Day 21, 10:30 AM

  “Hello, Edna!” I greet the witch as I enter her home, surprising myself with the sincere cheeriness and the fact that I actually missed her. Edna’s inside, cooking, not one whit surprised I barged in. She didn’t even flinch. Meaning, she knew I was coming. The only question is when did she start monitoring me.

  “I come bearing news, most of it useless to you, though.” That catches her attention, and I continue.

  “Do you have any idea why the Guide would address itself as ‘we’?” I sit on the chair and take my time explaining what happened. For the first time since I’ve met the woman, Edna seems stunned.

  “The Guide isn’t supposed to ask questions like that,” she says more for her own sake than mine. “In theory, it might register that someone has died. I can even understand it keeping track of your attributes, since each one requires more life-force drained from the dungeon.”

  Thanks for not telling me that before. I figured it out on my own, but still, you could’ve told me.

  I show no hint of my thoughts as she keeps talking, and asking herself how the automated spell could become curious and ask questions. It seems her mind still hasn’t caught up to the fact that it addressed itself with a pronoun.

  “Are you certain?” she asks after a short soliloquy.

  “Fairly certain.” I mind Blunt, it almost said, ‘I double checked.’

  “Is it possible the archmages had left some imprint of themselves or something?”

  Edna shrugs and sits across from me. “I don’t know. The Guide and dungeons themselves are extremely complex spells, and archmages gave up their lives to cast them, using themselves as the focus. It’s entirely possible something has remained.”

  That’s another detail she failed to mention before. I knew the archmages had died, wiping out an entire social caste, but that they had used themselves as the spell’s focus was new. The question is why. Were they that desperate to eliminate the wormlords, or was there a different reason? Was it a mishap?

  Do you know which combination of attributes creates perception? It’s a stupid question to ask. While it interests me, it’s not vital, and I can tell all my senses have improved as my physique grew. Next I explain about my attempt at cheating the Guide to get both skills at level up, and about my subsequent failure. Except for bumping up my stats, getting some riches, and meeting the kids, the expedition was a failure.

  Then again, I think I failed quite spectacularly, considering everything I got out of the bargain.

  “Well, we wasted three weeks. But that’s fine.” Edna is disappointed, but apparently she expected my failure from the start.

  “I have some questions. What can we do with this sack of minerals? Can you use them, or should I sell them in Tallrock and exchange for more useful resources?”

  Edna pours out the contents of my sack on the table, sorting it into two piles.

  “These are useful.” She points at the smaller one. My appraisal skill tells me the other pile is worth around two hundred and fifty silver.

  “And what do we do with the other one? It’s no small amount of money.”

  “There’s little you can buy with money that you can’t make yourself or forage for in the forest.”

  All right, selling these is not worth the effort. They would look good as sparkly paper weights or something along those lines. More importantly…

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  “I’ve met a talented young woman.”

  “No.” One word ends the discussion, but Edna elaborates after drawing a breath to calm herself. “She is young, meaning naive, almost certainly indoctrinated by the church, and she might betray us if she learns what we are about to do.”

  I’m surprised Edna explained her reasoning to me. That’s a very good sign, and it seems I was wrong about her intentions for me. I keep a healthy dose of skepticism and paranoia, but the woman seems trustworthy.

  “The girl has potential, and her wish is to roam from castle to castle and to be free.” Edna opens her mouth, ready to speak, but I continue. “I’m not trying to argue. I hear you and respect your opinion. You’ve been around here much longer than I have, and just because I’ve spotted someone I would employ doesn’t mean it’s worth a risk.”

  She nods, but I’m still not done.

  “Do you mind telling me what exactly is your goal in life? Because if it’s just extending your lifespan and hiding from the church within the safety of your tiny cottage, death might be preferable.”

  She stares at me with wide eyes, her mouth open a crack.

  “I’m not trying to antagonize you. I’m older than you and let me tell you something. If you lack a goal in your life, any goal, even something as ridiculous as growing the perfect poisonous cabbages in your backyard, your life has little meaning.”

  I smile at her, trying to convey my honesty and good intention. In fact, there’s a simple way to show her.

  “My goal is to meet someone dear to me again, namely my wife, and live happily ever after together with her. To do that, I need to amass enough power in one of my lives to bend the whole world to my will, to rip her out of hell or wherever she is waiting for reincarnation. I’ve never been in a world that has magic, and I hope magic can get me where I want to be.”

  I pause. Saying that, admitting what I just did was difficult, but also therapeutic. I still love Manny. She wanted me to let go, but letting go is for losers. I want to grab her from whatever afterlife she is imprisoned in, and give her everything. Not in the misguided way I had tried before, but to make her the real, immortal empress of the known universe, or maybe we could just wander some scenic countryside without a care in the world. She would’ve liked that more.

  Edna must have sensed my sorrow, or at least the gravity of my feelings. She is silent, but her face twists with rage and hatred. Her blood vessels narrow, and she’s white like a banshee.

  “I want vengeance.” She breaks the silence. “What I want is to topple the church and this aberrant social order, which has destroyed the world I lived in.”

  My smile disappears. The situation isn’t one for fake, reassuring smiles.

  “Edna,” I start gravely, “I believe in vengeance being important. If someone hurts me or mine, I will hurt them back. In fact, I will kill them. But revenge is a losing proposal when you are the weaker party. Doing minor damage and losing your life in the process is dumb beyond words.”

  Trust me, I’ve been there already.

  “So, what you need to do is amass enough power to see it through. Do you have the resources to pull it off? Allies, underlings? What will happen after you shatter the society as it is now? Can you handle the fallout? Can you take care of the innocents left defenseless after your actions? Do you know how to restore the society to where you want it to be? Can your conscience handle the collateral damage?”

  She is staring at me blankly. I understand where she’s coming from. Her desire is but a fancy, a deranged thought she goes to sleep with, dreaming of the glory she once enjoyed, a thirst for power she never had.

  “I was a king, Edna. I conquered an entire continent. Killing people is merely the start of a very long process. It’s meant as a tool to achieve an end, not an end itself.” I pause to let the words sink in before I continue, my words flowing much slower. “If it’s the other way round, Edna, then you are a monster.”

  I look into her brilliant eyes and smile. “I don’t think you’re a monster. In fact, I think you’re a good person. You’re trapped with no way out, the clock ticking away. Let’s start by making you the most powerful archmage ever. Once you achieve that, you can pick your own path. A paltry organization of non-mages won’t be able to stand up to you, should you still feel like destroying them after reaching that point. What do you say?”

  She’s uncertain, tempted, confused, afraid. She’s been stuck in a rut for decades, hiding away in a dingy little cabin. Then, a step before accepting her own weakness, she flares with the most human reaction when one is faced with their own helplessness; anger.

  “Who do you think you are?” Her chair squeals against the floor as she rises and points a finger at me. “What knowledge do you think you have to make such claims? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to become a mage, and an archmage is an esteemed profession lost for centuries!”

  I remain calm. Her reaction, while disappointing, is predictable. I put my hand on hers and cover the accusing finger, but she snatches her hand away.

  “No, Edna, I know none of that,” I admit calmly, leaning back in my chair. “But I have an advantage over many generations of your people. I will have your help, and you will have mine. Together, I believe we can figure things out. We will become archmages.”