"Fourteen ninety-seven ... fourteen ninety-eight ... fourteen ninety-nine ...

"Fifteen hundred ..."

Teeth set upon her lower lip, the small gnome nodded. Once. She looked down at the perfect stacks of gold coins, carefully set out on the floor. She sat, feet tucked beneath her, letting out a small sigh.

"Well Mezzy, at least we are back where we were a few weeks ago ...

"That's not bad I guess. Still about five hundred or so from where we were."

Carefully setting the bulk of it aside, she counted a handful more coin.

"That's for the smith, and that's for makin' sure our canteen is filled ... a little bit more here and there I guess. Black smith's doing good, ever since we started climbing the stairs into the highest parts of Karazhan.

"It's been awful expensive ..."

"Awful expensive."

She turned her head, looking sideways up to her companion. the big blue voidwalker just looked down upon the small tableu, and did not speak a word.

But the silence was heavy, louder than any shaouted accusation.

"I know, Mezzy ..."

Her head ducked, deep crimson bangs veiling her eyes.

"I don't think there can ever be enough coin ... "

The warlock's gaze returned to the pretty piles of saffron, sparkling in the soft Shattrah moonlight, high up in the Scryer's aerie. One heartbeat and then two, and all it took was the sweep of a small hand to dash the treasury to the four winds - coins skipping and clattering, until the last one rattled and spun, the empty sound of a metal disc slowly spinning to rest upon the cold stone.

"I don't understand, Mezzy ...

"When did we forget?"

Her arms wrapped tight about herself, as if to ward off the cold.

"I can remember, that first evening. I ... I still wore the Chiarascuro tabard then. Asked, from out of nowhere, to help bring a young dwarf to the Amberstill ranch. And then, then the look on his face when Mister Ellundus and Miss Vamira - they weren't married yet - told him to chose one of the big fluffy riding rams."

"That was very special. That was Veritas."

Reaching out, she picked up one of the scattered coins. She lifted it, turning it over in her fingers contemplatively.

"And now ...

"A few nights ago someone did all but cut Miss Sethlenara open. Called her misguilded and treated her like she was some selfish child who didn't know any better.

"Miss Sethlenara.

"That if she did not change her ways to fit some sort of stereotypical view of how someone else thought things should be, then it would be all her fault for all that went wrong when facing one of Karazhan's lords."

The little demonologist's fingers curled into a small fist.

"Is that what we have become? Just a cartoonish facade with numbers and rankings and calculations attached, that the drive to Karazhan, to Gruul, to Lady Vasj and to the Black Temple, the taking of heads somehow so seductive, so powerful, that it is acceptable to look down and mistreat one of our own to undertake that path?"

Teeth pressed upon her lower lip, turning pink to white.

"Not to mention the fact that the condescending one wasn't experienced enough to realize they didn't know what they were talking about at all - and that the stereotype they were professing was simply the fashion of the hour, somethin' that changes faster than hat styles in Darnassus. I don't think they even realized that the first of us warlocks to battle all the way through Karazhan, that he was schooled just like Miss Seth.

"But that's not the point, Mezzy.

"Mister Chelydra has made it plainly clear ... Veritas has never been about rigid rankings at all. And he's been proven right, time and time again - the fact that we know how we are schooled, enjoy that schoolin' ... well we do tend to do better than those who whom simply strive for some abstract calculations of talents. Of those who focus upon gear above teamwork.

"But that's not the point, Mezzy.

"It ain't.

"The thing I don't understand ...

"Why did that person have to make Miss Sethlenara feel bad? What need was that? What purpose? It served nothing but to drive a sword between her and all of us. I can't imagine few victories more empty."

Finally lifting her head, the warlock looked across into the dark.

"I know ...

"I too have climbed the broken stairs to stand before the shade of Aran, have seen him returned to the spirit plane where he belongs.

"And yet ... I don't know how to feel about that. I am very honored to be able to fight next to my guildmates, and I am giving my all to stand true to them. And yet ... and yet ... when I look over my shoulder I can't help but to feel a twisting in my tummy, knowing that this opportunity is is a treasure - and there are those who have been left behind.

"And I know what that feels like.

"I know what it is like to hear the harsh words spoken, that it must be this way, and if it doesn't work for you, well ... okay, thanks, bye.

"To hear that those left behind are valued only as replacements for those who do strive within Karazhan. Are they then children who should be happy with the hopes of table scraps?

"I don't think they understand.

"It's not something as simple as not being able to find folks to explore the wings of Tempest Keep, it's not the selfish desire to walk away with the treasures of the Shattered Halls, or to be able to hang Vorpil's head upon one's mantle piece.

"There is a very important difference ...

"It's not walking those shadowed halls, its who you are walking those halls with.

"To be able to participate, to be able to truly feel that they too are part of Veritas."

She looked at the image of the gold disc.

"He was wrong you know. We aren't losing those whose only goals are to visit those dark places. Folks like that, well, to tell the truth, are not the type who would be bothered at all by this, who can't see beyond this scrap of stamped metal.

"The ones we are losing are the nice folks, the ones who walked with us for the camraderie."

"In the end Mezzy, this is just a piece of metal."

Once again she turned it over, looking upon it as if it were some odd object, a bit of broken gear whose siren's call she just didn't understand.

"Coins and bits of pieces of armor ...

"Coins and the last breath of a ghostly knight ...

"Or does the shade of Medivh truly have the last laugh and while we may take down his chess piece warlord, we have given ourselves less value than pawns in a game of our own making?"

The silence is heavy, for a moment all is still.

When she turned to her oldest friend, barely above a whisper were her words.

"When but one of those we said we cared for become but memories more haunting than any ghost ...

"When but one of those we said we cared for and then caught in our path been hurt ...

"Then, Mezzy ...

"Then ...

"Has not the cost of Karazhan become too dear?"

We are our brothers keepers.