CHAPTER 1: SEVERANCE

  The snow on the Aethel Peaks didn't melt; it just became sharper, turning into crystalline needles that sought the gaps in my wool coat. I didn't argue when Lilo handed me the parchment. I didn't shout when Sammy refused to look me in the eye, choosing instead to study the grip of his shield as if he’d never seen leather before. I just took the 'Severance Waiver' and read the clauses I had written myself three years ago.

  "We need a heavy-hitter for the Deep-Vail raid, Gray," Lilo said.

  He wasn't looking at me. He was busy polishing the sun-sigil on his breastplate with a bit of enchanted silk that had cost us four gold in the last village. Four gold that I’d had to scrape together by haggling with a blind herbalist for six hours while they drank ale at the tavern.

  "An accountant is a luxury we can't afford in the end-game," Lilo continued. "You understand. It’s just... business."

  "I understand business better than you think, Lilo," I said.

  My voice didn't shake. I didn't let my hands tremble. I just felt the phantom weight of every night I’d spent awake while they slept. For three years, I had managed their mana-rations. I had negotiated their inn stays. I had calculated their survival margins down to the last copper piece so they could focus on being "Legends." I had been the support pillar that allowed them to stand tall, and now, at the finish line, I was a rounding error to be discarded.

  "Are you mad?" Ami asked.

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  She sounded like she wanted me to be. If I blew up, it would make her feel less guilty. I didn't give her the satisfaction.

  "I don't have time for anger, Ami," I replied. "Anger has a poor rate of return."

  I signed the waiver. I used the last of my ink, the nib of my quill scratching harshly against the parchment.

  "Lilo, you never did appreciate the cost of things," I said, handing the paper back.

  I didn't tell them that they were currently three weeks away from their next payout. I didn't tell them that the Mage they’d hired was notorious for a 40% mana-wastage rate. I didn't tell them that without me, they would be bankrupt before they reached the second floor of the Deep-Vail.

  I didn't feel the sting of the cold anymore. I didn't feel the bite of the wind. I just felt the first stone being laid for a new foundation. They thought they were leaving behind an accountant. They didn't realize they were leaving behind the man who had kept the ceiling from collapsing on their heads for a thousand days.

  I turned and began the long trek down the mountain. I didn't look back. I knew exactly where they were going, and I knew exactly how much it would cost them to survive without me.

  The descent was brutal. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. I’d spent that entire descent wondering if I'd ever mattered to them at all. The answer, as the wind howled through my thin coat, was clearly no. I was a tool.

  By the time I reached the tree line, I saw a jagged opening in the basalt cliffside. Not a cave. A ruin.

  I crawled inside, my fingers scraping against stone that hummed with a faint, stagnant energy. It was a dungeon. Or it used to be.

  I didn't feel fear as I reached the central chamber. I didn't feel the terror of the dark. I just felt the first stirrings of an acquisition. The Core sat in the center of the room, a cracked violet crystal. It was dim. It was starving. It was alone.

  "You're underperforming," I whispered.

  The Core pulsed weakly. It reminded me of myself on that mountain—starving, abandoned, and deemed "underperforming" by people who never calculated the cost of keeping them alive. We were the same. Discarded assets waiting for someone to see our value.

  "I didn't come here to destroy you," I said, placing my hand on the stone. "I came here to restructure you. You have assets. You have location. You just need management."

  I sat on the floor, open my leather ledger to the first blank page, and write three names at the top of the 'Accounts Receivable' column.

  Lilo. Ami. Sammy.

  I didn't make the world this way. Lilo had made it this way when he handed me that parchment. I didn't need to be a hero. I needed to be the man who owned the snow.