Season of Greed

"They're calling it the "Season of Greed."

"They? Who's they?"

"They, as in, those who hunt Greed's servants."

"Servants who seek to plunder, only to be plundered in turn." Valla leant back against her throne. "I ask you though Josen, who coined the term itself? Did Greed herself declare it to be the season where her demons plunder our world? Or was it coined by those who found opportunity at such intrusion?"

"I cannot say. And I ask whether it's even relevant."

"No." Valla leant back against the throne. "I suppose it isn't."

A silence lingered between the two demon hunters, and not one of the kind that spoke of familiarity. Valla knew that once, she and Josen could call themselves familiar. Might have even called themselves friends. But that had been before the coming of the Fallen Star. Before she left the demon hunters to travel to New Tristram, to fight her way from Khanduras to Kehjistan, to the gates of Heaven itself. She had travelled from Greyhollow, to the Temple of the Firstborn, to the Realms of Fate, and all that was well after crossing the wastes of Pandemonium. She'd finally returned to the order, joining them at the miserable keep they called home. She'd come to lead them. Relocate them to Bastion's Keep, abandoned by its former defenders so that they might return to what was left of their homeland. She knew that the demon hunters were too few in number to adequately defend the keep, but more and more of Sanctuary's denizens joined their order weekly. The spawn of Hell prowled the mortal realm, and few of the old powers had the ability to defend their people. In time, the demon hunters would grow powerful enough to defend the keep and restore it to its old glory. They would fly their banners proudly and declare to demons, "no more. Nothing is beyond our reach."

Good thoughts. She leant back against the throne, running a hand along the demon skull that was located on the right end of the chair. She watched as Josen watched her in turn. Saw and sensed his unease.

"Come on," she said. "Out with it."

Part of the girl that had been a sawyer's daughter remained. Enough to care what her friend and former mentor thought.

"Out with what?"

But only part. Most of her was "Valla." Demon hunter. Ordermaster Slayer of the Prime Evil. The One Who Had Conquered Death. Lady and Mistress of the Order of Demon Hunters.

"Let's have the talk."

"The talk?"

"Yes, the talk. Where you voice your concerns, I pretend to listen, and we go on with what's left of our lives."

And the part that remained? Even she couldn't say."

"Fine," Josen said, stepping forward.

The part that made her feel stretched, as if her body was the bow, and her soul the arrow. The part that made her wake up at night in a cold sweat, fighting the fear within her breast, and reminding herself that she was still among the living. The part that prompted her to take a sip of the wine on the table beside her. Whispering to her that all was right in the world. That all was right with her.

"You've changed, Valla."

The part that was terrible at lying.

"Of course I've changed," she took a sip of the wine again. "Change is the constant of the world."

"As much as I'd like to quote the works of wiser men than myself, I doubt that Master Sprungli was thinking of people like us when he wrote his works."

Us. Not you. She took another sip. Very tactful of you Josen.

"After all-"

"Let us move on," Valla said. "Let us agree that wiser men than me didn't foresee the events of the past few years. Of angels, demons, and an order such as ourselves. We can also assume that he didn't foresee an influx of treasure goblins coming to the Dreadlands to plunder the ruins of northern civilization, attracting mortal plunderers in turn."

"I suppose he didn't, but-"

"Well, what of it?" Valla rose to her feet, taking a final sip of the wine, then tossing the goblet down to the pile of riches that lay beside her throne. Everything from gold and swords, to the skulls of demons that had managed to give her more trouble than usual, earning the right to have their remains displayed as trophies. "Gold, riches, we all seek it. They call this the Season of Greed, but what's changed? The treasure goblins will plunder, adventurers will slay them in turn, adventurers will take their gold, spend the gold, and use their new weapons to kill even more powerful demons and get more gold." She picked up one such piece of gold and tossed it to her old mentor. "Gold makes the world go round Josen. If demons such as Greed seek it, then it doesn't make our own greed any more repugnant by extension."

"Or less," he said.

"Or less," she agreed.

"Hmm." He pocketed the gold piece. "But we both know that this wasn't about treasure goblins or opportunists. This was about you."

Valla sighed, placing a palm to the hilt of a dagger. One of many daggers that were sheathed around her belt. She was in no fear from Josen. Indeed, such was her power, she doubted she was at risk of anything. Diablo might have been released from the Black Soulstone, but she had defeated him once. If the Lord of Terror revealed himself to the world again, she would return the Prime Evil to the abyss that spawned him. Him, Vidian, and anyone else who dared challenge her. After defeating the Dragon Reborn and the Reaper, any threat to mankind could only be lesser.

"Fine," she said, taking a seat back on her throne. "Let's talk about me." Josen opened his mouth, but she interrupted him. "And before you start, yes, I know my history, so however you want to phrase it, you needn't point out that I slew the most powerful demon to have ever left, and defeated Death itself."

"I know your stories Valla," Josen said. "And as fantastical as they may be, I know you speak the truth." He took a step towards the throne, by which point less than three feet separated them. "That's what frightens me."

"Why?" She leant back in the throne, running her hand along the demon skull again. "Have you heard me crying out in the night like a lost dog?"

"No. I haven't. Hearing you do that might make me feel better."

"We hunt demons Josen. Damage to body and mind are to be expected."

"And what of when someone is so damaged that they don't even know it?"

"Josen-"

"Your right hand is on a demon skull, your left hand is on a dagger. Your eyes burn with the light of Hell, Pandemonium, and Light knows what else. There's a pile of treasure by your side that you refuse to spend or impart to those who need it. You've appropriated Bastion's Keep, and I've heard nay a word about those you fought alongside all those years ago, giving their lives to defend this place. And of your companions-"

"My companions," she spat. She leant forward, hands folded like the paws of a lacuni about to pounce. "What do you know of my companions Josen?"

"Only what you told me, which was little." He paused. "And only what my eyes and ears say."

"Which is?"

"Claims similar to yours. Conditions similar to yours. Monsters who slay monsters. Those who are friends with neither Hell, nor Heaven, nor Man."

She frowned. "You're looking at me right now Josen. What do you see?"

He didn't answer. Not immediately at least. That caused her to frown and look to the side, because her delay caused her mind to wander to those whom she had once called friends. Those from whom she'd parted ways with. People, of whom tales had reached her own ears as well. Tales that brought her no joy, and a small amount of fear.

"I see…" Josen trailed off, and Valla turned her gaze back to him. "I think I still see you, somewhere. The 'you' that embodies the best of us all."

"But what do you mostly see?"

"Someone else. Something else. Something that does keep me awake at night."

She frowned. His words. She felt…wounded.

"Then your courage needs bolstering," she said.

She didn't like being wounded. Wounds meant pain. She got to her feet.

"Take out a cadre of hunters into the Dreadlands," she said. "Bring me the heads of Greed's servants, and whatever riches they've plundered."

"Valla-"

"Go." She got to her feet. "This is my order."

Josen hesitated. She was ready to say more, but thankfully, he bowed, with a "yes, my lady." Even more thankfully, he turned and departed the throne room. A throne that no king of Westmarch had ever sat upon, but here, she was ruler of all she surveyed. A land of snow, dust, ash, and the cries of an eternal hunt.

I need air.

It wouldn't take her long to reach the battlements. For her to feel the touch of winter, and try to recall a time when she actually felt it in any real manner. To let the cold run its hands along her, in a bid to forget the fire and fury within her, in a world growing ever more chill. And after that?

The Season of Greed. The hunt.

There was always another hunt.

A/N

I couldn't help but smirk at Season 14 being called the "Season of Greed." Like, this is Diablo we're talking about. It's a loot hunt. Every season is a "season of greed." Heck, the whole game series is arguably based on greed.

Anyway, drabbled this up.