Night falls over Deshawn City and Mandor, sword master of the Order of Impartial Justice, chugs contentedly away at a pint of ale. Its a relief to be able take a break from his duties at the Order headquarters at Temple, even if its at a rundown, deserted tavern. The barkeep taps the counter, indicating that its time for Mandor to leave so that he can close up.

"I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have had bad dreams." the barkeep before Mandor suddenly sing songs for no reason.

"The dream still continues." Mandor raises an eyebrow, "Isn't that the most important thing?"

"For you perhaps." the barkeep shrugs, "After all, everyone in this world is merely a figment of my imagination."

"Not 'your' imagination." Mandor scoffs, "The dream was dictated by Ea to you. So that makes us part of Ea's imagination."

"Touché." the barkeep allows himself a wink of the eye.

"Sage." Mandor bows his head respectfully, "How may I be of service?"

"I need your opinion on something." the Sage begins with his usual inflectionless voice, "I have sent Mac Nair to find Sylvia."

"Finally, like I said before, trusting Sylvia was a mistake." Mandor's expression becomes severe, "She's being possessed by one of Pahlaver's angels. That was always going to be trouble, no matter whatever else Sylvia brought to the table."

"Collaborating with a sympathetic angel was a necessity." the Sage insists, "The fate of the original Dasar patriarch has amply proved that."

"Yes." Mandor sighs, "Time isn't supposed to move forward unless certain critical events occur. Were we wrong about that?"

"No. I don't think so." the Sage responds as he begins locking up the bar, "Rather, I believe what happened to be caused by Ea's own vigilance. Remember, time always moves in heaven, regardless of what occurs here."

"Its year 950 now." Mandor scratches his cheek, "Just like it was year 950 a hundred years ago. The numbers on a calendar may change, but the year itself doesn't."

"A good year for ale." the Sage nods, "Even if the bartender here waters it down. Year 950 had a long spring. So that means a hundred long springs, for a century of drinking."

"Only reason why I keep coming back to this tavern." Mandor grunts, "That and I don't mind the barkeep watering down the ale. I've got a sensitive stomach."

"And we have the Order to thank for that." the Sage makes a slight bow, "Time can only progress beyond year 950 after the first demon king invasion."

"We've been manipulating the Beyond." Mandor smirks before being shaken to the core, "That demon invasion isn't happening - oh no."

"Now you understand." the Sage bites his lips, "The same year has repeated a hundred times already. And Ea already knows the first demon king invasion has been delayed. After all, this is a dream that I've been forced to dream for the twenty first time."

"Twenty one cycles." Mandor bunches his fists up in fury, "And we've only managed to know of the twentieth one thanks to the power of Hackal preventing the dream from ending."

"Yes." the Sage sighs, a look of real sorrow crossing his face, "Time always reverts to year 950 once the demon king is defeated, wiping the slate clean. And the world only remembers the last cycle because I remember it. I've been deliberately using the remnants of the last cycle to anchor the current dream."

"How is it like?" Mandor asks out of the blue, "When the dream ends? Do you suddenly wake up?"

"I don't know." the Sage says with some reluctance, "I don't remember any cycles before the twentieth one. That is as far as the memory of my entire life stretches."

Mandor sips the last of his ale meditatively, chewing over this piece of information.

"It is similar to how you don't remember much of your time when you were still called Richard Novak -" the Sage continues but Mandor cuts him off with surprising heat.

"Don't say that name." Mandor whispers, his eyes tightly shut, "Please."

"Ah. I have caused offence." the Sage answers flatly, "Apologies."

"I don't want to be reminded of those days." Mandor leans against the bar's counter tiredly, "My slave name. The one Pahlaver's angel gave me when we merged."

"You were meant to be one of the heroes in the twenty first cycle." the Sage remarks, "Though the appearance of the Farmer changed all that."

"Pahlaver's angel abandoned me when he couldn't beat the Farmer. Can you imagine that?" Mandor laughs bitterly, "What type of hero would Richard Novak have made?"

"And you couldn't remember any of your time while under the influence of Pahlaver." the Sage tastefully avoids the question.

"That's not true, well not precisely." Mandor licks his lips as he fills up his flagon from the tavern's stock, grateful to turn the conversation away from such a sore topic, "Remember when you first met me?"

"You were crying by yourself in Southmarsh." the Sage recalls, "The Farmer had killed you and massacred your entire party. After several resurrections Pahlaver's angel simply gave up and left you by the side of the road."

"I wasn't crying because of the abandonment." Mandor explains with some difficulty, "It was more like how a baby cries when it takes its first breath?"

"No wonder I had to teach you how to clean yourself up and even talk. It took months before we were ready to bring the fight to the Farmer." the Sage muses, "At the time I thought you had suffered a mental breakdown, but that was not what happened, was it not?"

"Uh, you had to teach me because I had no idea how to talk." Mandor squirms with embarrassment, "It was as if my mind was an empty box after the angel left. I didn't want to explain it back then because this matter's obviously not easy to discuss."

"I wonder ..." the Sage murmurs, growing increasingly agitated, "Was it the same for me?"

"Not a lapse of memory, but a death of the mind." the Sage begins to twitch as his tension builds, "The same way Richard Novak died when Pahlaver's angel abandoned him."

Mandor almost interrupts with another objection about using that slave name, but stops himself just in time. The Sage was clearly grappling with a crisis of his own.

"Nineteen deaths. I might have died nineteen times already." the Sage suddenly grips Mandor's shoulders with surprising strength, "What were the previous 'mes' like? How long did Ea intend for this farce to continue?"

Mandor mutely shakes his head, shocked by the Sage's sudden loss of composure. This was the most emotion the Sage had displayed in a long time.

"Apologies." the Sage finally mutters softly, "That was out of hand."

"Its fine." Mandor quickly reassures, "But you understand my point, yes? We cannot trust any of the angels. They see us as little more than toys."

"The original Dasar patriarch wasn't meant to die until year 960." the Sage takes a calming breath, "Despite this, he suddenly disappeared without warning sometime back."

"So he couldn't have died. It would not be possible if the dream is following its original course." Mandor reasons, "The original patriarch would only be at most a year old, ever since being reborn in the twenty first cycle."

"I think he was patched out by Ea." the Sage shudders slightly, "Its the only conclusion I can arrive at."

"Patched?" Mandor responds in confusion.

"Something I learned about when looking through Hackal's Rift." the Sage goes back to his usual monotone, "Minor amendments made to the dream by Ea. It is also the reason why I asked you to interfere with Mills' family affairs at the Robeur Keep."

"Ea's trying to force time to move forward again ..." Mandor sucks his breath in, voice trailing off.

"The world has been generating a false history to obfuscate the fact that it has been the same year repeating." the Sage drums his fingers on the counter, "We were too confident though. An outside observer like Ea would have realized something was wrong sooner or later."

"How would raising the Mage up start time moving again though?" Mandor objects.

"It is not just the Mage." the Sage answers grimly, "Ea has brought the Mage and the Healer together already. The aim is most likely to prime the hero's party."

"Because once the hero's party is formed, the quest can begin in earnest." Mandor concludes, "A more roundabout way of getting time to move once more, I see. But this cycle's Sword Master is on our side."

"One of them is." the Sage corrects, "That's why I entrusted Mac Nair with finding Sylvia. But there's still the other Mac Nair, the one who still pines for his impossible love."

"The broken one." Mandor sighs, "That one was my fault. We should never have extracted the Logoo from the King of the Mountain."

"What is done is done." the Sage waves his hand, "No point crying about it now. Breaking one Mac Nair had the side effect of causing the world to birth another as a replacement, so it all works out in the end."

"So what was it you wanted to ask me about?" Mandor gets back to the topic at hand.

"Nair has partially succeeded in his mission." the Sage clasps both hands together, "I know where Sylvia is hiding. And why. She has been abusing the Farmer's corpse, spreading Hackal's power recklessly."

"I told you so." Mandor grunts, "Angels cannot be trusted."

"Only an angel could hide the Farmer's corpse away from Ea." the Sage demurs, "I also suspect one of the reasons the original Dasar patriarch was patched out was because Ea surmised that he was working with us."

"But if Ea can do that, doesn't it mean none of us are safe?" Mandor feels chills running down his spine.

"The Patriarch refused to accept the Mark of Hackal." the Sage says, "Now you understand why I am so insistent on all of us bearing it."

"If you say so." Mandor rubs his chest gingerly, tracing the outline of the brand carved on to his flesh.

"I want to get your opinion on what we should do about Sylvia." the Sage drones, "We obviously can't let her continue this way, but we need to keep the Farmer's corpse safe as well."

"You can't fight angels." Mandor refutes, "They are an existence neither of us can touch."

"On the contrary." the Sage finally smiles, "All you need is an angel's true name. It took me some trouble, but Hackal's Rift makes finding something like that out possible."

"If you already went through the hassle," Mandor observes, "then you've already decided what you want to do."

"I suppose that's right." the Sage chuckles humorlessly.

"Thank you for the confirmation."