level_main_16-10_beg

Snow, snow, snow.

Snow is falling on his head.

It turns into boiling water, into endless cries, into the weight of the dead.

Hands are not enough to sweep it away. It is wet, heavy, sinking...

Until it crushes those who are inside, those who are still living.

(Humming)

Babushka, h-how are you feeling?

(Humming)

...Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

(Humming)

The clock, ticks, tocks.

The clock, doesn't wait, for anyone.

But we, shouldn't sing?

Let's... l-let's go.

No more survivors here.

I don't think I have the strength to stand. Are you there, Lidiya? I could use a hand—

Lidiya?

Over there.

Someone's coming.

Rankin...

The fire's gone out.

Yes, it went out a while ago. Some survivors found us. We must do something.

Are you going to make Hawley kneel here forever? Even if he went mad and did all this, is it really necessary to punish him this way?

The fire's gone out, and it's getting cold. He'll die.

Yes, he'll die. But...

Not yet.

Rankin looks toward the entrance to the village.

The fence that used to be there was designed to stop foraging tuskbeasts, not anyone determined enough to enter, whether their intentions were benevolent, or malicious.

Scattered figures begin to emerge from behind the remains of the fence.

They look this way hesitantly, then walk away timidly.

Rankin sounds almost like he is muttering to himself—

I was wrong, Nikto.

What do you mean?

I was wrong.

In what way?

Hawley wasn't mad. He wasn't shouting for Vetochki's <i>babushka</i>, or to his dead son. He was shouting at me.

'...I have committed murder, not for food, nor for water, nor for abode.'

'But for those who walk with me, for the salvation of their souls.'

I didn't hear anything. Even if he did say it, it's just the kind of prayer that Vetochki and her babushka pray all the time.

It's not like they started worshipping the Yurodstvo and the Tsar yesterday.

Yurodstvo? Tsar? No, not distant or ethereal things like that. He was trying to save my soul, even after I made him kill his own son.

But what is a soul, even? Who can prove that it exists? Is it more precious than mortal life? It's ridiculous... silly!

I shouldn't have forced him. But now, the worst has happened. If he did what he did before in order to fulfill my wishes, then it was for the same reason that he set this fire.

No, it's nonsense, listen to me—

It might as well have been me who set this fire.

I must pay for my crimes.

Don't be a fool, Rankin!

I'll keep this brief.

What... what else do you have to say?

We gave you food and water.

Is THIS how you repay us?

No.

Are you here to chase us away, or to finish what you started?

I want you to witness the perpetrator face justice.

Ha... haha...

Hahahahaha...

Perpetrator? Justice? Will you kill all the arsonists, killers, and robbers in front of me?

No, you won't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be coming to talk to me while armed.

I'll pretend I didn't hear anything. Leave, unless you're trying to wipe us out.

Never come back again.

Rankin puts down his pickaxe and all other weapons, then raises both hands in the air.

Rankin!

Stay back, Nikto.

You still have your Arts...

Right here. The culprit is right here. You can do what you wish with him.

What?

I've put down my weapon. I won't use any Arts.

You can do what you wish.

I see. You would shield the others with your own life.

I've never been good with numbers... but I can tell that's not a fair deal.

I'm right here. I won't fight back.

I don't want you! We don't want you! You weren't here when the fire started!

I want the one who set the fire, the one who robbed my home and burned it down—

I want the one who killed my wife!

Even if I was the reason for his violence?

It was my arrogance that put the others in a desperate situation. It was I who forced him down the path of violence.

You should kill me.

No.

Listen to me—

We want him. We don't want anyone else.

A small space has been cleared in the rubble to serve as an impromptu execution ground.

A crowd has gathered to watch. It is as though they cannot help themselves, like huddling around a fire in the winter night, yet fearful that its warmth might burn.

I still don't understand. Why did Hawley set the fire?

Why would he do this to a village that helped us?

He's mad.

He was never the same again after his son died.

But—maybe he didn't set the fire? Rankin wanted to satisfy the villagers, and Hawley happened to be sick.

The Hawley I knew would never do something like that...

I don't know, but I trust Rankin. Didn't you know? He even tried to trade his life for Hawley's.

Thankfully, the villagers wanted the real culprit, not a good person trying to take his place.

...It hasn't started yet, but I can't watch...

I-I'll be over there. I need some rest.

Stop, Rankin's talking.

Pretty much everyone's here.

(Mutters) ...share...

(Mutters) Pain...

I have a few words to say before I execute this man. I'm not trying to defend him, or seek forgiveness from the victims.

Yes, he deserves to die.

He betrayed kindness and trust. He placed all of us in danger. He harmed the innocent, in direct violation of our original intent, which was simply to survive.

Death may be inevitable on the path we chose, but it should never have happened this way.

Watch. Remember the lesson, and remember that the one about to take the life of this man is the one least qualified to do so.

I am executing him, on the wishes of the victims, and on my own decision.

This will be the last decision I make as leader. No one should bear the burden of killing his own comrade. Therefore...

Repent...

Sin.

The snow has piled up on Hawley's shoulder. He kneels on the ground, as though he did not hear any of what Rankin said, and puts his hands together in front of his chest in a gesture of piety.

He looks up, and exposes his neck to the executioner.

Yes... I must repent my sins. I shall do the deed.

(Whisper) <i>Do vstrechi</i>, Hawley.

Gah!

Damn... I thought I could at least put this mirror together. Now it's gotten even more broken.

Talk about unlucky.

Can't we at least take Hawley's body, Rankin?

No.

What use do they have for a dead body? Do they want to leave it out in the wilds...

We're not in any position to negotiate.

Besides, all of you may come to the same end if you continue to follow me.

What do you mean?

Who do we follow, if not you? Now's not the time for jokes.

It's not a joke. It's a decision.

A decision that I already talked about.

Rankin turns around. The tired, unkempt crowd immediately gather around him, simply because he is here.

They look towards their leader, blankly waiting for the next instruction.

Do we keep going south, Rankin?

I don't have any strength left. I just wanted a roof over my head that could keep the snow away, but we don't even have that anymore, do we?

We'll die if we keep going...

We'll die if we stay.

I couldn't find them, Rankin.

Pavel and Bogina... I never found them, not even their bodies. I'm sorry.

The villagers didn't want me anywhere near them, not even when I put down my pickaxe. They're afraid. You could see it on their faces from a mile away.

I didn't want to threaten them. Let's go, Rankin.

Take us away.

Rankin scans each face in the crowd, whether they spoke or not.

I'm sorry, friends.

Rankin?

I can't decide your path going forward.

As I said, it was not Hawley who should have been punished; it was me.

I was the one who drove him to madness and violence. It was my decisions that drove him to desperation.

Before this happened, I didn't even realize that not everyone was ready to look death in the eye.

There's no longer any doubt. I don't have what it takes to be a leader. My last and best act as leader is to relinquish this position...

And give you back the power of choice.

Silence.

Long silence.

No one answers. Hardly anyone even breathes, not so much a twitch on their faces.

All who hear the decision are silent, until a trembling voice emerges from the end of the procession.

You're... abandoning... us?

No, Vetochki.

Then, what? What you said... how do we, understand it?

The crowd parts for the one who asked the question.

Vetochki does not move forward. She stands where she is, her fists clenched so hard that her knuckles have turned white.

You say, you won't lead, anymore! After we've come, so far?

Y-You're abandoning, all of us.

I'm not! I must do this, before things get worse for everyone.

No more lives must be lost because of my foolish decisions. We didn't escape from the mines, that hellhole, for this.

H-Hellhole? But it's, my home.

What do you mean?

The mines, mining district, is my... home.

It was, many people's, homes.

Home? I thought you all wanted out, like me.

It's because, of trust. We trust, you—Rankin.

You... you didn't, know?

I thought you chose to leave because you've wanted to for a long time.

You killed, the black bugs. You stood up, and said we, should leave, so... we left.

You caught Hawley, killed him, and said, it was wrong, to leave. You said, it is, a choice.

I-I don't understand! What are we, to you?

Friends, family... it's complicated and hard to define. But it's exactly because you're important to me that—

This is, the home, of the villagers.

Maybe they can, rebuild the village. What about us? Where do... we go?

You took us, so far. If you don't, lead anymore...

How do, we go—go back?

Rankin, tell me...

How do, we live?

Vetochki.

No. The way you, call me. You're treating me, like a child. I-I'm not.

You're not, talking back.

You just proved what I had only guessed.

What?

All I've done up to this point was to force my ideas on you. You didn't understand my plan, you didn't understand the meaning behind my actions.

You trusted me, not your own choices. What will you do when I'm not around to lead you?

I appreciate your trust, but this isn't right.

I'm going to tell you what's happening, and then you can make your choice.

Rankin once again scans each face before him, making sure that he has everyone's undivided attention.

Our ultimate goal is to reach the Kazimierzian border, and find the village of the Infected. In the process, though, this journey must become a reason for Ursus to recognize us.

But it will put us in grave danger, because it challenges the very foundation of the Empire.

People before us have tried and failed, leaving behind nothing but a symbol and a name, on this snowy, swampy tundra.

What if I told you that following me might mean following in their footsteps? It's not something I would recommend for anyone who wants to live, anyone with a brain.

But I never even gave Hawley a choice. That's why he's dead.

He showed me that I must return the choice to you.

The crowd does not answer, but there is some faint commotion.

Slowly, the crowd begins to split. Some stand next to Rankin or behind him, others in front of him.

When do we leave, Rankin?

Once everyone has made their choice.

More and more people move towards Rankin, their footsteps like the delayed ringing of the bell, announcing the end of a shift.

One, two, three... one miscount may mean one more soul lost to the mines.

Who doesn't, want to live?

Why do we, have to choose?

I-I...

Vetochki can feel them growing more and more distant.

She subconsciously takes a step forward, trying to hold on to something, but someone grabs her and stops her in her tracks.

—Vetochki.

S-Serafina?

Y-You're going too? Where were you? I-I don't know, how to...

Th-They're all leaving! Leaving us to, go die!

It's alright, it's alright. I was just bandaging up Nikto, he cut himself on some broken mirror shards—

It's not important. I heard the last part of your exchange. You want to live. There's nothing wrong with that. You don't have to make yourself walk a path that you don't agree with, and I'm not going with them.

Y-You won't? You're not, leaving?

Yes, me and my team will continue to assist the wounded. Nikto is not leaving either, is he?

...Nikto?

The split crowd continues to move. Raidian could not see Nikto, so she begins scanning for a specific electrical signal with her Arts. It does not take her long.

He's in the rear. He won't leave—

I'm sorry, Gospozha Serafina.

Nikto—

I'm sorry, Vetochki.

I can't go back. You know that I came from Grypherburg. The mines were never my home.

Besides, it's not a sure thing that we'll die. Maybe things won't get so bad with me keeping an eye on the man.

We must make opportunity with our own hands, after all, right?

No. No, no, no!

Why... why?

Why must, it be, like this?

Why must we... always...

...part?

Go home, Vetochki. Don't catch a cold.

Go to bed, and mom and dad will be back when you wake up again.

Be a good girl who doesn't cry or complain, make your <i>babushka</i> happy... and you'll find a piece of chocolate on your pillow when you wake up!

...Strike...

Rights... no... response...

...Execution...

'Mama.'

'Papa.'

'Ditya.'

...'Babushka?'

(Hums)

One word! Just one word!

One word, and my soul will be healed!

(Hums)

I... I—

—I beg forgiveness... for the sin...

Of killing your child...

'I shall...'

'I shall meditate and share in your pain.'

'For you, for him. May we all repent our sins from the bottom of our hearts.'

'Thy blessings walk, on earth as it is in heaven.'

...Babushka?

Baby, baby♪

Close your eyes♪

Someone's outside the window♪

Knocking on the door♪

Baby, baby♪

Hold your breath♪

Someone's putting on a skin♪

Walking in♪

Here it comes♪

Here it comes♪

(Hums)

...Babushka...

(Hums)

Babushka... is someone, outside?

No one stops, no one waits.

They're... gone.

They cry, kiss your hand, say they didn't, want to be apart... but they're gone.

Everyone has their own path.

Must this be? But, why...

You know the reason, suffering soul.

Rankin... never taught me... how to, read that watch.

Second hand, clock...? I can hear, the bell.

As always.

Babushka... why is your hand so cold?

The fire is hot.

I'm cold... and it hurts...

But it's not... because of, fire.

I don't understand...

It's alright. Most people live their entire lives in obliviousness.

Until... they die?

Yes, until they die.

(Hums)

Babushka... what are you, singing about?

Love.

But I... hurt?

Because you love.

Love makes people hurt, makes them persevere, makes them docile.

Love makes people strong, makes them wealthy, makes them noble.

You love, and therefore you hurt. I love you, and therefore I share in your pain.

Vetochki says no more. She closes her eyes and curls up tightly, but no longer dares touch the hand that caresses her cheek as usual.

She had heard these words before, back when she did not need to find support for them amongst broken pieces. Now, though, she is no longer sure.

How can one be more wealthy and noble than kings and nobles if one lives in obliviousness?

How can one be stronger than the stick of authority if one is powerless?

The campfire is very near. It should have brought warmth, but Vetochki feels cold in her limbs, her innards, every part of her body—

Passing through the cold, withered hand.

'I shall meditate and share in your pain.'

'May we all...'

'...repent our sins from the bottom of our hearts.'

The voice is simply a repetition, an echo.

The echo points towards... doom.