Wisdom, Niko thought as he leaned his cheek against his long-handled rake, cannot be had without price. And that price is blood. The sound of it in your veins. The pound of it in your head. The volume of it in a human body; the sickness when you've spilled it.

You must become like yourself.

Gods are nothing without their worshipers; they act on the affairs and the passions of men.

What is needed is never to be had without price.

So some will be left who remember.

If cities have souls, Sanctuary's was troubled long before Tempus got here, and will be troubled long after he and his are gone.

You have crossbows: Shoot early; shoot often.