Death After Death

Slany was a town he had a lot of memories of, but encountering it almost out of the blue, even though he knew he was close, felt like something closer to a dream than a reality. Everything looked much the same as the last time he’d left it, but in the half-light of sunset, it seemed that much more magical, and he basked in it. The fact that the little town was still here despite all the strange places he’d been to was a comfort.

There on the hill were the lights of Baron Corwin’s manor, and all the other homes were just as he remembered them. There was no evidence of resurgent goblins or recent strife, either, and Simon smiled at that. Sometimes, it felt like he wasn’t really making a difference, but having seen what this place looked like on the trip where Gregor only had one arm, he knew he’d really moved the needle.

This place very easily could have turned into another Crowvar, he thought to himself.

For a second, he considered whether or not he could go back in time far enough to undo all the damage the Raithewaits caused, but he really couldn’t. While he wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed between level zero and level seven, which is where he spent the most time in the place, he was fairly sure it was a decade or less, and Varten would already be an awful snot-nosed brat by then.

As he walked to the inn and tied Daisy up outside, he laughed at the image. Finally, a version of the man I’d feel bad about killing, he thought to himself.

Simon went inside, still trying to puzzle out the exact timeline involved here, so he reacted a little slowly when the owner and two of the patrons looked at him like they’d seen a ghost. He stood there a moment, trying to decide what the problem was. Old man Wonick had never been able to see his aura before, so that shouldn’t cause a problem now. “Is there a problem?” he asked finally.

“Oh, no, nothing,” the man said, breathing an obvious sigh of relief. “I just thought you was a ghost, is all. Had a good man die recently, and you’re well - you could say that the two of you had more than a passing resemblance.”

“You can say that again,” Norm said. He was one of the regulars who pretty much lived on his bar stool when he wasn’t working the silver mine for the Baron. Simon had spent plenty of nights gambling with him over dice with large beers and small stakes.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Simon said dumbly as he put the pieces together. “I’m just a peddler traveling south. Nothing more than that.”