Though they didn’t believe him at first and only preteo after he bought everyone a round, after a few guys went out to check the graveyard and firmed that the mist was finally gone, a real celebration broke out. There had been a few tentative celebrations st time when the unexpined fireball had burned away whatever it was that hauhe graveyard for a few weeks, but sino one had cimed credit, it had never been more than hope.

  This news, though, spread like wildfire. Simon had just been hoping thten the night of the few regurs he reized in the on room, but as word spread, the pce filled up to standing room only, and he was forced to tell the stain and again.

  People were feeding him free drinks for hours, and by the time he’d drunk enough to take some liberties with the truth, adding Bckheart’s wraith to the story, along with a part where he thrust his sword into its obsidia whey watch’s Marshall showed up.

  For a moment Simon thought that he was in trouble, but the man instantly joined in the celebrations, gratuting Simon for lifting the curse, and telling him, “The King himself will probably want to hear the story himself tomorrow, when news gets around, so I hope you’re ready to be drowned in gold!”

  Simon toasted to that, but truthfully, he didn’t need any more riches than he already had, and if he was offered a fortune he’d gdly give it a way to a worthy cause. It wasn’t like he was going to start carting a backpack full of gold around with him. Truthfully the backpack would be the most important part of that arra, and he’d only just purchased one he liked.

  He expected the one he had to st the rest of his life. That thought was enough to make him smirk as he listeo another man tell him about all the heroes who had died in the night trying to cim the reward. It was morbid humor and hardly a joke he could share, but his lives didn’t tend to be that long these days, especially not when he was ing up on the dragon level again.

  Simon doubted he’d survive that one, but he hoped that this time, he could at least get a better y of the nd. He didn’t brood on that too much, though, or the premature loss of the artifact he’d destroyed. What really mattered was that he’d defeated this level ly, and he knew how to do it agaiy easily in case it reset on him.

  Simon ehe rest of his drunken evening, though not so much that he let one of the beautiful barmaids join him in his room and gratute him personally. Maybe if the caravan guard or one of the other dies had hit on him, he would have gone for it, but a barmaid hit a bit too close to home.

  He did spare himself a lesser word of cure to remove the alcohol from his system. Only when he sobered up that he realized that this was one of the first times anyone had treated him like a real hero. Various vilgers had thanked him for his help of course, but this was the very first time he’d sin a monster and there had been a true outp of gratitude. It robably the best quest reward he could have asked for.

  His minor miracle was enough to spare him a hangover in the m a him get an early start on the day. Simon didn’t have mu the way of clothes in this life. Nice was out of the question. But, he brushed up his armor as best he could and paid a copper or two for a bath and a shave, and by the time his face was smooth and he felt , a herald was sent to collect him.

  Darndelle wasn’t as nice as Leipzin, which was the rge city he was most familiar with to the north. That said, it looked a lot nicer from the back of a gilded and upholstered carriage, and Simon was happy for the attention as a growing parade made its way to the castle.

  There, he was met by a number of funaries. The priests firmed he’d been to the temple on more than one occasion, the archivist firmed that he was the man to find the grave’s locatioher day, and a couple quiet men with white beards that he was fairly certain were some kind of court wizard gred at him hard enough that he was fairly sure they could see whatever darkness was in his soul.

  They said nothing, though, and after his identity was firmed, and he was made to swear on a holy symbol that he wasn’t a warlock, he was escorted into court. There, he found dozens of nobles and, of course, the King and Queen.

  Simon didn’t quite know what the protocol for this sort of thing, but as they read of his name as “Sir Simon of the Northern Lands,” he stepped forward and k deeply. Most problems like this could be solved with a quick dispy of humility in his experience.

  “Rise,” the King anded before following up with, “He does speak uage, doesn’t he?”

  “I do, Your Majesty,” Simon smiled as he stepped forward.

  The Kiured, and a different herald stepped forward to read another procmation. Today was decred a holiday, and all subjects were to thank the gods for their deliverance.

  Simon stood there stiffly, noting the fine print that no reward would be given until the mist had been gone for a year and a day, but that didn’t bother him. He’d be gone long before that.

  Afterward, a ba was held in his honor. He was given a seat at the high table o the King’s own heir, and he was asked tal everyoh the story of his victory. Simon had only had a single gss of watered wine by that point, so he stuck to a version that was mostly the truth.

  He told everyohat after finding the true name of the Bckhearted one, which he dared not repeat, he went to the graveyard and summohe creature before destroying it utterly in the light of the setting sun. When he was asked for proof, he offered to draw a sketch of the heart but said that as soon as the wraith was defeated, it crumbled to dust.

  One of the young men asked if he’d used magic to defeat the thing, but Simon merely ughed. He undid his sword belt and passed the man the scabbard as he said, “If I had magic, I assure you I’d be able to afford a nicer sword.”

  Everyone ughed at that, but Simon tinued. “The only magic I possessed was research. There’s a great power in words, especially in learning the names of evil!”

  Everyone agreed with that, though only one of the gray beard from earlier seemed to uand his joke about the power of words. The man chuckled dryly, which moved him right to the top of Simons list of people that he wao get to know better. Unfortunately, by the time the feasting was dohe Kings advisor — Archiman as he arently called — had retreated to his own rooms and made it clear that he didn’t wish to be disturbed.

  So, instead of seeing if someone could finally expiure of magi, Simo more time with the King’s family, and at the end of the evening, he annouhat he was going to renouhe reward in its ey.

  “But Sir Simon,” one man gasped, “A chest of gold is a fortune!”

  “Aye,” Simon agreed. “A heavy fortune, and I travel light. Use it food cause instead. A hospital, or an orphanage. Do something to better the lives of those that dwelt in the shadow of that curse for far too long.”

  There was more drinking and more cheering after that, and when a couple of the dies of the court snuto the room he’d been given for the night, he was far too drunk to think that was a bad idea and far too smart to make himself sober. Thankfully, that night was a blur, and he woke up in the m to ay bed.

  He probably should have been surprised he wasn't assassinated during the night, but really, he was too busy basking in the half-remembered afterglow to bother. It really was the best of both worlds. All of the pleasure and only a little of the guilt to go with it. He wasn't sure he'd ever gotteher of their names, but he hoped they'd had as good a time as he had.

  Simon lingered for another few days, enjoying the towhusiasm and basking in the adution of the on people while he got his gear in order. Once he had everythihought he’d need, including a paper maché masquerade mask that he’d gotten because it looked somewhat like the devil on the upper floors, he made his way into the temple and forced the door open.

  Beyond the door he could hear the sounds of music rather than screaming, which told him, that he wasn’t too te. Simon quickly donned his mask and then moved inside. He didn’t remember exactly how to get where he was going but as soon as he found the servant that stopped him st time, he said, “ you direct me to the wine celr? I’m running a little te for a private party there.”

  “But guests are ihe man said, but he stopped talked as soon as Simon slipped him a couple silver pieces. Then he just nodded and said, “Right this way sir.”

  Simon reached the celr just after Kaylee had opehe door to the side passage that let the men in, and all of them turoward him. He didn’t draw his sword yet. Instead, he looked down at everyone and said, “Why would you ever think that a bloodbath would help your cause?”

  “Who are you?” a couple of the men shouted, but Simon ighem, walking slowly toward the knot of men, trying to figure out who the mage was. He was ready with the words of fire prote on his lips, but he wao wait until the st possible moment.

  When no one cast or attacked, he finally said, “I’m here for your fession. Tell me what’s happening here, and maybe this be ended without bloodshed.”

  Most of the men here didn’t have ons. That made sense because they were all dressed as servants, and they’d stolen ons previously upstairs. As he spoke they produced knives, broke bottles, and picked up pnks. It was clear to him this wasn’t going to end peacefully.