t. Glory came easily to me and winning seemed far more difficult to achieve, especially now.

However, I chose Drill Instructor. Not because of what I thought or what the gods wanted, but because of what Otto said. His words rang in my head like a bell. He didn’t understand our ways, and he was a fool for claiming to understand what he didn’t, but I couldn’t deny what he said struck a cord with me. Simply because he voiced my own thoughts from when I went out on my first raid.

I hadn’t cared for how it had been done. And when I began to raid as a leader, I did nothing to change how things were done simply because it was easier not to and it no longer bothered me as it once did. Drill Instructor… that was a way to change things. To make them how I desired them. I wasn’t even sure how I would change things, only that something would and Drill Instructor was the gift that would make it easier for me.

Boons

Map -- The mapping function will be enabled, automatically recording everything within a one-mile radius including; terrain, elevation, rivers, urban development, and forests.

True Vision -- A secondary sight that marks things of importance with gold. True Vision acts independently of user knowledge, allowing user to find items, things, or trails of note without knowing why they are important.

I nearly picked Map out of reflex the moment that I saw it. That sounded incredible. A map of everything within a mile around me? In addition to reports from my scouts, that was a very powerful combination. Knowing the terrain in battle was half of the battle. During the start of the war, it had only been saved by the fact that when we split our armies that we fought on a hill and then a forest that prevented us from being crushed by the Franks.

However, True Vision sounded… magical. Otherworldly. Map would undoubtedly be more useful during the war, but True Vision would be more useful in everything else. I didn’t know what to pick. It seem the choices were just getting more difficult-

“Seigfried?” I heard Morrigan from behind the tent flap speak up, breaking my thoughts away from the decision. "Are you awake?" She questioned, a rare note of hesitation in her voice that told me that she almost wished that I was. And if I had been, her voice was so soft I doubt it would have woken me up.

I hesitated to answer -- the slap hurt. All the same, though, I answered her, "I am."

The flap was opened, revealing her. And Jill, who stood behind her, but Jill didn't enter when Morrigan dropped the tent flap, approaching me. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her hands grabbing her skirts and clenching them into tight fists while her golden eyes were narrowed into a glare. I should have pretended to be asleep, I decided. Because she looked like she was about ready to tenderize the other cheek.

"You-" Morrigan began, coming to a stop by my bed, taking a seat by my bed on a stool. "I demand-" she started, and I could hear the emotion in her voice. It wasn't anger, despite my fears. Her eyes narrowed at me, trying to convey a message that struggled to leave her lips. "Turn around- face the tent wall," she instructed, her tone making it clear that it wasn't a request.

Mad or not, I did trust Morrigan so I did as bayed. "You're upset with me," I remarked, and I heard her scoff along with the sound of rustling fabric. I dared to steal a glance over my shoulder to find that Morrigan was still seated on the stool, just with her back facing me. What was even going on here? And what had her so tense?

"I am," Morrigan agreed, not hesitating for a moment to confirm that. "You-" she started before an aggressive and frustrated sigh escaped her before she fell silent. I waited for her to continue for a few seconds, but those seconds turned into a minute. Then two, then three. It had to be a full ten minutes later before Morrigan finally made to speak, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between us. Something that I didn't dare do. "My mother. She isn't my true mother," she told me, making me sputter at the unexpected confession.

That… wasn't as much of a shock, though. The Wise Woman was old -- very old. I could have believed her to be Morrigan's grandmother far easier than I could believe her to be her mother.

"I don't come from your land. I come from an island called Ireland, to the east of Denmark," Morrigan confessed, starting a tale that I didn't expect to ever hear. "My mother -- my true mother -- raised me in seclusion as we followed the old ways, away from the Christians. But I… I was a young girl. A young and foolish girl. I watched villages from the outskirts, never understanding why I couldn't walk among them. My mother forbade it, but t'was not reason enough for me." Morrigan's voice was heavy with emotion, her body tense like she was about to jump up and run before she finished the story.

It was for that reason, I said nothing in response. "I decided to brave the village. Simply to see what it was like. At first, it seemed wondrous, but appearances are often deceiving, I soon learned. My eyes marked me as something other. Something dangerous. No sooner than I entered the village, I found myself chased out of it, running back home to my mother. T'was such a foolish thing to do. For I simply led the mob nipping at my heels to where we laid our heads to rest." A small sigh escaped Morrigan, this one sounding exhausted.

"They didn't catch me that day," She continued. "In my ignorance, I chose to never tell my mother what transpired. I thought it to be a grand secret and I feared her anger for disobedience. Because of my fear, that winter… it was a poor year. The harvest was poor, a sickness spread through the livestock, and a pack of wolves plagued the village. T'was our fault, the villagers concluded. Retribution for chasing me out of the village. T'was retribution of their own, they desired." Morrigan paused, waiting for me to say something.

I said nothing because I knew that if I did, Morrigan wouldn't complete her tale. "My mother awoke me when the mob arrived, swearing vengeance for a deed we did not commit. Could not. I for my lack of ability and my mother for her ignorance of the event. My mother… she made a prayer. As well as a sacrifice. She took a knife to her own breast, carved out her heart… and with her final breath, made a prayer to her mother. Flemeth -- the one you know as the Wise Woman."

My blood ran cold at that. She offered her heart not to the gods, but to Flemeth. That was… telling.

"I escaped the hut and fled into the forest and it was there I was greeted by a raven. It bade me to follow it, and I did. T'was not a matter of faith. Not really. I held no true belief in the gods then, only echoed my mother's lessons. The raven took me across a narrow sea to Francia. Then through Saxony, until I finally arrived at that hut. Flemeth was there and she welcomed me as if she expected me." Morrigan's voice grew grim. "She took me in, raising me as one of her daughters as she did with my mother before me. I arrived barely a season before you did."

I felt like she was skipping over a great deal. Crossing a sea? Traveling through Francia, Saxony, then Denmark with nothing but a bird as guidance? That… sounded like a harrowing journey for a young girl. And from the sound of it, she found little warmth when she arrived.

"Why… are you telling me this, Morrigan?" I asked her, breaking my silence, compelled to ask the question.

Morrigan let out a wet sounding scoff, still refusing to look in my direction with her back facing to me. To avoid appearing vulnerable, I realized. "T'is because you remind me of my mother. My true mother. For we could have gotten away. We could have fled together. It was my mistake that brought the village down upon us, but it was her decision that led to her death. She didn't think to run. Her first instinct was to sacrifice herself to beg for Flemeth's help." She paused, an edge entering her voice, "For all your ability, you nearly died. You nearly died for men who do not matter. You nearly threw it all away -- your vengeance, your family, and your life for the sake of people you don't know. Who mean nothing to you. I'm angry with you because you've mistaken courage with foolishness."

I didn't agree with her, but I did see why she came to that conclusion. "Just because I don't know them doesn't mean they don't matter, Morrigan."

"Untrue," Morrigan retorted, still not looking at me. "It makes them worthless. Their only potential worth is their loyalty. Few people in the world, for as long as mankind has walked Midgard, have ever truly mattered. Those men you nearly died for should have offered their lives for the privilege of protecting you. Because you matter. To m- the gods." Her perception was completely skewed, I realized.

Morrigan didn't care about people outside of a select few. And based on how she nearly misspoke, I was one of those few. But I had underestimated how blatant that disregard was -- in her mind, those three hundred men that I fought with existed only to serve as a shield to protect me. That I should have abandoned them the moment it was convenient because they had no value or reason to exist beyond to serve me.

"I won't promise that it won't happen again, Morrigan. Because it probably will. But I will always come back. That, I can promise you," I offered her, knowing even that wasn't a promise that I should be making.

Morrigan let out a bitter chuckle, "The gods favoring you is no excuse to be a lackwit." She genuinely couldn't understand it, I saw.

"Then I suppose I'll need you to do my thinking for me," I told her. I wouldn't ever bend to Morrigan's beliefs, but I knew that she'd challenge me on mine. And beliefs were worthless without being tested. If I couldn't provide an answer to her words, then it meant I was acting foolish.

There was a small lapse in silence between us, Morrigan offering no response or reaction. This time, it was I who broke it. "Your- Flemeth," I voiced the name for the Wise Woman. "Is she dead?" I asked her and I was unsurprised when Morrigan slowly shook her head.

"She simply vanished one day," Morrigan admitted. "One day, she was there in the hut and when I returned, she was gone. I know not where she went or her intentions. I waited for some time, thinking she would return, but she never did. After a week, I decided to approach you to repay what I was owed." She voiced, her words not matching her tone. Not in the slightest.

How much of Morrigan approaching me because of what I could offer her… was really her not wanting to be alone?

And what went unsaid was heard by me. Flemeth was still out there.

"You require rest, and I shall allow you to have it," Morrigan spoke, standing up abruptly, still not looking at me as she headed to the tent flap. "I will change your bandage when you wake-"

"Morrigan," I interjected, just as she was about to leave. "Thank you. For your concern."

She paused, glancing over her shoulder at me and I saw why she refused to face me. Morrigan's expressions ranged from a scowl to a haughty smirk. Now, however, she wore an expression of surprise and embarrassment. "I- I am merely securing my investment in you," Morrigan spat the words without any real heat. "It would inconvenience me if you get yourself killed!" With a huff, she stormed out of my tent and despite her words, I found myself chuckling.

Laying back, I closed my eyes and as I did, I knew exactly which boon from the gods to take.

True Sight.