The morning in the Avalorne mansion was like any other, filled with the lively energy of Vergil's family. The dining hall basked in sunlight streaming through tall windows, illuminating the warmth of their breakfast table. Mina and Lira were once again locked in a playful debate about assassination techniques, their words tumbling over each other. Meanwhile, Aria and Elen sat across from them, quietly exchanging notes on the nuances of magic. Sylvy, ever serene, focused solely on her food, seemingly immune to the commotion around her.
Vergil sipped his tea, observing the familial chaos with a faint smile. However, his sharp eyes didn't miss the slight pallor on Freya's face. "You seem pale today, Freya," he said, his tone calm but laced with concern. "Did you sleep well?"
Freya hesitated, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. "I had... an unusual dream last night," she admitted.
Aeka, sitting beside her, raised an eyebrow. "A dream? What kind of dream?"
Freya set her fork down and recounted what she had seen—the vast prison, the colossal dragons, and the names they had given her. As she described Luxarion, Helios, and Zerathul, Vergil's expression darkened slightly. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful.
"Did the dragons introduce themselves?" Vergil asked quietly.
Freya nodded. "Luxarion did, and he mentioned the other two... Helios and Zerathul."
At the mention of the names, Aeka froze mid-sip of her tea, her eyes narrowing in alarm. Freya noticed the shift in both Vergil and Aeka's demeanor. "How do you know their names?" Freya asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
Vergil exhaled deeply, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Because those dragons reside within me," he said, his voice steady but somber. "They're not just random creatures—they are primordial dragon souls, beings of immense power that were sealed inside me long ago. Technically, you could say I'm a walking prison for them."
Freya's eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you mean... a prison? And why?"
Vergil's gaze turned distant, as if recalling a painful memory. "These dragons—Luxarion, Helios, and Zerathul—possess enough power to destroy this world. If their seals were broken, their combined strength could consume universe entirely. The only reason they remain contained is because of the seals placed on me. If I lose control... if I allow myself to be consumed by rage or despair... their power could be unleashed."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Freya tried to process the revelation, her mind spinning. "So... was my dream just that? A dream?"
Before Vergil could answer, Aeka leaned forward, her expression serious. "It wasn't a dream," she said firmly. "What you saw was real. Only those Vergil truly trusts are able to see the prison that binds the dragons."
Freya turned to Aeka, her brow furrowed. "But why? Why did I see it?"
Aeka hesitated before answering, her voice soft. "Because Vergil trusts you completely. That's why the prison revealed itself to you. And just so you know..." She glanced at Vergil, her tone lowering. "If my brother ever loses control and unleashes their power, the results are devastating. I've seen him destroy an entire city with a single strike in his fury."
Freya's blood ran cold at the revelation, her mind reeling with the implications. A faint tremor ran through her fingers as she looked at Vergil, who met her gaze with a calm but resolute expression.
"This is my punishment," Vergil said softly, "for failing to protect someone who was important to me. This burden... these dragons... they are the price I must pay."
Freya opened her mouth to ask more, but Aeka stood suddenly, interrupting her. "Well, that's enough heavy talk for breakfast," Aeka said with a smile, though her tone carried a subtle edge. "I need to head to the Aeka Touch factory. I had some ideas last night, and there's also an important guest I need to meet."
Vergil nodded at his sister's words, then turned to Freya. "I'll be reopening the clinic today, so I'll head there shortly. But before I leave..." He smiled faintly. "I've prepared a surprise for you, Freya. You'll find out soon enough."
Curiosity flickered in Freya's eyes, but before she could question him, Vergil rose from his seat. "For now, finish your breakfast and prepare for the day. We'll talk more later."
The Avalorne Clinic opened its doors once again, the small building bustling with life as adventurers trickled in for health check-ups and news exchanges. Vergil stood at his usual station, exuding an air of calm authority, while Freya assisted him with her usual efficiency. The two moved seamlessly through their tasks, their presence comforting to the locals and adventurers alike.
One adventurer, a burly man with a patched cloak and a scar across his cheek, leaned forward after receiving treatment. "Lord Vergil," he began, his voice a mix of admiration and curiosity, "have you heard about the mercenary band led by an Ogre?"
Vergil raised an eyebrow but continued his work, wrapping a bandage around the man's arm. "An Ogre leading mercenaries? That's rare. What's so special about them?"
"They're incredibly skilled," the man replied. "They've been taking on high-profile missions—defending caravans, raiding monster dens, even assisting kingdoms in small skirmishes. Word is they've got discipline that rivals most military units."
Another adventurer chimed in from a nearby chair. "Speaking of skirmishes, have you heard about the war in Darkgate Forest? The elves and Heimdal Kingdom have been at each other's throats recently."
Vergil's hand paused briefly before resuming its precise movements. "A war in Darkgate Forest? That's Britalienne territory. Did the Empress intervene?"
The adventurer nodded vigorously. "Oh, she did. Empress Elisa was furious when she found out. She mobilized troops and sent full military support to the elves. Supplies, reinforcements, you name it. The Heimdal Kingdom didn't stand a chance once the Empire stepped in. Rumor has it, they backed off after some sort of negotiation. Something about an ancient elf legend the Empire holds."
Freya, intrigued, leaned in as she handed an herbal salve to another patient. "What kind of legend?"
The adventurer shrugged. "No idea. Something the elves and Heimdal Kingdom both value. But whatever it was, it ended the conflict quickly."
Vergil exchanged a glance with Freya, his expression thoughtful. He nodded to the adventurer, acknowledging the information. Freya handed the man a vial of medicine. "This should help with the pain. Take it twice a day," she instructed.
As they moved on to the next patient, a young woman entered the clinic, her face pale but determined. She was accompanied by a heavily armored adventurer who seemed nervous. After a brief examination, Vergil looked up from his work. "You seem in good health," he noted. "What brings you to Avalorne?"
The armored man chuckled awkwardly. "I'm just escorting her. She's been talking about meeting you, Lord Vergil."
Vergil nodded for the young woman to speak, and she hesitated before blurting out, "There's a place—far from here—where humans and monsters live together. It's peaceful now, but it wasn't always. Twelve years ago, there was a great war, but after it ended, they formed an alliance."
Vergil's interest was piqued. He folded his arms and regarded her curiously. "A place where monsters and humans coexist? That's unusual. Tell me more."
The woman's face brightened at his interest. "It's a small contingent, but it's thriving. They have doctors, healers, and even specialists who treat monsters exclusively. It's like a sanctuary of sorts."
Freya leaned closer, intrigued. "Doctors who specialize in monsters?"
The young woman nodded. "Yes! They study monster biology, their ailments, and how to treat them. It's fascinating."
Vergil's lips curled into a faint smile. "That does sound interesting. Perhaps it's worth a visit."
The armored man laughed. "You won't regret it, Lord Vergil. The place is incredible. They've got stories, knowledge, and sights you won't find anywhere else."
As the adventurers left, Freya turned to Vergil, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Are we really going to visit this place?"
Vergil smirked. "Not immediately, but it's worth considering. A place like that could hold valuable knowledge—and potential allies. For now, let's focus on Avalorne and the tasks at hand."
The Avalorne Clinic door creaked open, drawing Vergil's attention as a pair of identical blonde-haired women entered. Both exuded a calm yet confident aura, their bright locks tied neatly behind them. One carried a small female Ogre child in her arms, while the other cradled a male Ogre child. The sight was unusual enough to make Freya glance up from her station in surprise.
The elder sister, with an air of authority, spoke first. "We've heard of your clinic's reputation, Lord Vergil. We'd like to get checked, and perhaps you could also examine our children."
Vergil nodded and gestured for them to take a seat. "Of course. Let's begin."
While Vergil attended to the elder sister, Freya took it upon herself to entertain the Ogre children. They were boisterous and full of curiosity, tugging on Freya's cloak and giggling as she made funny faces to keep them amused.
As Vergil worked, he asked casually, "You mentioned the children. Their father—is he by chance the Ogre mercenary leading the group I've been hearing about?"
The elder sister exchanged a glance with her younger twin and smiled faintly. "Yes, that's correct. Our husbands is Ogres who leading Black Shield mercenary group. In fact, he have some other wife and kid too."
Vergil's eyes narrowed slightly in thought as he finished his examination. "Interesting. I've heard the group is highly skilled. A leader like that could prove valuable—especially to the Empire."
The younger sister, now seated for her turn, tilted her head. "You seem to know much about mercenary work. Are you connected to the Empire?"
Vergil smirked slightly, a glimmer of intrigue in his icy blue eyes. "I've completed my share of special tasks for Empress Elisa II. She often relies on my expertise in delicate matters."
The twins exchanged knowing smiles before the elder reached into her satchel, producing a silver card. "If that's the case, perhaps you should take this. It's our group's contact information. We're always open to forming alliances—especially with individuals of your reputation."
Vergil accepted the card, inspecting the embossed name: Black Shield Mercenary Group. The design was simple yet conveyed strength and reliability. He tucked it into his coat.
As Freya returned with the Ogre children, she handed the twins a small bag containing vitamins. "Both of you are in perfect health, but these vitamins will help ensure you stay that way—especially while caring for little ones."
The sisters thanked her, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, they left the clinic, the Ogre children waving enthusiastically at Freya as they departed.
As the clinic settled back into its usual rhythm, Vergil leaned back in his chair, examining the card once more. Freya, wiping down a counter nearby, glanced at him curiously.
"Black Shield," he murmured. "An Ogre-led mercenary group with ties to the Empire's best interests. This could be an opportunity."
Freya tilted her head. "Do you think they could be allies for the Empress?"
Vergil nodded. "Potentially. If they're as disciplined and capable as the rumors suggest, they might be exactly what the Empire needs for certain... covert operations. I'll have to meet their leader in person to confirm."
Freya smiled. "Looks like we might be heading out again soon."
Vergil returned her smile faintly. "Perhaps. For now, let's focus on the clinic. The rest can wait."
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with adventurers and townsfolk stopping by for treatment and idle chatter. Yet, in the back of Vergil's mind, plans were already forming—a web of possibilities sparked by the encounter with the mysterious twins and their connection to Black Shield.
Vergil sat at his desk, pen in hand, as he drafted a letter to Empress Elisa II. The faint sound of Freya tidying the clinic served as background noise while he carefully chose his words.
To Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Elisa II,
I bring promising news regarding a potential auxiliary branch for the Brotherhood of Assassin—a mercenary group named Black Shield.
Earlier today, I encountered the wives and children of the group's leaders. I can confirm that the group is led by Ogres, a fact that further intrigued me. Their reputation precedes them, and I believe their strength and discipline could serve as a valuable asset to the Empire.
Included with this letter is the contact card they provided me. It appears to possess an embedded communication function, which could be utilized for establishing further contact or negotiating terms.
Should you deem this worth exploring, I am at your service to arrange a formal meeting or assess their capabilities further.
Vergil Ragnaros
Satisfied with the tone, Vergil folded the letter neatly and sealed it with his personal insignia. He summoned a white owl, its feathers glistening like snow under the morning light. Tying the letter securely to the bird's leg, he whispered, "To the Imperial Palace of Britalienne Empire." The owl hooted softly before spreading its wings and soaring into the sky, disappearing over the horizon.
Turning to Freya, Vergil began, "Freya, you may return home to rest. I'll be heading out to scout locations for an assassin training ground. It's better if you—"
Before he could finish, Freya stepped forward, her expression firm. "I'm not leaving your side, Vergil. Wherever you go, I'll go."
Vergil exhaled slowly, knowing there was little point in arguing. Freya's loyalty was unwavering, and her determination unmatched. "Very well," he said, his tone resigned but warm. "But stay close. We'll need to be discreet."
Vergil emerged from the quiet sanctuary of his clinic, the faint creak of the wooden door breaking the stillness of the early afternoon. The streets of Avalorne bustled with life, merchants calling out their wares, children dashing past in playful mischief, and travelers exchanging words in hushed tones. Yet, Vergil's sharp blue eyes were not drawn to the liveliness but rather to the spaces in between—the unused corners, abandoned buildings, and overlooked alleys that seemed to whisper forgotten tales.
Freya followed closely behind him, her wolf-like ears twitching with every sound, her tail swaying slightly as she matched Vergil's purposeful stride. "Vergil," she asked curiously, her voice soft yet inquisitive, "do you truly believe we'll find a suitable location today?"
Vergil's gaze remained fixed ahead. "Every town has its secrets, Freya. You just have to look in the right places."
As they moved through the bustling streets, Vergil stopped occasionally to speak with the townsfolk, his calm demeanor putting even the most suspicious residents at ease. He asked simple questions: Were there any abandoned buildings nearby? Properties left behind by their owners? Places no one dared to go? The locals, though surprised by the directness of Avalorne leader, answered him with a mixture of curiosity and respect.
Their path eventually led them to the edge of Avalorne, where the lively chatter of the marketplace faded into an eerie quiet. Narrow alleyways twisted like a maze, the shadows stretching long and dark as the sun dipped lower. Freya hesitated, her sharp instincts warning her of potential danger.
"Vergil, this place feels... different," she murmured, her golden eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings.
Vergil stopped and turned to her, his expression calm but resolute. "It's exactly the kind of place I've been searching for. Come."
They ventured deeper into the labyrinth of shadowy streets until they came upon a building that seemed to groan under the weight of its own decay. The brothel stood before them, its once-vibrant facade faded to a dull, peeling gray. The windows were boarded up, though faint light seeped through the cracks, hinting at life within. The air smelled of damp wood and lingering despair.
Vergil approached the entrance, his boots crunching against broken glass and debris. A group of courtesans sat idly near the doorway, their dresses faded and worn, their faces etched with exhaustion. One of them—a woman with tangled auburn hair and hollow eyes—looked up as they approached, her gaze narrowing with suspicion.
"What do you want?" she asked flatly, her voice barely concealing her wariness.
"I'm here to ask questions," Vergil replied evenly, his voice low but commanding. "What happened to this place?"
The woman's lips tightened before she answered. "The owner left. Ran off with some Lord who promised her a grand life in a far-off city. That was months ago. She took everything worth keeping, left us with nothing but this... ruin."
Another courtesan, younger but no less weary, stepped forward with a mocking grin. "And now, here comes Lord Vergil himself, gracing us with his presence in such a dangerous part of town. What brings Avalorne's leader to a place like this?"
Vergil's expression didn't change, but his hand drifted to the hilt of his black sword, the faint glint of its blade catching what little light reached the alley. "Danger is no stranger to me," he said quietly, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "I lived with it every day long before I came to Lunafama."
The courtesan's grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine curiosity. "Then why are you here?"
Vergil took a slow step forward, his gaze sweeping across the brothel and its occupants. "When I trained under my Mentor, he built a brotherhood on more than just blades and shadows. He relied on a network of courtesans—clever, resourceful women who gathered information, forged alliances, and uncovered secrets others couldn't. They were invaluable. This place," he gestured to the crumbling building, "could become something like that. Strong. Respected. Useful."
The auburn-haired courtesan shook her head bitterly. "Most of us can't even read or write, let alone gather information or keep accounts. We're... useless."
Before Vergil could respond, Freya stepped forward, her voice firm and confident. "You're not useless. I can teach you."
The courtesans turned to her, surprise flashing across their faces.
"I'll teach anyone willing to learn," Freya continued. "Reading, writing, arithmetic—all the skills you need to become more than what you are now. And once you've proven yourselves, you'll have a place in this new network we're building."
Vergil nodded approvingly. "Freya will handle your training. In the meantime, I'll send craftsmen and architects to restore this place. It won't stay a ruin for long."
The courtesans exchanged hesitant glances, hope sparking faintly in their weary eyes. One of them, braver than the rest, stepped forward and said, "If you're serious... thank you, Lord Vergil. And you too, Lady Freya."
Vergil turned, his black cloak swaying as he began to walk away. "Don't thank me yet," he said over his shoulder, his voice steady and commanding. "You'll have to earn this second chance. And I expect nothing less than perfection."
Vergil turned away from the brothel, his black cloak billowing slightly as he stepped into the dimly lit alley. The weight of his decision lingered in the air, but he didn't look back. His work here had only just begun.
At the alley's exit, a horse-drawn carriage awaited him. The sturdy black carriage bore no insignia, yet its polished exterior and the disciplined stance of the coachman signaled that it belonged to someone of importance. As soon as Vergil and Freya approached, the driver gave a respectful nod and opened the door.
Vergil stepped in first, his movements fluid, controlled. Freya followed, settling into the seat across from him. The door shut with a solid thud, and the horses began to move.
The rhythmic sound of hooves against cobblestone filled the silence between them. The cool autumn air seeped in through the small carriage windows, carrying with it the crisp scent of fallen leaves. Vergil rested his elbow against the window frame, his sharp blue eyes scanning the shifting landscape outside. The trees that lined the path bore leaves tinged with gold and crimson, their slow descent to the earth marking the undeniable presence of autumn.
Freya noticed his gaze lingering on the sky, his expression unreadable. She tilted her head slightly. "Something on your mind, Vergil?"
Vergil's fingers tapped idly against the hilt of his sword, his voice low and contemplative. "I was just thinking... I don't know what the future holds."
Freya blinked, surprised by his rare admission of uncertainty. "What do you mean?"
Vergil exhaled slowly. "Mina," he said at last. "She's finally old enough to undergo the Rite of Choice."
Freya's ears twitched. "The Rite of Choice? What is that?"
Vergil turned his gaze to her, his expression calm but serious. "It's a tradition in Assassin Brotherhood. When an assassin disciple reaches the right age and skill, they're sent far from home for two years. During that time, they must live as ordinary people, taking on any profession they choose—except that of an assassin."
Freya's golden eyes widened. "So… Mina will leave? For two whole years?"
Vergil gave a slow nod. "There is some adding rule. She must live, struggle, and grow as other person, when an Assassin born, a fake person is also born. Mina must life use that fake person identity for 2 year, and she can choose to be anything—a merchant, a scholar, a knight, a healer. But if she still wishes to walk the path of the Ragnaros, it will be by her own will, not because i put her on this path."
Freya's tail flicked behind her as she absorbed his words. A hint of curiosity flickered across her face. "Why didn't I get that chance?"
Vergil's lips curved slightly, though there was no amusement in his expression. "Because you and I already made our choice. You chose the life of an adventurer long before I met you. And as for me… I've walked too many roads. I've seen too much."
He leaned back against the cushioned seat, his voice taking on a distant edge. "I've already wandered through endless battlefields, stood among demons and human, commanded armies, and betrayed them in turn. I've been a soldier, a mercenary, a general of the Demon King himself." His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword. "I no longer have the luxury of choosing another life."
Freya studied him quietly, her sharp instincts sensing that this was one of the rare moments Vergil allowed himself to dwell on his past. Then, after a moment, she asked, "Do you think I'll ever see what you've seen?"
Vergil's gaze met hers, and for a fleeting second, something unreadable flickered behind his icy blue eyes. Then, a ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. "Perhaps. The Ragnaros family has a way of attracting grand events. Whenever we gather or something else on Magnacarta VII… adventure always follow and invite us to explore new world."
Freya let out a quiet chuckle, but there was a note of excitement beneath it.
Vergil exhaled and looked back out the window. The golden leaves continued to drift from the branches, carried by the wind to unknown destinations. A fitting symbol, he thought, for what lay ahead.
"Mina's decision will be her own," he murmured, half to himself. "Whatever she chooses… we will respect it."
Freya nodded solemnly. "Then we'll wait and see what path she walks."
The carriage rolled to a smooth stop in front of the grand Ragnaros mansion, its towering stone walls standing resolute against the cool autumn breeze. The moment the coachman opened the door, Vergil stepped out, his cloak billowing behind him as he made his way inside without hesitation. Freya followed closely, her golden eyes flickering with curiosity as she sensed a faint tension in Vergil's movements.
As they entered, the distant sound of clashing wooden weapons and swift footfalls echoed through the halls. Following the noise, Vergil descended into the underground training hall, a vast chamber reinforced with stone and lined with racks of weapons. Inside, Mina, Lira, Aria, Elen and Sylvy were engaged in rigorous training under the watchful eye of Aeka.
Mina's focused expression was evident as she sparred with Lira, her movements swift yet precise, dodging and countering each attack with remarkable agility. Aria and Elen, on the other hand, were practicing dagger techniques, their concentration unshaken.
Vergil observed for a moment before speaking. "How's the training?"
Aeka turned her head slightly, her cold yet composed expression meeting Vergil's gaze. "They're improving," she replied. Then, with an almost casual tone, she added, "Did you mean training, or were you referring to my important guest?"
Vergil arched a brow. "So? What was it about?"
Aeka shrugged. "Nothing serious. Just a preliminary meeting to discuss opening another branch of Aeka's Touch in another city."
Vergil gave a slight nod, though his expression darkened slightly as he shifted his focus to Mina. "Aeka, where exactly is this new branch going to be?"
"In the northern region of the Britalienne Empire," she replied, crossing her arms. "A decent distance from here."
Vergil fell silent for a moment before giving a subtle nod. "Good," he said at last. "Gather everyone. I have something important to announce."
Aeka nodded in return, and with a single commanding gesture, she signaled for the training session to pause. Mina and the others immediately halted their movements, standing upright as they caught their breath. Their gazes shifted to Vergil, sensing the weight in his words even before he spoke.
When all eyes were on him, Vergil's voice was calm but firm. "Mina," he began, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers, "it's time for your Rite of Choice."
A hush fell over the room. Mina's face, still flushed from training, paled slightly as she processed his words. "The Rite of Choice?" she echoed. "So soon?"
Vergil crossed his arms. "It was never about 'soon.' It was about when you were ready. And now, you are."
Mina swallowed hard, her hands unconsciously clenching into fists. "I… I don't understand," she admitted. "What does this have to do with me?"
Vergil took a slow step forward, his tone deliberate. "When an Assassin is born, a false self is born alongside them," he said. "A mask that must be worn. A shadow that must be lived. The Rite of Choice is a crucial part of that."
Mina furrowed her brows, still trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. "A false self?" she asked.
Vergil gave a rare smirk, though there was no humor in it. "In other words, you will live as someone else—a life separate from the shadows of the Ragnaros name. The Rite lasts two years. During that time, you will take on a new profession, blending into society with relying on your skills as an assassin and as a doctor."
Mina's heart pounded. "Two years… away from home?"
Vergil nodded. "Yes. This is the first step, and you will be the first among your sisters to undertake it."
Mina's face fell slightly. "And… what happens while I'm gone?"
Vergil's gaze softened just a fraction. "You focus on being that person," he said. "You continue training, using the knowledge that Freya, Aeka, and I have given you. But above all… you live."
Mina's lips parted as if to protest, but she hesitated. After a moment of silence, she asked, "When the two years are over… will I be allowed to return?"
Vergil gave her a firm nod. "Yes. And when you return, I will ask you one simple question: What have you chosen to become?"
Mina lowered her gaze, her thoughts swirling in uncertainty. "…And what am I supposed to do out there?" she whispered.
Vergil placed his hands behind his back. "That depends on you. But I will give you two options."
Mina lifted her head slightly, listening.
"The first," Vergil continued, "is to join the Black Shield Mercenaries. They are a renowned group of warriors, and if you choose this path, you will spend two years as a mercenary, learning to survive through battle, strategy, and war."
Mina's breath hitched. "And the second?"
Vergil exhaled. "The second option is to embrace the medical knowledge you've acquired and serve as a physician in the northern city of the Britalienne Empire. There, you will tend to the sick, heal the wounded, and experience the struggles of an ordinary life. You will see suffering, and you will learn what it means to save lives."
Mina bit her lip, her mind racing. Both paths were daunting. Both paths would change her.
After a long silence, she hesitantly asked, "And when do I have to decide?"
Vergil glanced at Aeka, who spoke up. "Tomorrow morning."
Mina's eyes widened slightly. "That soon?"
Vergil nodded. "I'm leaving tomorrow to meet with the Black Shield Mercenaries. If you choose to walk their path, you will come with me."
Aeka folded her arms. "And I will be traveling to the city of Umbrellis in the north to assess the situation there. If you choose the healer's path, you'll come with me instead."
Mina stood frozen, the weight of the decision settling heavily on her shoulders. She had always trained under Vergil's guidance, always walked in the shadows of her siblings. But now, for the first time, her fate would be her own.
She swallowed hard. "…I need time to think."
Vergil turned, his cloak shifting as he moved toward the door. "Then think quickly," he said without looking back. "By sunrise tomorrow, you must decide."