“Joey?”

“Stanimal,” I wink at him.

He’s currently tending to a royal palace garden that’s so thick I would rather call it a forest. There are a few fruit trees, but the Mana is as heavy as it gets. Not even Amorium, a city famous for its rare herbs and various green products, has this energy density. I’m not wearing my Elf disguise. I have chosen to come here with my face and body—no disgusting, pointy ears.

“I go by my old name, Joey,” the old man in front of me says.

I nod ruefully. That stings for some reason.

“You pardoned the Queen, I heard.”

“How did you come here? You are—”

“Wanted, I am wanted. But I’m gathering political support,” I click my tongue. “I just wanted to say hi. You know I came with Vanedeni help.”

Stanimal looks at me without smiling. His eyes are lifeless, and his hands are still delicately touching the stem of a weird plant.

“Political support,” he repeats.

“Yeah, the thingamajig, you know? Get greedy [Archmages] hooked on the kind of magic I know. Give them some. They’ll back me up in this national manhunt that you and your cronies are carrying out.”

Stanimal just stares at me, not saying a word. Well, I guess it’s not Stanimal anymore. It’s King Tiberius.

“So, reinstating your distant granddaughter-in-law, accepting this hunt for an innocent person like me. I see that you have been busy with your politicking.”

“Not a word? Nothing?” I ask.

“It’s my duty. It’s always been, Joey. You should go.”

“Hell,” I laugh, “your duty? You were spending your days in Amorium as a homeless person to escape ‘your duty.’ And now, what do you do? And where the hell is Grigio, by the way?”

Suddenly, I’m aware of the absence of the huge animal by his side.

“He’s not with me anymore. My class, to express his full potential—”

“Wow, you got rid of Grigio?” my eyes widen.

“Duties, Joey. I have things to attend to. This new generation is weak. It’s my duty to repair that.”

“Christ, you talk as if you have been brainwashed. What the hell happened? And why the hell didn’t you try to help me in the arena? What’s up? Am I missing a piece of the puzzle? Could you tell me if someone has a knife to your family’s throat? Could you please tell me that there’s a reason you did all of this, why you changed and went back to this life? Please?”

A man I don’t know and have never seen before laughs.

“You were never that important,” he says, shaking his head. “I lost my way. When I saw you in the arena, fighting off Marcus, being helped by some Vanedeni, it reminded me of my duties, of what I’m supposed to be doing. I had abandoned my people, and you ask me why I went back?”

“So, you are telling me that you suddenly became a douchebag? That all you did then was some sort of fugue state before you could return to your royal duties? All we did together, the things we built in Amorium—”

“I haven’t been able to take care of that,” King Tiberius shakes his head. “I’ll need to cut the funds for the bakery – especially considering all the money you have stolen from the treasury. Some people did not get paid because of you—[Servants], [Farmers]; many employed by the crown. You did not steal from the royals, Joey; you stole from the common men and women.”

“Fuck, you really did a 180, didn’t you? Now, the guilt trip. Hell, I’d expect a boss fight with you in the future as well. But you know what? I don’t care. You do whatever you are supposed to do. Just—” I look around for somewhere to sit. I go and plop my ass on a rock, whipping out a piece of paper and a little tablet to write on.

“I have a history essay to write. Would you mind telling me some stuff about the Extermination Wars? I bet having the first-hand account from someone who started those wars will earn my group a lot of extra points.”

King Tiberius just stares at me for a second. Then, non-plussed, he speaks.

“I have duties to attend to. I can’t waste my time with you.”

“So, you are a big coward who didn’t help his partner in business, right? You had been a coward even before when you abandoned your so-called duties. Now, you can’t answer a few questions to help with a history essay? Are you not interested in being friends with one of the most influential soon-to-be [Professors] at the Nine Towers Academy?”

“I mean, I can see why you would be feeling fucking ashamed of yourself,” I smile, “but is there anything wrong in keeping a civil relationship with each other? What’s your problem, huh? Am I too handsome for your sorry ass? Too good to hang around? Too silly? Too smart? Too stupid? What is it?”

The last words come out of my mouth unintentionally infused with Mana, so strong that the grass around us rippled.

I can’t really fathom whatever is going on with him. He’s old. He has seen things that I can’t imagine. He has seen so much death that, on some level, he probably doesn’t see people in the same way. But is there something I can do? Is there a way I can elicit a reaction from the person that used to be the Stan who took care of me? Is there a way I could take care of him?

I don’t really know what to think. I don’t really know what to say.

King Tiberius simply stares at me before turning and walking toward the palace.

He has an air of solitude about him, the air of someone who can’t walk the path he’s going down with others. There’s no company there, no relief. There’s probably a lot of pain. There’s no laughter. There’s no silliness. There’s only taking care of duties until the day he dies.

“Get me out, Lord Juler,” I sigh.

Suddenly, I’m yanked out of the gardens and transported in front of the [Supreme Archmagus]. Apparently, inhibiting the teleport trigger is one of the things that basic anti-teleportation wards do. And that’s why sometimes it’s better to trigger the spell inside an artifact remotely.

Paranoid, if you ask me. Really a paranoid mage.

But whatever.

“Did you find the answers you were looking for? Or the satisfaction, at least? He can’t do anything to stop you from becoming a member of the Nine Towers Academy. And we monitored the [Archmages]. All are in favor. Even [Archmage] Titus. You killed off his disciple, but I bet he would be willing to kill his entire family to get his hands on the magic of old, Joey Luciani.”

“Whatever. To hell with Titus. About Stan—King Tiberius–I don’t know. Is he even a royal now? Like, is he the king? You know what? Don’t tell me. Let him do his thing. I’ll do mine. But no, no satisfaction. No real answers. I’m not sure I can interpret what a man that old thinks.”

“Care to hear the advice of another old man?” Lord Juler smiles fatherly.

“Sure,” I shrug.

“Immortality, or even very long life, is as much a curse as a blessing. Personality and character deteriorate over time. The myth of Dragons being aloof and lazy because of their immortality is true. When you outlive everyone else, you see the world differently. We are a set of Goblin cogs in their weird contraptions, and we move based on the movement of the other cogs. When the other cogs stop moving, we have to be refitted to other cogs so that we can keep working. And if we never break down like the others, we just lose our purpose, our identity. That is, obviously, an oversimplification. But the purpose can become your identity, just like it’s happened again for your friend, Joey Luciani. And King Tiberius is a haunted man. He probably wishes for no other than rest, but he also knows better; he knows that a huge change is coming. Valarith’s coming out because of me, and you put every continent on high alert. They have no idea where we are hiding, and some don’t even want to know. The Vanedenis have many enemies, Joey Luciani. But we were never the scared ones. They are. They are bunkering down, building armies, trying to defeat impossibly strong Dungeons to recover relics that might aid them in the wars that are coming to this world.”

“You know,” he continues, “how I can’t tell you what we are studying exactly? That’s because you would take part in it. Even though something is already telling me that you will be a part of it.”

“Great; always ready for the apocalypse. I hope someone writes my biography at some point, though. It would be cool to read about all my great feats.”

“Joey Luciani,” Lord Juler stares at me, “you are still a child. Do not think too much about the consequences of your actions. Act, child, and experience the world. Whatever you do, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong or right. At the moment, there’s nothing more important than what you will do and who you will be. Wisdom only exists in the realm of thoughts and actions, but actions often have to come before thoughts. Once you have enough mistakes on your [Mage] robe, you will know who you are, and you’ll be one of the greatest [Archmages] this world has ever seen. I’m sure of that.”

I don’t really know what to say. The kind of faith that Lord Juler has in me is probably one of the few things that really brought me onto this path, one of the few things that has convinced me to keep the boat steady.

Lucinda is wrong.

And she’s not wrong about me going crazy, but about not needing that. As Lord Juler says, mistakes have to be made. And mistakes will be made as I become a [Professor] at the academy. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m good enough to give lessons to a bunch of college [Mages] horny for weird magic and potions.

But I know I can follow this path with a lighter heart now.

Stan fucked up.

Laura fucked up.

Even if I were to get an [Impostor] class, it’d be because I’m the only person to speak the truth among a bunch of hypocrites. I think a boomer-ish quote about lions being bullied by sheep would be very fitting here. Imagine I said something like that.