In the end Isse got lost.

  It wasn’t surprising, really: she didn’t know the new layout of the castle and had no idea where she was going, and it turns out that the trick of ‘always take a left turn’ only worked for labyrinths, whereas in a castle built by someone relatively sane it only managed to make you go in circles.

  Of course she wasn’t really lost, not completely at least: there were windows in most of the corridors she wandered through, which meant that, at any moment, she could’ve just walked out of one and climbed back up to her room. So far she had found a lot of bedrooms, broom closets, a stairway that led down and down and down into impenetrable darkness, more broom closets, what she was pretty certain was meant to be an office but looked more like a museum for bladed weapons of all kinds, a library that she was pretty certain had to be contained inside one of the five towers because there was no way it could otherwise be so big, even more broom closets – Archie must’ve really worried about where the [Maids] would keep the cleaning supplies – and a few other strange rooms which function she hadn’t managed to decipher.

  And still, no kitchen.

  “This is just evil,” she told aloud, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a single, long, sigh.

  “Meh, you get used to it,” said someone to her side.

  “Really?” she asked the mysterious voice, for some reason finding it completely normal and not frightening at all that someone had managed to sneak up on both her and Siidi.

  “Yeah. I still remember my first day here: I left my room and, after a while, had to go to the toilet, but I couldn’t for the love of me find a single one. In the end I threw myself out of a window and did my business behind a tree in Nivera’s garden.”

  She snorted at that, while in her mind she was trying to understand just why she didn’t find the appearance of this stranger at all threatening. She knew for certain that, normally, she would’ve gone for an attack.

  “Hey, what are you doing to me?” she asked, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

  For some reason she couldn’t even make herself turn around to look at the source of the voice and, she also realized, she couldn’t tell whether it was male or female.

  “Hmm? What do you mean?” it asked, curiosity trickling from every word. She could nearly imagine the thing’s featureless head tilting to the side.

  “I can’t feel your presence, I can’t turn around to look at you, even your voice is somehow camouflaged.”

  “What… oh fuck! Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to do this, I’m really sorry. It’s my Aura, I tend to forget about it because people who know me are unaffected. Just give me a moment!”

  As he said that, suddenly, she felt like an invisible blanket she hadn’t noticed had been there had just been removed from her head. Everything seemed somehow clearer, her breathing came easier and the world seemed filled with scents she hadn’t noticed had disappeared up until now.

  Finally, she turned around, looking at the cause of this strange and surreal experience.

  He was… unassuming was the best way she could use to describe him. Or maybe saying that he ‘fit’ where he was standing would’ve been better. His face wasn’t memorable, with dull brown eyes, a small nose, thin lips that were nearly indistinguishable from the rest of his face, all of this crowned by short, straight brown hair. He could’ve easily disappeared in a crowd, becoming one with the flow of people. In a word, he was meaningless, but, somehow, in a… purposeful way?

  The only thing that stood out about him was the amount of pockets in his otherwise nondescript black trousers, while above he wore a white button up shirt with two more pockets on each breast completing his look.

  “Well, as far as first impressions go, that could’ve gone better,” he said, a slight smile worming its way on his face, communicating both guilt and no little amusement. Not that it would’ve been easy to understand: he was clearly trying to hide his emotions behind a facade of meaningless repetitive words; the only reason why she could even see them was thanks to her Skill and her training as a [Spy].

  “Yeah, well, I’ve had worse,” she said, thinking about how her relationship with Siidi had started.

  Hey! You would’ve done the same in my place.

  I don’t really want to think about it, what happened to us wasn’t exactly… typical.

  “Yes, I can imagine that, what with you being an arachne and all,” there was no judgement in his voice. Another person who treated her… normally.

  “By the way, where are my manners? The name’s Fred. Just Fred. I’m the [Minister]. Actual Class too, unlike the others.”

  “...What?”

  “Technically speaking we’ve got a lot of [Ministers]. Archie’s supposed to be the Minister of Infrastructure, Nivera’s the Minister of Agriculture, Tiana is the Minister of War. Problem is, they’re just titles – and not even ones recognized by the System at that – they never got the Classes since they never wanted them. They just do their job and that’s it.”

  “So, what sort of minister are you?”

  “The [Minister].”

  “Yes, but of what?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m the [Minister], it’s my job to… minister things.”

  “That’s not a word.”

  “Well, as a [Minister] I have the power to say that it is.”

  “...Oh, I get it, you’re the funny one. Archie’s the grumpy one, Nivera’s the ditz, Tiana is the crazy one, Henricks is the mysterious one and the king… we’ll see. I imagine he’s the wise type seeing how he’s the king and everything.”

  Fred smiled at that, a genuine gesture that managed to pass his carefully controlled expression. He was emanating amusement and it was a bit disquieting with how neutral he looked otherwise.

  “Hmmm, let me give you a tip young lady: this is the Kingdom of Occultism. It is a place of mystery and strangeness, where the lost and the outcasts find a home and like minds, where strange paths to power are explored and peace is found for the weary souls. In short, don’t judge the many books of this grand library by the cover, it’s a mistake that has caused the downfall of many of our enemies.”

  He can’t do that! He’s supposed to be the serious-funny guy stereotype, he can’t suddenly become ‘the sage’. That’s against the rules! shouted Siidi in fake outrage.

  She agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Alright then mister [Minister]. I guess I don’t need to present myself, am I right?”

  “Issekina of Clan Silksoul, plus a guest, arachne, apprentice of a [Spymaster] of the Greatest Game, [Mage] of some sort, don’t ask me which one I’m useless when it comes to magic. I’ve got an idea of what you are, yes, but not of who you are. That’s going to take more time.”

  In truth she had stopped listening the moment he’d mentioned the part about her having ‘a guest’. Could he possibly…?

  “Guest?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, there’s something more to you. Among the things I have to do as a [Minister], the most important of them all is understanding people, learning to know them, their habits, the ways they think and act. I’ve got a few Skills that help with that. And right now they’re quite literally shouting at me that it’s not just you and me talking in here. Haaa, you [Spies] are the worst, always with tricks up your sleeves, although in your case I don’t understand what those might be. You were brought here to get help, to find peace of a kind, and you don’t seem the type to betray us, so what I’m feeling is probably not a communication Spell that leads to someone outside the city.

  “I have no idea what it is, so I’m just labeling that second presence as a ‘guest’ and hoping that I won’t regret not digging into it more.”

  Isse’s heartbeat began to slow down at that, her pupils slowly dilating from the pinpricks they had become.

  “That’s going to be a poorly kept secret, Issekina. All the people that matter… more than the others, in this castle, have ways to tell what I did, they’re just more polite than me. Except for Archie: he’s just a spinach headed idiot who snores loudly and eats things that horrify the [Chefs].”

  She latched onto that last part nearly desperately, wanting to steer the conversation away from the fact that he’d felt the presence of her soul-half. In many ways it didn’t make sense for her to keep the secret: it’s not like Siidi was some kind of evil mastermind –

  I interject! I’m plenty evil and plenty masterminded.

  – she was an objectively good person –

  Well now, let’s not exaggerate. I’m good for and with you.

  – but at the same time… having her as a hidden ally seemed like the best thing. Because… what if everything went wrong? What if she had to escape again and the enemy somehow knew about Siidi, creating countermeasures against her?

  She was being paranoid, she knew it, and yet… was it truly paranoia now? After all her escapes, after all her suffering.

  No, it was better to try and keep it all secret.

  So she changed the subject: “Yeah, I met him yesterday in the kitchen. He was eating a sandwich with broccoli.”

  Fred made a face at that, disgust painting his features: “Stars and devils, he’s worse than a pregnant woman with cravings.”

  Isse felt her throat contract at that, a powerful snort escaping her nose without her saying so.

  “Speaking of, you want a snack? It’s way past lunch but the [Chefs] should already be working on the dinner and if I’m there they won’t be against making us something on the fly.”

  “About that: why does the kitchen not have a window? It would make everything so much easier for me to get there.”

  “Oh, that’s Nivera’s fault. We had a window in there, but she kept using it to steal snacks, so we had to wall it up.”

  “What? You don’t have the money to spend on some extra food?”

  He snorted, a smile creeping on his lips: “What? No! It’s just bad for her. Niv gets bloated if she eats too much and afterwards she hibernates. We lost her for three months the last time because of her excessive snacking. The parents were amused, but not very happy that the only kindergartener of the city had decided to take a nap for all of winter.”

  Ah. Well… that felt like something the plant woman would’ve done.

  “It’s your fault for not thinking about a contingency plan!”

  “I mean, on the one hand, you’re not wrong, on the other, none of us were politicians at the time – still aren’t for the matter – or knew how Niv worked – still don’t by the way.”

  “Does she even have a stomach to eat now that I think about it? She’s made of plantstuff after all.”

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  Fred shook his head: “Wondering about that woman’s biology is a surefire way to walk the road of insanity. Whatever happened to her that allowed her to think also… changed her in ways we don’t quite understand. And, truth be told, we don’t even need to. She’s our friend and companion, and a good [Carer], and that is all that matters.

  “Now, if you want to get something in that stomach of yours, wherever that may be in your body, follow me, and I’ll tell you a few tricks to orient yourself better in this castle.”

  So it was that she followed Fred, listening as he told her about this particular decoration on a wall that meant she was close to the library, or that particular window with a slightly askew windowsill, and so on and so forth. There were so many little things in the castle, tells and secret errors that spoke of years of hard work and love, memories and emotions infused in every brick, every wooden beam, every door and every tile, it was as if it was all… alive and joyous about it.

  For his part Fred, the [Minister of Life], smiled at the lost girl that had found her way into their life. He could already tell that she was going to be a lot of trouble. Good trouble, at least.

  This castle really needed a bit more life in it.

  I’m still not sure how he managed to convince me to come to this dinner, thought Isse.

  He said there would be lots of good food. Especially meat since you were going to be there.

  It scares me how certain he was that we’d show up.

  He’s a politician Isse, they’re good at predicting and manipulating people.

  You sure we’re thinking about the same politicians?

  Nah, I’m talking about the ones in this world. Your world’s politics is just a lot of dudes and lasses playing at who’s got the biggest dick. They wouldn’t last five minutes in a debate against a [King] from here.

  She let her darkest impulses win over and imagined a group of pantsless politicians from her time showing off the size of their genitals, while the women wore big strap ons to join in. Siidi choked on nothing in the back of her mind and began cackling madly, soon followed by Isse.

  Nivera, who was walking beside them on the forest – garden, it was a garden, no matter how big it was – floor, looked at them with an amused smile, raising an eyebrow questioningly but not saying a single word.

  Interacting with her was so strange now: she’d gotten used to talking to her more… ditzy persona. Speaking with her normal self, without her mind being ‘stupidified’ by literally dividing her brain in half was an experience. She talked like a well learned woman, her voice low and controlled, her smiles small but heartfelt, the motherly warmth she’d radiated even in the version of her she’d known at first increased even further. She looked and felt like… like Makira, in a way. A kinder, less broken, Makira, who didn’t feel the need to hide the scars and still weeping wounds behind all her smiles. Not that Nivera felt scarred.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing, just… had a funny thought. Very stupid.”

  “Stupid thoughts aren’t stupid if they’re funny. Nothing that can bring a genuine smile is stupid.”

  “What if someone smiles because they killed someone else?”

  “Killing isn’t stupid. It’s cruel.”

  She wasn’t so certain: Albert had always said that war was the stupidest thing in the world exactly because it involved a lot of senseless killing. She told this to the alraune and the woman shrugged: “You’ll seldom find people who find the prospect of death so pleasant, especially among people who’ve been through a war already. Some will find it necessary, maybe, but pleasant, funny even? If so, either you’ve been touched by Blood, or you will be.”

  Yep, strange! The way she spoke, the calm aura that surrounded her, it was as if she was talking to someone else entirely.

  “I know what you’re thinking dearie: I’m strange. A completely different person from who you thought I was.”

  Isse shrugged: “I mean, can you blame me? The first time I met you I apparently went berserker and tried to do something bad to you, and I can’t even remember what it was, while the second – arguably first at this point – time we interacted you were this ditzy woman with hearts for eyes. And now you seem so much more mature and… as you said, it’s kind of strange.”

  She chuckled, a low, gentle, sound that flowed out of her like honey being drizzled into warm milk, a soothing melody played in piano and violin that promised all would be well and all manner of things would be well.

  “Well, it is the spirit of this Kingdom after all: it feels appropriate that things here are strange.”

  Then, finally, they reached the end of the garden, the trees suddenly stopping and letting them see the wall ahead. Or rather, where she expected the wall should’ve been. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of a small, cozy, dining room. Four columns that were clearly merely decorative, with stony vines that crawled all over them, supported a small fronton filled with sculptures of flying crows, all pointing towards… was that a wreck of a ship? Yup, it was indeed. A rather peculiar choice of subject but, so far, it didn’t even come close to being the strangest thing she’d seen.

  Beyond the columns was a cozy little room, with a big, yet simple, wooden table in the middle set for seven people.

  One of the seats, the one to the right of the one at the head of the table, was already occupied.

  The two women walked into the charming space, Isse taking her time to admire it from every angle, before she let her gaze settle on the only other person in the room. The man had dark black hair, which he had cut short. His eyes were a warm blue that made her think of the depths of the ocean. He wore simple clothes: a button-up shirt that, once upon a time, must’ve been black, but was now more dark gray, and comfortable looking white pants.

  But the most striking feature about him were his hands: they were scarred beyond belief, as if someone had taken a knife to them with glee before ripping the skin off for good measure. While the rest of his skin looked slightly tanned, the hands were nearly as white as the snow outside.

  Deciding that she didn’t care for social norms, she stared at them intensely, as if by looking at them the man would suddenly act up a little puppet show with them and tell her the tale of why his appendages were in such a sorry state.

  “Good evening, my dear ladies. Nivera, how does your garden grow?”

  The plant woman bowed her head slightly in greeting as she answered: “It is at peace, my friend.”

  Isse stared at the two, completely flabbergasted by how alien this simple greeting had been.

  As if reading her mind, Nivera explained: “It was a greeting among the people of my teacher. A people who no longer exist, sadly.”

  The arachne couldn’t contain herself as she bitterly said: “What, were they all killed? Sounds like a habit in this world.”

  She shook her head no, her expression turning far away as she seemingly allowed herself to fall into distant memories: “No. The sands of time buried them, simple as that. Their death was silent, or so my teacher always liked to say. It was inevitable.”

  Silence fell on the small room like a wet blanket, locking them in place, the wetness soaking into their bones – or bone equivalent – and filling them with unease.

  That is, until the man at the table clapped his hands, the sound breaking the spell: “Well now, let us not reminisce of sad things. Tonight is a night of celebration, after all! We have someone new joining our ranks!”

  With a grand gesture made only slightly sillier by him still sitting in the most ungentlemanly way imaginable on his chair, the man pointed at Isse, bowing his head deeply: “I welcome you, Issekina Silksoul, to the Kingdom of Occultism.”

  She couldn’t contain herself, raising an eyebrow, as she countered: “[General] Tiana already beat you to the punch mister.”

  “Really? She betrayed me like that? Oh, my poor little heart,” he put a hand to his chest, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water and acting as if he was having a heart attack, “She always hurts me so, that differently tall woman.”

  “Differently tall?” she asked.

  "Textual words I’m afraid,” said a new voice. Turning towards its source she saw Archie walking in through an opening in the wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. As he stepped inside it closed on silent hinges. A secret passage, really?

  Oh my Stars I need to visit them!

  Didn’t you get enough of those in [Lady] Serafia’s mansion?

  Isse, my dear, my sister, my eternal soul half ‘till Death do us apart, there can never be too many secret passages in a person’s life.

  “The last person who described her with something that came close to the word ‘small’ was never found again,” continued the goblin as he took his place on the left of the head of the table.

  A moment later she felt someone else approach and, turning around, she saw the reason she was here to begin with: Fred.

  “She can be quite bloodthirsty, our disgraced [Archer],” he nodded a greeting towards her as he passed by, going to sit beside Archie, who immediately glared up at him, although without any real heat behind the gesture.

  Nivera chuckled at that, going to sit beside the man whose name she still didn’t know: “I wasn’t expecting someone to beat me in terms of blood thirst.”

  “Vampiric plants like you don’t count for such things Niv,” said the man beside her.

  “Aww, and here I was, hoping to beat the lot of you at one more thing.”

  “Still can’t beat me at Adventurer’s Journey.”

  At that the alraune pouted: “For someone who never played anything you took to that game like a shroom to wet mulch.”

  “I had a great teacher.”

  “Who’s talking about me?!” shouted a familiar, boisterous, voice from somewhere behind and upwards of her.

  A moment later Tiana dropped onto the grass, wearing civilian clothing and carrying a much smaller bow. Her usual smile stretched even further on her face the moment she caught sight of Isse. She jumped up, probably to go for some sort of tackle hug, but was grabbed mid air by the second to last member of this ragtag group: Mr Henricks.

  The [Cleaner] had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, one arm calmly resting behind his back, the other raised to grab the little woman who, Isse decided, made her think of a chihuahua. The half-elf raised her fists like the tiniest boxer in the world and attempted to hit the man in the face, with little success seeing how long his arms were.

  Henricks, for his part, simply looked at her with a raised eyebrow that expressed so much judgement that Tiana’s cheeks reddened slightly. He then proceeded to carry her towards the free spot by Fred’s side, giving Isse what she thought was an apologetic look as he passed by her.

  And all the while the others bickered among themselves, filling the room with chatter and chuckles or outright laughs and making it look for all the world like she wasn’t standing in the same room as – as Fred had told her – the people who ruled this entire country.

  Finally, Henricks moved towards the last man, his fist rising towards his mouth as he coughed politely: “That would be my spot.”

  His words managed to attract the strange man’s attention, who sighed as he started to rise: “Seriously, Henricks? For once you could take the head seat: your chair’s so much more comfortable.”

  “They are all the same chairs.”

  “Nah, yours is more comfortable, I’m sure! I bet it’s some secret Skill of yours.”

  The [Cleaner] shrugged, revealing nothing.

  As he finally took his place, the man with no name so far smiled one last time at her, clapping his hands, causing everyone at the table to fall silent.

  The sudden absence of noise felt jarring: it reminded her of the lack of sounds in Grandmother’s clearing, and she straightened her spine slightly as the memory and the moment became one, half expecting her Elder to poke her head into the room and tell her off for slouching.

  Then, finally, he spoke: “Welcome, Issekina Silksoul. I’m Ravenspoken and, well, you’ve met the others, one way or another. I’m the [King] around here.”

  He said it with such nonchalance, as if the Class, the title behind it, the meaning and the power put in those four, simple, letters, was completely meaningless.

  And, she realized, to him, that was just it. [King] was a Class, with Skills and advantages and everything, but in the end, it didn’t mean anything. He had gained the title through the sweat of his brow and the keenness of his mind. Not through blood, not through conquest.

  And because of that his title gave him more power, his Class more solid, more anchored into the depths of his soul, all the more empowered by the way he… didn’t take himself seriously? That’s the read she had gotten from him so far and… she had to admit, it didn’t sound half bad.

  “I’m also one of the last [Storytellers] left in the world and, maybe, most important of all, one of the last people to know the tales of the arachne. Their actions, both kind and unkind – mostly unkind, but what choice did you have?”

  He gestured towards the last empty seat at the table: “I welcome you among my own, Issekina. To repay a kindness to an old man who saved my life and helped give it meaning, and to help one of the last of her kind.”

  She looked at him.

  Uncertainty boiled in the depths of her belly, mixing with a tinge of desperation and hopelessness, all of it inside a pot brought to a simmer by the flames of her past experience.

  The doubt was a known one: can I? Or rather, better even: should I?

  Could she allow herself to sit… not on that chair, it was too small for her, but you get the gist of it. Could she let herself do it? Would it doom the people in this room?

  And, worst of all: could she allow herself to relax, to feel at peace? These people had spent the last few days trying to subtly help her, trying to make her feel at home, safe, protected. But… what if they failed at some point? What if she was forced to escape? She was quite sure that her heart and mind wouldn’t take that well, especially now that she wouldn’t be the only arachne.

  Coul –

  Isse.

  Siidi’s voice stopped her racing thoughts in their tracks, her calm tone soothing her soul.

  Sit down. You have earned this much. We’ll take things as they come, overthinking will just hurt you.

  But –

  No buts. Isse, please, trust the woman who comes from another time: thinking in ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ will not help you. It’ll only damage you, until you’ll be unable to do anything for fear that it could hurt you further. If you care about yourself even a bit, and if you care for our children to be, please, sit down, relax, tell them the story of what happened to you, cry if you feel the need to, and then start anew. We’ve always been good at that, at least.

  The words bounced around in her mind – literally, she could feel little ‘boing boing boing’ sounds – as she internalized them.

  Thank you, Siidi.

  Always.

  She sat down.

  And the first plate for the evening was brought in.