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Turning into a hallway of Banland's main dungeon, Ban Hammer listened as the echoes of the prisoners' wails fade away. Without an audience, he could let the grin drop from his face and focus on his last step in his daily routine.
It was nearing the end of the day, which meant he could close up for tonight and prepare for tomorrow, when he had a long morning of hunting down more of those church freaks again.
Arresting more of the cultists meant more interrogating for information on their whereabouts which hopefully actually lead somewhere. He was getting awfully tired of chasing around their asses for the past few years.
Then, with the Church finally gone, he could move his attention to investigating Blackrock. After that was anyone's guess. There'd probably be another group of extremists rising up in due time.
One that he'd have to deal with. Again.
Would there ever be an end to them? Momma told him she'd lived through thousands of uprisings just like the Church's, and thousands of downfalls similar to the Scorch. Was he really supposed to keep at this for the rest of his life? It seemed meaningless, in the end.
I don't want to do this anymore.
The thought comes to him suddenly. Here, in the quiet of the winding halls of the fortress, it was easy for them to surface to the forefront of his mind.
He would be lying if he said it was the first time he had considered it, though.
It had been fun, for the first decade, rounding up the scum of the Inpherno and hanging them in cages. Watching them squirm and beg for their lives as he executed them one by one, their resolves breaking under the immense heat of the lava. The thrill of the chase as he launched himself towards escapees.
From then, it had slowly but surely began to wear off. The prisoners' cries were grating to constantly hear, and the heat became suppressive to even himself. There was no rush in catching criminals anymore, just a small relief that it was over. Executions were just another thing on his to-do list for the day.
He had tried to find some joy out of it, by challenging himself with his blindfold, but even that bored him soon enough.
The truth was, he was entirely discontent with his role as a warden.
Ban Hammer wonders what would happen if he went to his Momma and confided in her. Told her his sole reason for existing was the thing he's come to dread most in the world.
She would laugh, probably. Raucous and bellowing like he's always known it to be. Then, she'd clap her hand around his shoulder, squeezing him tight despite the spiked armor between them, and she'd ask how things were going on in Banlands like he hadn't said anything at all.
Like it was so unbelievable that he could ever want anything else.
He had played that conversation in his head dozens of times, and it turned out the same for each one.
Momma had never been shy about explaining why she had him. She wanted someone like her: a ruthless, independent leader. She created him to be in her image. If he ever deviated from that, there was no doubt in his mind of the disappointment she would show.
So Ban Hammer would suck it up and continue doing what he was quite literally made to do. It was the least he could be for his Momma.
It didn't matter that he was curious to see what the rest of the Inpherno had to offer. It didn't matter that he'd rather befriend than imprison. It didn't matter that he dreamt of a more peaceful life away from the depths of Banlands.
None of it should matter, because it shouldn't be what he wanted in the first place.
Ban Hammer sighed, long and hard, before straightening up and hurrying down the hall.
He has work tomorrow, after all.