Dead.

The word rings hollow in Garrot's entire body. The Protector does this every year, ensures the continuation of the planet by killing her every year, and he's so nonchalant about this?! Garrot's eyes go wide as he realizes he and Luka may be the only people to know about this- luck would have it that the Princess's Knight doesn't even know. But everyone should know, and yet-

"She's dead." He exhales deeply, moving to take a seat at the table. The crossbow doesn't matter, as awesome as he'd think it is in any other circumstance; the crossbow isn't the Wizard. "That piece of shit didn't die until after Twelve any other year. So what makes this time different?" There's an undeniably tension in Garrot's jaw and shoulders as he forces himself to get comfortable. Comfort is difficult when you're forcing yourself to be respectful in the presence of a personal idol while also learning that the mastermind behind your father's murder was unceremoniously murdered herself.

"Is it because you're here? You know, physically?"