Thinking back on that interaction last night put my stomach in knots. I forced myself to shovel the lukewarm oatmeal into my mouth as I gazed into the fire. Word had come that some giant clans had started fighting to the west, ice giants, and stone giants. So we were getting buffeted by freezing winds, which had started this morning. I was assured by Marnie that it won’t last more than a month, but by that time it would be the start of fall, and would be getting colder anyhow.

I shoveled another spoon of oatmeal into mouth, chasing it down with some coffee, which Marnie was adept at making. Rogue hated the cold, and was huddled near the fire. He had a near boiling cup of cider in his hands. I was waiting for the blanket wrapped around him to catch fire, but it’s been an hour so I've given up.

It would be another month until things got serious again. I would take the time to practice, and train. I’d make another trip to the cave, and see if I could download some more content. Something on dynamite maybe. I’m sure the kobolds would love that stuff. A train could be fun to experiment with, but that would take many more builders than we had. News didn't travel exactly fast to the common man. And many have lives already. But I didn’t exactly need the common man did I. I drew my cloak around myself, and headed out towards the smith.

Large clouds blocked out the sun, and the cold weather had driven many people indoors. Gatherers took the opportunity to carry large bundles of Dragon eyes in wicker baskets, and wheelbarrows. Delivering them door to door in exchange for a few copper pieces. The cold had reminded everyone to prepare for winter.

“GRED,” I shouted, outside the smith. Like always he sits on the chair with a long pipe in his mouth.

“Yes dragon slayer.”

He says calmly.

“Fantastic you are here. I have a new project something that will shake the foundation of this nation.”

He lets out a breath heavy with smoke.

“You mean like those flamehand whatchamacallits.”

I nod.

“The firearms yes, but this is of a different nature. You see firearms are a tool of war, while this new machine is a tool of culture.”

I rest my hands up on a table covered in nails, and hammers.

“Let me ask you this. How long does it take someone to copy even a single book. A month, two months, longer depending on the text. And any pictures or diagrams could be lost in translation. Now what if we could make a 100 copies of a book in a fraction of that time.”

He peaks an eyebrow at me.

“You see a printing press is a machine with evenly spaced rails on a large flat board. Tiles with different letters are slid onto the rails, to make words, and then brushed with ink. We slide a sheet of paper underneath, and use a crank to press the type. Voila a copy of a page. Then you just do that a hundred, more times and you have a hundred copies of that page. Repeat for every page of the book, and you have 100 copies of a book.”

He scratches his chin. Which makes a rough noise like sandpaper on sandpaper.

“Thats not unlike the golem forges in Gargroth the dwarven capital, we pour molten metal into plaster casts to get lots of fine pieces we would have to smelt otherwise. Similar concept atleast.”

He says.

“Precisely if I drafted up some plans could you work on something like that. You can have it delivered to my new building, just get me a bill and I'll pay you.”

He waves his hand.

“Sure thing."

I pull a sheet of paper out, and use a piece of charcoal to draft the part. It's fairly simple a wooden board for the paper to go on, then the racks for the type, and a hand crank that you spun to lower the type. The brushes and ink were not included because they were not part of the design.

I said farewell to Gred and headed back to the old Inn.

“Good morning Mr. Juniper.”

I wave to the carpenter. He was a human in his early 30’s.

“Morning Milord.”

He smiles from atop his ladder.

“I wouldn’t fault you for staying home with it being this cold.”

I say. He smiles, and pauses from hammering the nails.

“Don’t worry. I’m from the north, the cold reminds me of home. Plus I know what it’s like to have no home during the winter months so if you don't mind I’ll keep working.”

He replies.

“If it doesn’t bother you…”

He nods his head at me. He whistles a jaunty tune to the rhythm of his pounding hammer. He wasn’t creative like Amnello, or flexible with materials like Gred. But he was the hardest worker I’ve ever seen. Sunrise till sunset every day, even during breaks he was doing something. I’d shown a few of the bakers, workers, and Marnie the glory of sandwiches, which were a thing already but much less standardized.

An intrepid baker had even started leaving a row of her oven open, so people could bring sandwiches to heat up, or even have her make them. Chopped up dragon eye marinated in ale for a night, and mixed with chunks of chicken, beef, or pork was extremely popular. And people like Mr. Juniper often carried one in a lunch pouch. Essentially a lunchbox that had insulation properties, and was hung from your belt.

I headed back towards the inn, the rest of the party was probably awake by this time. Anise, and I would go off for our training. Thelia was being weird though. She said she was a diplomat or envoy at least. But not once tried to sit down, and talk to me about diplomacy things.

I walk through the door, Anise is sitting with Wizard, reviewing some magical formulas, transmutation I think. Anise holds up her hand. Five fingers up so five minutes. I head upstairs and grab my staff, I had been ignoring it since the whole greed elemental inside. The interaction last night had shaken me a little, so if I had an OP staff by god I would use it. I also put on an extra pair of socks since my feet were getting kinda cold. I walked back down stairs, and Anise was waiting by the door for me.

She looked curiously at my staff, but didn’t say anything.

“Cleric and I will be back later.”

I tell Wizard. Fighter wasn’t around, and Rogue was still next to the fire. We walked down the street, I pick up two of those sandwiches from the baker, and a farm loaf of bread with butter. We head out of town sharing the warm food between us. A quarter of a mile into the woods Anises undead start to appear. The ravens land on nearby branches, peering down at us. One lets out a strange guttural caw.

We make our way to the thicket we had found. No dragon eyes grew in the area. While the thicket wasn’t very tall a large divot in the ground was in the center of it, a tree had fallen some time ago, and vines had grown over it and the thicket leaned against those. This was where one of the badgers was living, but it suited our purpose just fine. I laid a blanket down, and we finished off the bread.

“Why are you doing this? I've thought about it the whole week. Why are you helping train me?”

I brush some sticks out of the way, and push some detritus out of the entrance.

“Well after your story I would’ve done it because I wanted to do it. But someone very powerful asked me to.”

She sits down cross legged.

“Sure, but you aren’t the ‘out of the goodness’ of your heart type.”

I sit down across from her.

“Am I not? After your story, you are just as fucked up as me. Why wouldn’t I help someone like me?”

She lets out a sigh.

“I don’t understand you.”

Anise calls out, and one of the badgers pops out of a hole with a scroll case in its mouth. It was water proof and kept hidden in a deep part of the burrow. Inside were notes on necromancy. Animals like birds, and mammals seemed to be the easiest to raise right now. The same amount of energy required to raise even a pillbug. We hadn’t even tried to find a magical beast. Owlbears were both well known, and feared. They had an unmistakable roar, or so I’ve heard.

“Why did you bring the staff?”

Anise asks.

“I wanted to try, and use it. So I will try and bond with the item.”

I crossed my legs, before starting my meditation I toss Anise my phone.

“Don’t waste the whole charge.”

I rest the staff over my legs, and close my eyes. I entered the white space easily. I haven't changed much inside. The same ruined manor, although the graphics if you could call them that were more refined. I diversified the grasses, and started individualizing the branches in the hedges. I was about 30 percent finished with those. The stones had a higher resolution now, although you could probably tell they were fake with a high enough power microscope.

I ran my hand over the hedges leaves, they were slightly slick with dew. Like it was morning when this still frame of time was taken. A white figure flashes past the corner of my eye. I snap my head, but she disappears around the bend of one of the hedges. I had made a maze of them, but it was just a geometric pattern to get lost in while I thought. I follow after the figure. Walking past hedge after hedge. Turning corners to merely get a glimpse of a fading dress.

After minutes of chasing I decide I’ve had enough. I will the hedges to chart me a path to the figure. Holes my size open in hedge after hedge. Closing just behind me. I beeline to the figure which is struggling to keep up now. I begin to block off exists as well this is MY mental construct. Walls rise up at intersections blocking off paths for the intruder. Soon they are boxed in, and I burst through the hedge.

At the end of a dead end. A blonde haired girl in a white dress faces the walls around her. She presses a hand up against the hedge, but they are solid. Not the lifelike ones I had meticulously created.

“Who, or What are you?”

I call out. Carefully walking forward. She turns around. She was beautiful, stunning even. Her hair was blonde, but not golden. A darker blonde like wheat. Her skin was tan with freckles dotting along her arms.

“Iz-Izzy?”

I call out, and falter. The construct shudders. Making the hedges seem to wave in an invisible wind.

“Is that what this one is.”

She says in her voice. How long has it been since I heard it?

“Is it really you?”

I take another shaky step, and the hedges shudder once more. She laughs a light tinkling thing. Just like I remember.

“I suppose in a sense I am Izzy. Your memories of her in one condensed form. It was the strongest you had. So I am borrowing your memory of her.”

I falter once more, and the hedges flash white for a moment.

“No I live in the staff, or more like I am the staff.”

Izzy says.

“You have an unnatural fascination with this girl. Bordering on obsession.”

It says, using Izzy's voice.

“Shut the FUCK UP!”

The construct shudders again. The hedges warping, growing brambles.

“You don’t know shit. GET OUT OF HER!”

It shrugs with her body.

“Can’t help you there. You are one making me like this now. Couldn’t change if I tried.”

The thing inside Izzy replies.

“I said change!”

I hiss.

“Is this the reason you want to train Anise so much. Such a sweet girl. You shouldn’t play with her feelings.”

I grind my teeth together.

“She likes you you know, has a crush on you. But you already knew that. An ugly thing like her probably never looked at like an equal when they see what she really looks like.”

The thing steps closer.

“Pity or disgust, pity or disgust. And you come along and accept her how could a girl like that not fall in love. That's the reason you won’t go back yet.”

I shake my head.

“No that's just cruel.”

It takes another step forward.

“Life is cruel. You know this better than anyone. You even carry a lock of her hair in your wallet still.”

It steps forward again.

“No she is in peace I couldn’t do that to her. Or myself I’ve grown.”

The thing stands in front of me. It leans into me pressing her self up against my body.

“Then burn the hair. As a final goodbye.”

I jolt out of sleep learning. Anise shakes my shoulder.

“Come on it's almost night time. We gotta go.”

The staff pulses a faint green, but grows dim. I stand up, and start to roll up the blanket.

“Hey Jonathan.”

Anise says, I pause. Shes bent over holding onto the edge of the blanket. She bites her lip, and her face flushes.

“Never mind.”

We clean up the camp, and the badger returns the scroll case to its location in the burrow. As we walk back to the town I finger my wallet in my pocket. Feeling the rough hairs in between my fingers tied together in the string.

Periodically I check them heading all the way back to town. As if they will somehow disappear. In the tavern I sit facing the fire, holding my wallet in hand the leather is old and creased. I lift the few golden strands in my hand. Holding them close. I gaze into the fire. It would end quickly. The whole thing over in a second.

“Hey Jonathan, come get some stew.”

Anise says. I pull myself out of my trance, and look over at her smiling face. A bit of stew dribbling down her chin.

“Give me a moment.”

I say. With one last look into the fire I tuck the hairs back into my wallet and fold it. Placing it into my pocket. I can almost hear the sound of laughter coming from the staff, a light tinkling thing just like I remember.