Least bad choice

Nel walked home from the Adventurer's Guild in the late morning after the night of Illegrenias’ attack on the Adventurer’s Guild, covered in blood that was not her own.
 
She had helped her friends to the temple for healing and then returned with the team of healers and her cart — first to rush survivors to Lorelei’s hospital wing of the temple, then return trips, over and over and over again—bringing the dead to the temple so that any who could be resurrected would be.
 
She had taken any diamonds Illegrenias had left behind for the resurrections. She had already poured out the resources of the Adventurer’s Guild to protect lives. In for a copper, in a for gold, she supposed.
 
She had never before missed growing physically tired, but tonight she realized the enormity of that loss. The healers and others helping move body after body — some of them people she had known and liked — eventually grew tired and needed to stop. But her undead body did not grow weary liked it once did when she was living. Her mind, heart, and soul, on the other hand, felt worn down by the enormity of the grief and horror. She had kept going, pushing the pain and guilt into that box deep inside of her she had used so much in Ruskovich, in the pits, and in prison, letting herself focus numbly on the task at hand.
 
But now, heading home, the emotions and thoughts began to escape. They had succeeded in stopping the slaughter — but they had failed at preventing it. Surely there must have been something they could have done, some bargain they could have struck, that would have prevented the enraged ancient lich king from tearing through the Adventurer’s Guild — that place where she was not just a criminal, but a sometimes hero. The place where Griselda had not thrown her away when she had shown her true colors, but instead trusted her to learn and do better. The place she had met so many people who had become so dear.
 
She prayed the guild would understand the bargain she had made—all the gold and gems in the vault that Illegrenias desired as weregild for his wife and the promise that the guild would not retaliate in exchange for him agreeing to be satisfied with his vengeance and not killing anyone else in Novandria. The contents of the vault had not been hers to give and the promise to part ways peacefully had not been something she had the authority to make on behalf of the guild. But nobody with that authority had been there to do it. And Illegrenias did her the courtesy of listening to her because she had died saving him in Kemet.
 
She could not think of a better solution. If they fought him, he might have killed them then continued his rampage through the guild, killing more and then going after the others who were away on guild business. If they had won, it might have been even worse—a more deeply enraged immortal king returning with an army to wipe out the guild and more.
 
She was amazed that he had listened. And she prayed that she could keep her word. If the guild attacked Illegrenias then death would be the best case scenario for her. She shuddered at the thought of him going after her loved ones to visit the pain he felt on her. Or the thought of him handing her back over to the Cult of Orcus to control her in her undeath once more.
 
She winced as the sun broke through the clouds and shined down on her as she neared her home, but breathed a sigh of relief that the children would be at school and Bogdan at the market with Msr. Boucle. They would not see her blood-soaked fur and clothes and be frightened. If Fix was home she’d understand, and she could bathe and wash her clothes before the rest returned.