Diamond exits the scene and tension exits Misery through her airways. She’s in this for the long run. She needs to keep her stamina up. Can’t be caught napping.

Another disturbance. A wave front of mutterings and furtive glances accompanies the passage of a singular figure through the dining hall. Misery recognizes that gait at once, that crown of shining hair. So the General has also given Duke Argan the largesse to come and go as he pleases. The Duke of Apis has on a modest jumpsuit the color of spun grass, slightly reflective and detailed in rich brown, but somber as prison garb by his standards. He makes a beeline for her, and she thinks: void fuck, more trouble my way. But the Duke’s expression, although serious, seems more pensive than anxious. He stands next to her, and says, without preamble: “I have been thinking.” Then he hesitates, and Misery lets him take his time, because she’s interested to know where this conversation will head without interference.

“I have been thinking,” he repeats, after several slow breaths. “About what you said before the audience of the Emperor. It has haunted me every day since.”

“Indeed? What about it spoke to you?”

“When you chastised the highborn of the Capital for their excesses and carelessness, I too felt the sting of reproach. I know that I … I have led a life that is unworthy of salvation. Too often I lost myself in the pursuit of joy. Too many times I neglected my duties to seek comfort. I have claimed a holy mantle, yet I did not lead a holy life. I’m deeply ashamed.”

Misery smiles, leaning into generosity. His burden is not hers to bear, and yet here he is, laying it all out for her. If only her problems were as simple as guilt over a lifetime of overindulgence. Still, if he’s going to look to her for guidance, if he wants her to tuck him under her wing, who is she to refuse? “Your shame is unnecessary. It’s counterproductive. In fact, your repentance means more than your mistakes from the past. You didn’t know any better then. But now you do. Your growth is more precious to the Larex Forge than anything else.”

There’s a power in sermonizing, a poetry that’s smoothened a groove in her mind since childhood. Misery hates it here. Misery is comfortable here. She glides along the glossy, frictionless surfaces of devotion and obedience, in the zone, just vibing, leading where she wants her flock to follow.

“Thank you,” says the Duke, the second time in the night she’s been thanked for doing fuck-all. “I will remember, Misery. I’ve spent a lifetime acting like a child. It’s time to do better.”