"You were only ever a figurehead," he starts, facing the giant wolfhound. "Strong enough to deflect the random challengers. Today you've had arson at your stronghold, a familiar bond with a chaotic nobody—no offense meant—and an unknown and unpredictable long-term promise. You look weak. There'll be more outsiders than you can defend against, now. Half the people here rebelled as soon as that ritual went into effect. That throne is empty."

"I fought and gained an ally. This does not weaken me. If you think you can face me you are welcome to try."

"Sure, the only part that makes you weaker was the fire and burglary. It's legitimacy that you've lost. You could attack me, or we could hold a vote on whether this is treason and I'd bet it comes back saying I never crossed a Lord."

"I rule by right of force."

"I would like to object to being called chaotic," she says, trying to regain a little bit of balance—or have the appearance of needing to.

He waits a bit to let her lack of objection to the rest of it sink in, then inclines his head toward her. "Someone who appeared suddenly and got in rather a lot of fights, including a rebellion, to further an individual goal. Someone who reduces Conquest's value as being predictable.

And it was predictability. He was never one of the few Lords who can dominate a city by force."

"I could kill you now. Or if force is not enough, have anyone who answers to me do it."

"The Eye? Did it follow you because you are Conquest or because you were Lord? Probably the latter, and you don't know either. Feel free to try to order it if you want to gamble. If you mean anyone else... Having seen what you've seen today, and knowing the likely outcome, who here would fight for Conquest?"

No one steps forward. The Shepherd wavers, but sees the reaction and leaves his own implement planted on the ground.

...she tilts her head. "I didn't win on a fluke, you know."

"Nor did I lose," Conquest insists. "Our deal spared your life, not mine."

The Sphinx explains, "You earned a draw by being a capable opponent. And so you advertised to every other capable opponent that he was within their reach to topple."

"Maybe he was, before he had me. Now we're stronger—"

"Not that this isn't interesting, but I don't really need to be here anymore." Diana's voice comes from her position up the stairs to Conquest's building. "And Conquest, I think our deal's over. I'm out."

—wait what that wasn't in the script.

"Deal? Diana?" Pause. "Where's Doug?"

"Oh, I'm not Diana. She's dead. I think I'll keep this face a bit longer, but..." she—it?—tugs at a pin sticking out near her ear that has apparently been here all along. That side of her face sags, the opposite stretches too tight, then the impostor straightens it back out.

"You've held up your end of the deal well, it looks like," Conquest says. "Why end it now? And how? I seem to recall promises."

"What."

"You heard right. I'm out.

I made promises, yes. A new one each time he used the usurped familiar bond to pull me back from the Abyss. At the moment that was forcing me to fight for him and defend his territory against intruders—hence taking out Diana and the ghost—but get myself killed a couple more times and I'd find myself sworn to serve only his interests in all things forever So, deal's off."

"That explains the why. Now the how, lest I call you forsworn." (Conquest and Sadde may have slightly differing priorities here.)

...oh. She remembers, now, the story Susan Attwell told her, about Conquest's host.

Conquest has a face-stealing bogeyman familiar, stolen from the senior Attwell. A familiar who is, or was, sworn to protect Joseph. A familiar who can kill someone and take their face and voice and memories and pretend to be them. A familiar who would have been in Conquest's lair, when Diana was burning it down. A familiar who would have done what they could to protect Conquest's interests, for as long as Conquest held onto the old familiar bond. What they could.

Conquest had a familiar who could kill Diana and pretend to be her.

Sadde collapses onto the floor, a sudden dizziness taking her. Her vision starts going hazy and blurry—no, those are tears flooding her eyes, as she tries and fails to focus on the thing wearing her girlfriend's face. A face she kissed so many times, a face she loved, a face she had grown so used to seeing almost every day, a face that grinned when they talked about astrology and this high-tech version of it, a face that creased in growing worry every time Sadde went out to fight something that could—would—kill her and more people—

How many lives had Sadde saved, when she bound the Charybdis? When she killed Dantalanos and bound Hauri to her new seal? When she killed that darkness demon in the factory, that demon that had erased things and people and—

(Half a second ticks, and Sadde's breath hitches as it speeds up, a half-sob escaping her throat while her composure quickly unravels and she can just think dead dead dead she's dead Diana's dead oh god what have I done—)

And the spirits didn't care, did they? They cared about their own notions of fairness, which meant that when you dealt with demons you lost karma. No matter how many lives Sadde had saved, she had debt now. Debt she had always been willing to pay. Foolishly thinking that the only one who would in fact have to pay the price would be her. Not other people, not—not—not Diana—

"How—" she hiccups "—how long?" What conversation with Diana was the last she'd had? What were her last words to her girlfriend? She needed to know—more than anything, she needed to—Diana was dead, she was dead and it was Sadde's fault, she, she was gone, because of a war Sadde started, they could've run and Conquest wasn't strong enough to truly follow up on his promise to hunt them—

(She can't, she can't continue like this, Diana was right, what did she lose, what price was she willing to pay, and how sure was she that that was all she would have to—? Who else would she lose, who else would die to her, her hubris, her arrogance—)

She can feel her familiar getting strengthened. He won their war, everyone knows he won their war, and he's Conquest.

"When we left the forest. She was still alive to use whatever trick she brought, and it was over by the time we arrived here."

(Conquest and the impersonator go back and forth on the subject they care about. Conquest had captured a familiar bond from a practitioner, and now that he had one of his own he wouldn't be able to keep this bogeyman out of the Abyss. Or something. It's really not important right now.)

She... she was going to argue. She realised, once the Queen's Man spoke up, what it would mean for a Lord, the Lord of Toronto no less, to bear her Seal, however briefly. She'd fight, with him, for him, and they'd lose, because Conquest isn't that strong, even with Sadde's help. But it would be meaningful.

Now? Now she doesn't care. That bogeyman that tried to make her feel like she lost everything, it didn't mean anything. She hadn't known what truly losing looked like, so it could only grasp at the abstract idea, it couldn't hit her right. Now she's lost. She's actually genuinely lost, and she doesn't care. It was—not all, but at least in part, for Diana.

And now she's dead, and Sadde doesn't give a fig about whatever fight Conquest's fighting now.

Someone comes up out of the crowd and drops a thick coat around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Duncan says, sitting next to her on the stone steps. “This...you shouldn’t be alone.”

The debate is still going on and still pointless. Conquest makes some point about how he was never really close to being dethroned and this proves it.

Matthew Attwell, with his wife helping him stand, states that he and his family are free now, and starts arguing his claim. Good for him; whatever.

Yeah. Good for him. She idly notes that he must be enduring quite a lot of pain right now, what with his shot leg and stuff. Maybe they magicked it.

She nods slowly at Duncan's words. "Thank you," she murmurs, trying despite herself to keep track of what's going on around her, some notion that she should battling against the overall futility of it all. Her familiar bond with Conquest should probably override the bogeyman's; and it would likewise displace Matthew's oath, Susan sure seemed to imply so rather strongly. The others...

...she really can't bring herself to remember what everyone else's horses here are.

Maybe magic. Certainly there’s been some bandaging-and-stuff but there hasn’t been time for nearly enough serious treatment. He’s leaning on Susan pretty heavily.

He’s arguing that his family got into this mess when Joseph Attwell swore to see an enemy dead, and that enemy ended up as Conquest’s host instead. And Conquest is now drowning out what’s left of the bottled Essence of Canfield with a stream of humanity from a more renewable source. (Everyone turns to look at Sadde, because of course they do.) Joseph wasn’t here to see the end of Canfield, but his son was, so the Attwells aren’t forsworn to begin with and they don’t need Conquest’s protection. Supposedly.

Whether it’s true or not, the Fell-Attwell family is doubling down on it. There’s at least no dramatic thunderclap when each descendant in turn gives Conquest his resignation. 

Duncan is mostly just staying next to her and offering a hug if she wants one. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If what Conquest said was right, it was my help that gave away her position. I should have guessed.”

She shakes her head. "This is my fault. All my fault." Yeah, the Fell-Attwell family is probably right. She got them this, it was part of what she was going for. It was to get Conquest out. Hollow victories abound.

Matthew finishes up with some presumably-inspiring speech about how his granddaughter will be born free. One of his sons, emboldened by the anti-Conquest atmosphere, kicks the dog and spits in his former master’s face. The second part hurts; Sadde can feel the loss of power reverberate through the familiar bond. At least it’s better than Conquest’s last victory was.

Can they get it over with she needs medical care and needs to get away from this rotten city as soon as she possibly can she cannot stand this anymore she hates it she hates Conquest and most of all she hates herself with every fiber of her being.

They’re the last people with a trick to play, and it’s looking pretty clear that Conquest is out. Matthew’s last word is “anyone wants my support, your first act as Lord is running Conquest out of town. And now, I’ve got to get to a hospital.”

He and Jeremy, who has the same destination, each offer Sadde a ride.

"...can you guys wait to run Conquest out of town until I'm a bit better. He's kinda my familiar now."

“And I need to talk to you about that. You’re probably in more danger than you know, long-term.

For now, yeah. You did good and I’ve got no quarrel with you.”