It is often easier to defend your principles than to live up to them.

An honest saying.

Whoever first thought of that wise phrase has seen through the innumerable facades all "virtuous" members of a group put up. Even those who do not aim to be noble would find it difficult to dispute such a statement. After all, when one's ideals are examined and questioned by another, who wouldn't feel the infuriating sting of attack, of rejection, of...invalidity? Who wouldn't feel the need to protect oneself? For at that moment, that ideal becomes the embodiment of the person, and that sting of scrutiny must be fought off immediately! At that moment, that ideal is near-equivalent to one's life, and to preserve one's life one must fight unyieldingly and courageously! So, they clench their fists, they grit their teeth, they open their eyes wide and proclaim the legitimacy of their "truth", no matter how ridiculous it is upon further thought.

You must be wrong, you contend, for there are hundreds of people every day who get up from their comfortable homes and take to the cold streets, fighting for their principles. Is this not living up to them? No! Let me carefully explain. A line must first be drawn between "defending" and "fighting"; defense only occurs upon incursion, but here, a fight implies that one is initiating - not defending against - an attack. Defending against uninvited scrutiny is much simpler, and some may even say much more inciting, than leaving one's comfortable home and taking to the cold streets to fight for ideals. In this case, you are correct: fighting is difficult. 

However, fighting is not living! A fight does not appear every single day of one's life, and we are not required to actively take up arms every waking moment. But, steadfastly digging one's aching, battered fingers into a conviction and stubbornly holding onto it, day after day after day after day, is a battle that must be carried out each second; it requires much more effort than simply defending - or even fighting for - some belief. When one is in their comfortable home, devoid of any pressing issues that require them to "prove" their thoughts, and yet they are still, perhaps unconsciously, just as willing to brave any adversary - that is what I would call living up to held principles. I would say such determination, when truly righteous, is rather rare.

Of course, I am not a righteous man, and I most definitely don't claim to be one. While "true" virtue is still done for self-servitude in the form of self-satisfaction, my actions are obviously and directly for my own gain; I don't even attempt to hide it. Therefore, I have never had any qualms with living up to my principles. I am in full agreement with them and I care not for showing off, for I know that valuing my survival over all should not logically lead me to a dead-end path.

I have no qualms with living up to my convictions and staying a nameless, inactive bystander, so why am I now running towards a burning village? When I saw the dark cloud of ash and smoke clawing towards the orange sky, when I heard the distant screams and shouts and the sound of metal hitting metal - why did I not turn and take off, back to city I had visited?

The familiar cries assaulted my ears as I neared, clouds of dust and soot forcing me to narrow my eyes as I reached the edge of the village. A burst of malicious laughter pierced through the noise, easily ignored as I pressed my back against the cool stone hut behind me. The small item in my pocket uncomfortably pressed against the wall, gently digging into my thigh.

Hebe, Hebe, Hebe...where's Hebe?

My heart unceasingly beat against my chest, my fingertips seemingly burning as hot blood ran through them. Did she run? There were naturally some survivors after Ikthar raids, and the ones who run first are usually the least likely to die. It would be smartest to run, but...the shitty boy with broken legs was still recovering, and Hebe was a fool!

I coughed, my breath unsteadily slipping through my lips. My feet flew forward, barely stopping to let me peek around the corner. Empty. I darted to the nearest building, pausing as another wave of howls and shrieks and soft crunches accosted the area. I paid no mind to the bloody body at my feet, only glancing down to rapidly wrestle the dagger out of its stiff hand. If I was found now, after so long...would the captain let me live? No, that wasn't quite right; at this point, the better question was whether Ryder would let me live.

A metallic taste covered my throat as I took a few gulps of hot air, hardly controlling my breathing while I carefully wove through ruined structures. Sorong wasn't very large; it wouldn't take too long to reach the physician's home. Stupid, stupid woman! If she didn't run, I-!

A movement in the corner of my eye had me dropping to the ground - a resounding clang hit the stone wall just above me. My hands tightened around the dagger as I suppressed a wince, glaring at my attacker. Then, I froze. They mirrored my actions, the sword stilling.

"You're alive?"

"Niles?"

His dirt-covered brows lowered, bewilderment overwhelming his features. His eyes narrowed. Neither of us reacted to the nearby shouts.

"We thought you died in the attack. If you were alive, why are you here?"

"Look, I don't have time to explain right now," my hands noticeably shook as I held them out, the dagger still clenched, "Niles, can you help me out? Just bring me to a house not too far from here. I don't want to be killed by one of ours on the way there."

"'Ours'?" He scoffed, "You-,"

"Please." The word was short, but it nearly cracked midway, perhaps from its neglect.

Loud crackles of burning wood echoed in the eons of time that seemed to pass until finally - his features fluctuated, turning into something I wasn't quite able to read. He eventually nodded, sweat mixed with grime dripping down his cheek and reflecting the red blaze in the distance.

Our pace was swift as we walked side by side, neither showing their back to the other. To my relief, no bandits and no villagers accosted us, both engrossed in their battles and escapes as they ran around us.

My relief was short-lived.

The door was off its hinges, shattered pieces strewn across the entranceway and leading into the darkness inside. This was expected. What wasn't expected, however, was the loud guffaws ricocheting from inside the house.

A clear voice rang out towards us as I distractedly shoved Niles to the side, pushing past the semi-circular crowd of men in the small room.

"Hey, watch who you're touch-!"

I didn't turn to look at the gruff speaker, his words cutting off as whispers floated up to the low roof. The smell of iron was especially conspicuous, overpowering the stifling smoke and the weak, lingering scent of herbs.

A tall blonde man crouched on the ground, his blue eyes carefully staring ahead. Before him was a woman. She was faced away from me, her back straight, her knees bent perfectly beneath her. Her brown hair was unkempt, although to me it seemed just as beautiful as it always was.

Hebe.

I caught the ragged exhale quickly, clamping my mouth shut with a cold hand. Unfortunately, part of it leaked through my palm, the stifled noise catching Ryder's attention. His eyes snapped up, crinkling in thought.

My teeth ground together as my heart froze over, skipping a beat to shake off the ice. Ryder was here. He was here, and he saw me.

He shot me a smile. I suppressed my shudder.

The blonde smoothly stood up, his arms widening in welcome.

"Look who it is! We haven't seen you in a long time. We even thought you were dead! Were you here all these months?"

Hebe was still alive. If she was still alive, why was the smell of blood so thick? 

I didn't look at the bed in the corner. 

"Yes," I finally responded. My gaze stirred, following Ryder's movements as I met his eyes. And then, I realized: I had been watching Hebe - and Ryder had been watching me. What had he seen?

My intestines seemed to twist, churning together as the blonde casually approached. One strong step, then another, and a third. He placed a hand on my shoulder. The harsh sound silenced the building murmurs around us, torrid air lethargically creeping through the room. 

His smile widened as he trilled his fingers against my back. 

"You know, we've all been together for a very long time," he paused emphatically, a single brow forming a faux frown, "And you've been loyal for just as long. Sorong has been surrounded by that guy's troops - what was his name?" 

"One-eyed Dutch, captain!" Someone added from the crowd. 

"Right, one-eyed Dutch," Ryder evenly continued, "He's been lurking around here since you've disappeared, and he only left about a month ago. Hm, that's not quite right. He had to leave, didn't he?" 

Had to leave? Why did he have to leave? It didn't take long for a thought to cross my mind, my eyes rebelliously widening. Ryder clapped my shoulder, seemingly applauding my realization. Was I so easy to read? 

"As they say, make a noise in the east and then strike the west," A chuckle proudly left his grinning lips.

My mouth opened, eventually forcing a taught montone. "I thought Sorong wasn't important to the boss?"

Ryder hummed, glancing down at the woman on the ground. She was still sitting motionlessly, not even making an attempt at escape. She didn't even speak.  

"That was before." I moved slightly at the disrupting answer, Ryder's blue eyes boring into mine. "We're going all-in now, yeah?" He didn't wait for me to think this time, his arm moving to drape over my neck and shoulders as he leaned closer. He suddenly turned, nodding at Hebe. "This woman seems to be the physician of this little shithole, but even I'm surprised at how seriously she takes her job. She tried to fight us to protect some broken kid! Can you imagine?" 

Snickers and roars filled the stone hut. 

I couldn't handle his peer, the corner of my mouth shakily rising up. "No...no, I can't imagine that. That seems...foolish."

"I agree! Unbelievable! So we killed the kid in front of her eyes, just to make sure she remembers not to be so thoughtless in the next life." 

I shut my eyes, disregarding the howling chortles. I realized in the next second that he had probably felt my shoulders droop. 

My eyes flickered open as a hand abruptly thumped my chest. "We're going all-in, and we'll need all the loyal soldiers we can get. And you're not a traitor. You're loyal, aren't you?"

My gaze haltingly shifted, slowly crawling across the wrecked stone floor as it reached the woman's rumpled skirt. It climbed up, up, up, past her thin waist, grabbing the tendrils of her soft hair and stilling at the crown of her head. Icy pinpricks spread through me, seemingly numbing my legs, my stomach, my arms, and the fingers gently caressing the ring in my pocket. I had gone to a different city for this ring. 

The ice finally reached my mind, a detached calm settling over me. 

"Hey," the same claw-like hand hit my chest again, accompanied by sharp words. "You're loyal, aren't you? You don't know this woman...am I right?" 

Hebe was going to die here, and there was nothing I could do. 

Scenes from the past year danced across my vision. A drop of sweat trickled down my temple; I licked my cracked lips before low, hoarse words dragged through my throat.

"You're right." 

"What's that?" I nearly didn't register that he had turned his ear towards me. 

Her long hair, her coarse hands, her little nose, her curved brows, her smiling lips, her dazzling eyes...wave after wave after wave of warm memories flooded my mind.

"You're right." 

Her figure engraved itself in my mind, and the world seemed to stop - but not nearly for long enough. 

"Of course I am." 

A keen screech of metal, a sickening squelch. It was over. Hebe soundlessly buckled forward, unstoppable crimson spreading down from her neck. It was over. 

"Oh, I forgot to ask her...what a shame. Next time, I suppose! We're done here. Let's finish up with this village and then get back to the boss!"

Cheers of agreement surrounded Ryder as he shoved past me, the other men faithfully following his footsteps. 

I stood still, unable to look away from her. I didn't even get to hear her one last time. What was she thinking? What was she thinking when I...?

It wasn't long until someone tapped my shoulder, Niles giving his best version of kindness as he walked to stand at my side. 

"You made the correct choice." 

I made the correct choice. I was alive. I survived again.

Was it worth it?

I wasn't sure what Niles saw in my face at that moment.