Maks walked in front of a row of red brick houses on the river bank near the heart of Alte. He approached a house that had no lights flickering behind the curtains, odd considering this was known as the street that never sleeps. He went up the stairs, treading lightly in the twilight. Maks knew Alter disapproved of what he did not for the action but for the motivation behind it. He did not give a damn what others thought. Maks was smart. He's got a good head and would've made an excellent politician. But when Arwen becomes involved Maks loses himself. It's his flaw. His fatal flaw. To Maks, that man could do no wrong, his words, infaillible. And that man told him to end this whole affair.

Maks reached the top. There was no furniture on the first floor and the same held true for the second. He entered the last room. Louis Mack stood on a chair, a noose dangling before him. He flinched when Maks entered but did not look back.

He said, "We lost."

"Do it, or it will be done for you," Maks replied, raising his gun.

"I admit we are wicked people who sinned too much and harmed too many to begin to even repent for. We are evil."

Mack lifted the noose to his head. The chair trembled. "And yet, the ASSR is no better than us. I will never understand why you do what you do. I can only take comfort that your end will be like this."

He slipped off the chair.

Maks unlatched the window's wooden shutters. The city sounds fluttered inside. He dragged the chair in front of the dying man and laid his arms on the backrest. Maks began to speak.

"I do not know what hardships you bore that created the person you've become. Even so, we are not at all alike. I am an orphan of war. My parents hid me in our cellar and took up muskets to defend our border town from the Apernikan Empire's assault. I stayed there till the din of battle dwindled. I ventured outside. The crumbling remains were all that was left of the buildings. Smoke from dying embers drifted away into the red sky. I wandered the streets, stumbling past pits crammed with burnt corpses, flies buzzing above the rats nibbling at rotting fingers."

He stared into the other's eyes, his veins bursting, submerging pupils in blood. Maks' voice softened.

"I should have died there. A few dozen children and the elderly huddled in the church were the remnants of our town. We heard planes and rejoiced that death came to reunite us with loved ones. But it was the Arsenian army led by Arwen Mordecai come to launch an offensive on the Apernikans. It was he who gave we the children the choice to lead a normal life or join him in his crusade to protect the people. I chose him."

Maks shot the rope and the hanging man toppled to the floor.

"Why-!"

Maks gripped the man's chin and spoke through gritted teeth, "He saved a wretch like me. That is why I will stain myself in blood so he no longer has to."

His bullet tore the Mack apart. The body slumped to its knees.

Maks Meier said, head sunk in the rising gloom, half-shadow, half-man, "He is My Lord."