“But why aren't you – a demon? This is a planet of demons – and you're clearly not. Even more than me. Where did you come from. Actually – who are you -”

“The Golden Bow -”

“Just another title -”

“Not technically a title but –”

“Who? – Are you?”

He stopped. And he sighed. And he looked around.

“You're interested how I got here? Who I am? Why I'm not a demon? And why I know the things that... I know? Not just concerning this place and others; this is the general schema we're operating within?”

The basics. “Who?”

“I can see you'd like to know.” He stopped again, but it was a pause that was preparatory – he thought he might actually tell him who he was.

“The Golden Bow –”

“Who -”

“Yes, let me – I'm the Golden Bow – I'm – well this is exactly what I wish to tell you; what I was trying to; you see – you're rather larger than me, but that's momentarily unimportant – what I'm trying to communicate to you is that – where we are – I'm afraid, why, or for what final or ultimate, reason, or even – how. – I can't help you, but we are here for that. We're here, I'm afraid, on this planet of demons, to, as you describe it – because yes, it's a planet of demons; but it's actually not for that... this place is for finding out exactly who you are so you can understand why – and this is why I'm not immediately answering you're question why despite my retaining the aforementioned personal emphasis upon courtesy, especially here – of remaining a being/personage/person/character/person/human being of course who prizes this above nearly all other virtues – despite that, which I am saying, and saying nothing in regards to the finality of your question over here, I can't, on this planet whose purpose is to find out who you are because its inevitable/unavoidable ontological purpose, in itself and of course, prevents this for all of the unfortunates – who aren't demons, of course, demons can speak for themselves – if they have tongues at all or they haven't degenerated into degeneracy sufficiently to still be capable of telepathic communication beside just projecting nasty atmospheres and malaise; what I'm saying, and I'm sorry, Your Good Majesty in Corridors – but you see there is no alternative, and the whole planet, but specifically these demon dungeons, these mazey kingdoms of Cyclops, these things, this is exactly what this place is about and for – it's for finding out who you are, old chum – that's exactly and unavoidably what it's for – it's ontology – because despite – teleology – harbouring a quasi-title, I don't. know. either.”

“Who you are?”

“I don't know either – you see that dungeon – it's who you are, it's who we both – are – and it's, I'm afraid, where we're going.”