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Performance Anxiety

  Pallad continues to stare into Judine’s eyes. Odd, he never used to do that before. And he also never argued who did the killing before. She’s not to question the reason behind it, lest that give up information to some spy pretending to be Pallad.

  It’s a war damnit, and she’s a strategic mastermind. She won’t lose to someone poorly masquerading as Pallad, but if it was really Pallad, she’s sure this’ll tear him up on the inside. Twist the knife in the wound so to speak.

  But she can’t risk this entire war on the smallest of errors. Even if it means she has to sacrifice a friend’s health for it. A close friend, someone she trusts. The smallest differences have to be picked apart to find the larger holes in the story someone else has weaved.

  Someone could easily just pretend to be Pallad to act like someone she knows. Someone they know she knows. Someone, somewhere, out there, had to be after her. She’s an important strategic point to reach her armies.

  She sees the metaphorical game of chess, and someone painted their queen white to trick her into falling for the simplest backrank checkmate. But she can easily call back her rook, or “defend” the queen with a connected pawn structure.

  But she knows better. She knows to avoid a backrank checkmate is to allow the king a place to escape. And the best way to allow escape is to close off Pallad, at the risk he’s someone else.

  He continues yelling about the pains of war, so unlike him. He’s known to be someone the kingdom always held in high regards as a paladin to send off to battle at the first sign of true conflict. Not as a pawn to throw away, but as a knight to destroy the entire structure of the opponent.

  He’s always been the first warrior to be drafted had the need arised, but now he’s yelling about how bad war is? It just didn’t make sense. The very man she had always been told was practically free from the chains of law because of how useful he is, refuses to follow orders?

  It’s a dead giveaway that it’s either a false Pallad, or something happened to him. Both equally likely, and both equally deadly to the mission. She had only needed to make this mission a victory for the side she’s on. No matter the losses. The tower didn’t say this, but it never manipulated the system directly.

  Always had someone tell them the quest or hid clues throughout the world to make it obvious yet still semi-hidden. Could this be a hint as well? Ah, it’ll be fine. She knows that at least. Especially if she keeps the information she gives Pallad at a minimum.

  The debate is also fun. Another view she’s unused to having been surrounded by yes men or the people who profit off the deaths for years and hours of training in law. But she also knows a fact regarding this war that nobody else is aware of. Or at least clearly aware of.

  Nobody is to profit from this war, the losses are to be astronomical. She can’t afford for Pallad to fight in it, for the mages are all to perish by the blade of one person on the other side. The intelligence agency she had in the Kingdom apparently exists in this floor.

  This floor must be the world they were a part of beforehand, but rather just a copy of it. A copy made of cruelty. A copy made of pain, and suffering, to teach these six heroes a lesson. She’s sure Sornid is learning humility and sorrow, Clara learning to let go, especially after holding on too tightly.

  Pallad must then be learning… Ah, that’s why the sudden shift. The two are stuck in a time loop, aren’t they?

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  “You fought in the battle we’re headed to. Didn’t you?”

  Pallad takes a step back.

  “I see. Then I see your points.” Judine closes her binder, and simply walks towards the entryway of the carriage. She opens the door and signals for Pallad to join her, before she jumps out.

  The wind against her face is invigorating, and the yells of the noblemen in similar positions to her asking what she’s doing makes her feel a jolt of energy. The freedom in the area. The freedom of the air flowing around.

  And then a grunt with a loud thud as Pallad followed suit. Pallad had a harder landing then she did, which she did with grace, but Pallad was still okay. The noblemen tried to stop the carriage, but it was pointless. She told all the carriage drivers she was going to be jumping out early anyways, so don’t stop.

  And they better listen, she paid them well. As the carriages wind up leaving the two in the dust, Pallad swipes the dust on his not so nice monk uniform. Is that even a uniform?

  “Why’d you have us do that?”

  “And now I know you’re the real Pallad.” Judine laughs as she looks at the carriage. “So, you say we should stop the battle, hm?”

  “Yes! I’ve been trying to say that to you the whole ride, and you’re only now listening to me?”

  “Yeah, I get how annoying that must be.” Judine sits down on a nearby boulder, looking down at Pallad. “But, the battle starts tomorrow. We can easily make it in time to stop the battle in the first place, especially since I bet you know the inciting incident better than I do.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, don’t act like I couldn’t tell you’re in a time loop. Maybe it’s the first loop, maybe it’s not. Maybe you were on the enemy side the first time, maybe you were on our side the first time, but what does it matter?”

  Pallad makes a shocked step back once more, the sweat forming on his face.

  “Ah, it’s not like you were cursed to never let the secret spill, and if you were, you won’t die.” Judine stands and slides down the boulder. “Not on my watch.”

  “So? Let’s go big guy.” She lightly taps Pallads chest with her fist. Clearly this floor was to teach her empathy, or at least willingness to hear people out. Openness one could say.

  And it’s also clear what this floor is to teach Pallad. That battle is actually not good, who’s hurt on either side of a battle, even a duel, no matter who wins. It’s interesting. But the two are walking now, to prevent violence with violence.

  The walk is normal, and less of a walk, the both sprinting onwards to catch up. Their stats make it easy to do this as though a light jog, despite the items surrounding the beat up road moving near instantly to behind them, as though they aren’t the ones moving but rather they gave up their very own relativity to the earth.

  The ground moved beneath them while the two soared through the air, the wind messing up Judine’s hair in such a comforting way. The wind passed around the two, Pallad looking onwards with just a small light in his eyes.

  An unknown light, mayhaps hope, maybe Determination. Only he could know, and Judine knew for a fact that it wasn’t going anywhere soon. The gray skies did nothing to misrepresent the two, only making them clearer to see.

  The two shine greatly in contrast to the ground and background, the two almost glowing in heroics, as the two continue to jump across the rocks, watching the road perfectly, passing the carriages they had jumped out of not even a few minutes prior.

  The orange glow of the campsite they were approaching was nice, a light goal for their working towards peace. The tower won’t control the either of them, the hope they both felt pumping their blood nicely.

  That was until the orange glow seemed to approach Judine at first thought. And at second thought her head was gone, burnt to nothing but black. And she fell to the ground, the grass crinkling.

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