Hirrus Callabryn’s world ended on a beautiful day. It all started with a crisp morning, and a warm and shining sun that burnt off the mist before noon. Birdsong filled the autumn air, and the occasional flash of red wings blended with the red-orange foliage scattered across the cobblestone streets.

It was a perfect day in the hamlet of Yenon.

Or, at least, it was perfect to all appearances Hirrus was allowed to acknowledge.

As a rank-and-file town guard, Hirrus’ decision tree was relatively simple. It was a constant flowchart running in the back of his mind, directing his actions and governing his responses to the world around him. The decision tree was what told him not to intervene in whatever nonsense had adventurers sprinting around through the city like panicked poultry. As odd as their behavior was, he was literally not allowed to ask. The decision tree was what told him that the monster those same adventurers were kiting through town on the north side was outside of his aggro radius. As much as he wanted to help, he was not allowed to join the fight. It was their own problem unless they brought it closer to him.

Despite those unusual elements, Hirrus’ day unfolded just like every other. Just with a mildly surreal undercurrent that his decision tree forced him to ignore.

He walked his patrol route around the Duskgrove, stopping to stand at attention by the main road for thirty minutes after every circuit.

It didn’t matter when, at some point in the early afternoon, the guard who walked the other side of the Duskgrove stopped arriving to relieve him. His decision tree didn’t alter his behavior; he couldn’t stay to ensure the road was watched. Its orders grew harsher when he hesitated, wondering what had become of his counterpart. He wanted to activate his Raise The Alarm ability in response to the discrepancy, but his decision tree assured him that this was not sufficient cause for alarm.

Under its direction, he moved on with his patrol.

It didn’t matter when the smithy on the northeast corner of town - between the Duskgrove and the Old District - was uncharacteristically silent well before closing time. His decision tree didn’t alter his behavior; he couldn’t poke his head in to investigate. Its orders grew harsher when he hesitated, peering inquisitively at the darkened windows. He wanted to seek out the proprietor and confirm they were alright, but without his decision tree’s input, he couldn’t even step off of his route to knock.

Under its direction, he moved on.

And so Hirrus walked his patrol route, stood sentinel where he was supposed to, and kept to his business until an hour before sunset. He stood awkwardly for a moment where he was supposed to be making small talk with the night guard who would replace him - the woman simply didn’t arrive, but his decision tree relieved him of duty and sent him to go home just the same.

Again he considered activating Raise The Alarm in the absence of one of his fellow guards, but again his decision tree insisted that it wasn’t a valid reason.

His walk home was mostly governed by his decision tree. Where he went and what he did was laid out for him. His pathing was left to his own choices, though - it was one of the few things he could control. While his status as a guardsman meant that the townsfolk would yield to him and behave deferentially if he demanded it, Hirrus always went out of his way to be polite. He walked around the crowded places in the streets. He waited patiently in line at the baker for his bread, and at the butcher for his meat, and at the market for his fruits and vegetables.

It was only the smallest of decisions that fell outside his decision tree. But those were the only things he could do as himself. Everything else was strictly under the thumb of the flowchart in the back of his mind, directing what he could do, and excluding everything outside of it.

He was glad, then, that picking up an extra loaf of bread was in his decision tree. An extra cut of ham. Two more apples than he and his wife needed. He was relieved that his decision tree directed him to knock at his neighbor’s door before heading home.

Dahlia answered the door with her usual resigned smile. She had the look of elegance that was all she had left of the noble upbringing she’d left behind. Despite her well-kept long brown hair, and her soft hands, she had a steel in her that had let her turn her exile from her family into a badge of honor. Despite that steel, her pregnancy was far along, and she was having more and more trouble getting around. It had been a month since she’d been able to even entertain the idea of walking to the market, even if she wasn’t running out of what little money her husband had squirreled away before his untimely death.

“Good evening, Hirrus,” she greeted him, as she always did.

“Dahlia,” he said, as he always did, before offering the second satchel of groceries.

“I can’t accept this,” she said, as she always did.

He wanted to say “but you will” because she always did, but he instead said: “you have a need. I have a means. Take them. Not for yourself, but for me. I won’t sleep well at night knowing you’ve gone hungry.”

She hesitated, as she always did, and then took the bag from him with a sigh.

“Thank you,” Hirrus said.

“You thank me,” she said with a scoff. “You do me a kindness and thank me for accepting it.”

He wanted to offer reassurance. To tell her that she was a friend, and that her well-being mattered to him. That the loss of her husband was a loss for the whole community, and that he would not see that man’s love - and child - starve and die right under his nose. But all of that was outside of his decision tree. The conversation instead proceeded as it always did.

“It’s my job,” he said, “to care for the town of Yenon and those within.”

“Yenon is well cared-for with you looking out for it. Thank you for your kindness.” She tossed her head, gesturing with her chin towards Hirrus’ home next door. “Now get on home. Julissa’s waiting.”

Hirrus gave her a nod and a smile.

The conversation was all laid out by his decision tree, and hers, and he was irritated that he couldn’t offer her any further emotional support. All he could do was be happy that his decision tree let him do as much as he did. He shuddered to think what would have happened to her without his intervention.

If it wasn’t in his decision tree, he would have been forced to walk by her house every day, knowing she was struggling.

And then, he would have been forced to walk by the empty house, knowing he could have changed that outcome.

His wife wasn’t waiting for him at the door - she never was - but was instead working on mending a dress. Despite Hirrus’ job as a guard bringing in more than enough money for them to live comfortably, she still worked as a seamstress, insisting that the work was making the lives of those around them better, and thereby refusing to stop. Her still being hard at work meant that he had time to change in accordance with his decision tree, equipping his common clothes and letting his armor switch into his inventory.

For the last task before heading back into Julissa’s workshop, he pulled the simple battleaxe off his belt and hung it over the mantle. The hearth was mostly just glowing coals now, and he would have to rebuild the fire before dinner, but he was in no hurry. Unlike Julissa, he was well-adapted to the cold, and he enjoyed how close she had to cuddle up to him at night when all the heat had been leached out of the bed by the autumn afternoon.

As always, peering into her workshop was like watching the sunrise.

There was a moment where she was biting her tongue in concentration as her fingers made a little bone needle fly back and forth along a split seam, and then she looked up at him.

Her smile turned the autumn evening into a springtime noon.

He wasn’t entirely sure by what stroke of luck her decision tree had caused her to see him as worthy of that smile, but he was grateful to it.

Julissa had a simple sort of beauty. It was hard to put into words. Auburn hair and light eyes. Her skin was pale and smooth, making her look younger than her years. If kindness could be contained in a physical quality, it was the best way Hirrus could think of to describe Julissa. What she was doing spending her time with his battle-scarred and sun-damaged hide, he’d never know.

“Home already?” she asked.

“As fast as I could.”

Their evening proceeded as it always did. They worked together to make dinner. She chopped the vegetables while he started the fire beneath the stove, and then he tended to the food in the pan while she measured and added the spices. And then he got out of her way to let her finish and dish out the food while he set the table. Before joining her, he built up and lit the hearth.

They made small talk, as they always did. Constrained by their decision trees, they couldn’t really address anything. Hirrus thought it was concerning that a number of her usual clients didn’t show up today, as she expected, especially since the ranks of his coworkers had visibly thinned as the day had gone on. He thought there was something about those two facts that he should have been able to combine into something alarming.

And he could see in Julissa’s eyes that she was making the same connection.

But it was outside of their respective decision trees. There was nothing they could do.

Not that it was unpleasant, or even uncomfortable. Hirrus would never regret a fine dinner with the love of his life. Julissa was a lovely woman, and he greatly enjoyed her company. It just felt slightly surreal to be calmly discussing a mystery neither of them were able to even acknowledge verbally.

Despite the oddness of the day, they finished with dinner, and there was only a moment of sitting quietly together before gathering the dishes to clean up. Hirrus was hoping that he could look forward to an ordinary evening undisturbed by further oddities. A quiet night in together was literal heaven to Hirrus.

And as he carried the dishes back to the wash basin, he started to look forward to it.

That moment was when the world changed.

The front door splintered and broke open.

It clapped flat to the floor. Mere seconds before the beast rushed in at them.