Epilogue: Patron

Dissatisfied groans and whispers filled the tavern as many finely dressed patrons stood, brushed themselves off, and left. Some remained, however, more than Fortune expected; a few even shook his hand and congratulated him once he was offstage, though they laughed more than he would like at the big revelations he dropped.

"A fine work of vulnerability," one orcish gentleman said, "though, perhaps, heavy on the fantasy."

Fortune just grit his teeth and smiled, raising his reclaimed mug. "Wild world."

All in all, it was a fruitful event for the tavern, which meant it was fruitful for the town. He and Imber had sketched out a ten percent host cut, which Fortune raised to ninety-five percent.

"This is for your hard work," Imber protested, pushing back the mountain of gold. "I can't take it all."

"You're not takin' it all," Fortune countered, pretending to count. "I've still got, what, two hundred some? Carmen'd get mad if I gave it all away. We'll need food 'n' shit."

Imber shook his head, then gave a defeated laugh. "Well, tell her she can break as many chairs as she wants."

The evening was creeping along, the sky's late afternoon blue ready to give way to burnt orange, and the crowd was just as rowdy as he liked. Still, he sat at the bar, swishing his ale. "Who was that hooded fella? The two thousand gold one?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Imber shrugged, lowering his voice under the establishment's roar. "Strange painting to fixate on."

"It's a good'n."

"It is. They all are."

Fortune took a deep breath. "Think she's someone important, somewhere?"

"Given who you said her mother is? Without a doubt." At his dour look, Imber chucked him under the chin. "Don't give it too much thought. You won't be seeing it anymore."

With a small chuckle, Fortune glanced at Carmen, holding his interpretation of Variant. Then at Shawn, holding Fancy Footwork. Then Mother June with Lucky, Ian with Invisibility, Daryl with Sneak Attack—and Human, propped against the bar next to him. "Seems like it's the only one I won't be seeing."

Imber's smile was teasing. "Don't want any of 'em too far from home. That goes for you, too." His mirth didn't fade, but it changed somehow. "Speaking of which, what's next?"

"Can't one bask in their achievements?" Fortune said ostentatiously. Imber gave him a look, and he folded. He'd had a thousand ideas, been thinking about getting as far as possible for months, but—

"I dunno." He let a dopey smile slide onto his face, and shrugged.

Imber raised his eyebrows. "No problem there. Take it a day at a time."

Fortune nodded.

Then the bartender was off into his bustling crowd, firmly rooted in a life he'd built for himself and his loves in exactly that way.

Habitually clicking his tongue, Fortune stood. He was a little sore from Shimmy's saddle—which he thought he hid pretty well during the show—so he waddled to the nearest table, with two familiar heads sat at it.

"He don't have you workin'?" Fortune said before he even hit the chair.

"Uh," Keelo began, "I'm sort of in and out now."

"Orchard lookin' good?"

They grinned, a wild look they didn't often wear. "It looks… fantastic," they said, gesturing emphatically. "I'm hoping to start bottling soon."

Fortune nodded, satisfied, then turned his head. "Miss Kelkie not make it?"

Euphor lowered his head, face and hair tinging red. "She doesn't like when you call her that."

"That's a privilege of the present." He took another sip.

Euphor shrugged. "I'll just tell her you cried at her performance."

"Oh—hey, now." Fortune grew a wild grin of his own. "Let's not get into threats."

"I enjoyed your performance, too," Keelo teased, "and the significant artistic liberties you took in the story."

"Naw, come on! That was fresh from the primary source."

"There were more stairs down to Valdin's workshop, not an elevator."

Fortune scoffed. "That don't—"

Keelo counted on their fingers. "They patched us up in the infirmary before Nivae sounded the alarm—Promise pulled out the things you two had stolen, and they saw through the crystal in the corner."

"You stole, too," he muttered.

"That thing from the portal fell on you, not me," Euphor chimed in.

Fortune shrugged. "That's not how it felt to me."

"And we did go in the portal." After the brief silence, Keelo winced. "I get why you didn't share that."

With a soft smile, Fortune said, "More about facing—y'know, the emotions of it all."

"Sounds like lying," Euphor murmured.

"It's true," he laughed. "Not everything needs to be shared in full detail. I got the big stuff out. Besides, sometimes stories need to be simpler for the message to get across."

Keelo thought about it, then nodded their assent. "That makes sense."

Euphor smiled. "Sure."

They studied their drinks, lost in thought, and Fortune took a moment to study them. They'd graciously modeled for a few of his paintings—couldn't all be Ian. They'd taken care of him more times than he could count, even though they were feeling the pressure just as much as him, if not worse. Even when they'd stepped into the shadow ring.

"Hey," Keelo said, testing the waters. "We've all got our lives now, in separate places, but—what if we do this every year?"

"Already said I was." Fortune picked his teeth.

"All of us." They started to look excited. "We can even get Cora in on it. What if we all come to Solas on this day, every year? We never miss it, no matter what." Keelo turned to Euphor. "How about it?"

Euphor shrugged mildly. "I won't have anywhere else to be. I can ask if the Nightspirits want to."

"I like it, but… it's important for us." Keelo looked at Fortune. "We can go visit Promise's grave. The four of us."

Fortune smiled sadly. "Hell, make it a week. This is just the start."

Keelo smiled back, holding their hand out. A twinge hit Fortune's heart, but he shook it all the same—they all shook on it.

"Well," Keelo said, standing. "It's getting late. Should we head that way?"

"Actually," Fortune interrupted. He hesitated, speaking slowly. "Do y'all mind if I get a head start this time?"

They looked at each other, then nodded.

"Take your time." Euphor pulled him into a gentle hug, light as a butterfly. "We'll be there soon."

Fortune released a breath as Euphor strode away, about to turn to the door.

"Hey." Keelo caught his elbow. When Fortune looked up, they gave a knowing look. "I'm glad you're still here."

Blinking carefully, Fortune bit the inside of his lip. "Yeah."

He made it outside, front door shut, before the floodgates opened.

The two remaining mourning doves watched from the windowsill as he sat next to them, and cried, and cried.

It wouldn't always be like this, he knew. He and Keelo would grow old, and they would likely die first. Euphor had many more years ahead than both of them, so the distance would grow. Either that, or they'd be killed by the things that always plagued them. Monsters. Bandits. Family. Bureaucrats. It wouldn't always be like this.

He heaved a heavy breath, staring up at the burnt clouds he'd always live under.

It wouldn't always be like this. Maybe that wasn't so scary anymore.

He rolled a crystal of tree sap between his fingers, a clump of Constance’s eyelashes encased within. Turns out, he was the one with the millstone to carry.

And Viola… he didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t know if he should look for her. If she intended to cause more harm, he had to, but—

It wasn’t his burden to carry alone.

The door cracked open, and he frantically wiped his eyes—it was only Carmen. He let his hands fall. Without a word, she sat next to him as he sniffled, rubbing his back.

"Heading out?"

Fortune nodded, more tears falling.

She hummed. "Want some company?"

His throat was closed up. "Sorry, I—no, need to be—" He swallowed. "Gotta be alone."

Carmen breathed in. "It's okay."

Fortune pouted. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, man, really." She smiled wryly. "I'm over it."

He didn't smile back. Wouldn't be honest. Instead, he rubbed her hand on his back. She patted it and stood, poised to go back inside.

"Love you," he called after her.

Carmen's smile spread wide, despite herself. "Love you too, buddy."

Then he was alone again. He looked at the doves, but they'd all gone as well.

Shimmy was ready for him. The ride to Inbraeva was startlingly close, especially without the battle weariness of last time. He rode through the night, guided by the almost curated moonbeams along the path. He shook his head—they must've been making fun of him.

The ground grew craggier, and the magma of the devil's domain flowed through open veins, though slower than before. Another welcome light source, though the sun was starting to peak its sleepy head over the horizon.

A small sun greeted him near the mouth of the cave where Reishan dwelled almost two years ago. Aramis stood guard—she didn't run up to him, nor did he claim to understand the expressions of a demon horse, but he was glad to see her regardless.

Built into the side of the mountain, exactly where he'd left it, was a headstone.

Promise the Powerful, it said. Good riddance.

"It's gaudy. Poor taste."

The voice behind him sounded like it wasn't accustomed to coming from a throat instead of being projected directly into a mind; a slight rasp grew under it like moss. Fortune turned, taking in the not-quite-familiar-yet twelve-foot form. It was a gaunt, ghastly being, with blood red skin as cracked and scaled as the land around them. The horns were sawed off nearly to the bone. Only the glowing red eyes held no pretense, regarding him warmly.

"Hey, boo," he said, his own voice starting to grow choked again.

Ercus Repellam huffed. He blurred, suddenly standing next to Fortune. "I take it your thing went well?"

"Pretty good, yeah."

"Good."

"Here, actually." He brought out the charcoal drawing he'd tucked away.

Ercus took it with open revulsion. "Is this Mendax's head?"

"Yup."

"What is your obsession with that thing? I buried it out back after your generous donation."

Fortune shrugged smugly. "Memories."

Ercus sighed, holding the drawing gingerly. "Well, I'll keep this, I suppose."

Fortune studied the way Ercus' longcoat had grown into his body. The dark coattails furled around him like massive bat wings—no, they were bat wings. Underneath them, white downy dove feathers grew with renewed zeal.

"I've remodeled the place," Ercus said. "The furnace had to go—too many unwelcome guests that way. I've added a game table."

Fortune hummed in surprise. "Still got that chess set?"

"I gave it to Miss June." Ercus' form shifted, turning partly to mist, then solidifying. "Speaking of which…"

"No worries there," Fortune assured. "She's not a blabber."

"I know."

"The others are comin' soon, too. Keelo and Euphor, at least."

"I'm glad." Ercus' slight smile was uncanny. "Still, I wouldn't mind making a new debut soon."

Fortune nodded, intrigued. "How's that goin'?"

Ercus grunted. "Slow. He had a lot of cases all across the continent." He shrugged. "I'm thinking of taking things in a new direction."

With a wry grin, Fortune said, "Gods givin' ya trouble?"

"Oh, always. But I have my foot in the door. Reishan wasn't the most cooperative, so I think a real working relationship is possible."

Fortune didn't know how to feel about it exactly, but… he was a good replacement.

"Well." Ercus shifted again, now standing near the cave entrance. Aramis eyed him with disdain. "Ready? I do have cards."

"Uh, first—" Fortune fidgeted, standing upright. "I wanna renew our pact."

Ercus was still. "I'm still new at this, but I don't think it's something you renew."

Fortune shook his head. "I want to."

Ercus' smile reached above his eyes. "Still scared of grandmother coming to collect?"

"Naw, dickhead." Fortune tried to look serious. "I guess I care about my soul now, and… I'm committed. I'm not runnin' from this." He couldn't keep the smile down. "You're stuck with me."

Ercus let the devil shimmer slide away momentarily, and for a moment, he looked like his old mortal self. The moment faded quickly, and he was back—he looked happier this way. He held his long, clawed hand out. "Sign here."

Fortune's grin grew and bubbled into a laugh as he gave his best patron a bear hug instead.