“Why does it feel like I climbed a mountain!” exclaims Sidney as he flops down next to Madilyn and Bill.

“Because we did? If there are a hundred levels to this place and there were literal mountains in the previous one, we have to climb at least that far to get to the next one,” Madilyn replies.

Bill quacks softly to the two of them, inciting a response from Sidney.

“What do you mean we could have used magic to get here faster? Explain yourself Magic Duck!”

Two monotone quacks followed by one with a downward inflection is enough for Madilyn to jump into this strange conversation.

“What do you mean Sia got here before us? I was in the lead the whole way up here!”

“Quáck quàck” is the reply with a brief nod towards the tree-line, where Sia is seen with some largish fruits in her arms.

“Helluuuu!” is the call they receive from Sia, finally arriving within a reasonable distance to not shout.

“Hello to you too,” Madilyn begins, “and how did you get up here before me?”

“Magic! You see, I noticed a strange-,” Sia begins before trailing off, handing her and Sidney the fruit, and walking towards the top of the steps.

She arrives just as Ted places his last foot on the last step, and hugs him tightly, wrapping her arms around the outside of his so that he can’t move anything above the elbow. Sighing, he puts his head on her shoulder and awkwardly hugs her back as Luck wings her way from his shoulder to where Bill is resting.

With a quizzical look at Ted and Sia, Sidney and Madilyn turn briefly to Luck to ask what is happening.

Simply put, I informed him of certain events in the world outside of this place, and made him cry. He’s a bit better now, but take it from someone who is much more experienced here, if he tells you then you will know. If he doesn’t, it is for the best. And while we’re on the subject, do not be alarmed if he disappears for a while to collect his thoughts, as they were, though I suspect this may happen later, once he sees the world for himself once again.

“Ah, that’s right, Ted wasn’t born in the village was he?” Sidney says, rhetorically. “I’m surprised that he would even remember what things were like. I can hardly remember things from when I was four or five, and he was supposed to be something like three years old then wasn’t he? I only remember because mum said they arrived the day I was born.”

“There’s a neat trick to that you know,” Ted replies, having peeled himself away from Sia, catching the latter portion of the conversation. Tapping his head with a finger, he continues, saying, “It’s that you don’t store all of your memories here.”

“Like a journal?” Madilyn asks, somewhat curious about how a three year old would write such a thing. Her own brother chewing on blocks as a toddler springing to mind.

Smiling, somehow cryptically, Ted produces two thin-ish leather-bound journals and tosses them at Sidney and Madilyn. This causes the two to miss the glance shared by Sia, Bill, and Luck.

“I’ll let you in on a little known secret of the universe,” Ted continues, handing them compressed charcoal pencils to use on the blank journals, should they choose. “If you have enough memories stored in things like these, you should have some way of finding them again. If it is important enough, keep several copies. If it is something which can be used against you…”

Sensing a slight pause and melancholy, the group turns to look at Ted’s briefly downturned face.

“You may choose to share it with the world or hide it within yourself. In the end though, only you can decide,” he says, looking back up. “If you would share your joy with the world, do so. If you desire hide your thoughts and plans, so be it. Your life is too short to keep dwelling on ‘could have’s and ‘maybe if’s. What drives your life forward? God, adventure, love, cookies, or all of that combined or something else entirely, those that travel farthest down this path called life have a driving force. Whether or not another understands their motives.

“Regardless of the time they spend among us,” he finishes softly.

Sensing the profound melancholy behind these words, Madilyn and Sidney thank Ted for the journals, and in their own ways tell him they will keep it in mind.

- - - - - - - - - -

Late that night, a small distance from the camp the group made after arriving on the 99th level, a small and unusual group is meeting in secret. A duck, an ancient dragon, and a golem-minion-turned-homunculus meet at the top of a rock overlooking the area.

Thunderhammer Bladebill included the rock in an area of selective silence when preparing for camp in hopes of hiding the extent of their preparations for the night, whereas usually he would only install the basic safety measures, wards and protection over the tents from harm.

“Luck!” Sia exclaims in a stage whisper, “What did you do?! Is he going to be mopey like this all week? If I could cut sadness with a knife I’d be able to feed the village for a century!”

Sigh, if you only knew how right you are young one. I would hope you two know that Ted was married about two centuries ago? And what happened?

“Yes, but only from what Fleur and the others told me right before we left.”

Indeed, he and I spent most of those two centuries together, and he spent a fair amount of the early years reminiscing on those events, is Thunderhammer Bladebill’s regal response.

There is more to the story however, and the short of things are as follows. He and I may well have spent several decades inside of an accelerated time bubble as he was processing things, and crying, so if a week is all it takes I say we should be thrilled if it ends there.

“If it ends there?” Sia asks suspiciously, with an arched eyebrow, one of her favorite movements after obtaining a pair of them again.

Quite, Luck continues. I told him that I was able to track down the masterminds behind it…

Bollocks, the magic duck replies, him and Sia sitting fully now rather than standing or lounging respectively nearing the edge of anxiety.

And, immediately before we left the bubble, he wrote a small letter with the names Nora Black and Thul Winters on it, somehow managed to give himself a paper-cut, sealed it up and sent it through a small door.

“Bollocks,” Sia says, laying down fully, appreciating the word for what it is as she sits upon the metaphorical cliff of uncertainty. “Those names sound familiar but I can’t place them. And I suppose Graham was right in calling our old place the Hive on occasion.”

I suppose we should consider it a good thing if only a single empire falls again, Luck continues. I was still quite young when it happened, but I did find out years later that a certain unscrupulous merchant family attempted to use his symbol in a healing potion label, and not good potions at that. I didn’t get all the details but that seemed to be what everyone focused on after the empire collapsed.

A light punishment all things considered, Thunderhammer Bladebill states. I have only heard rumors, but there are fates far worse than death that he has thrust unto those who irritate him sufficiently. Though that would explain why our dear Fleur told us he is the only one allowed to wear that symbol, though with two centuries gone by without him walking the world.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Bollocks,” The’vrin, Batu, and Pohon say simultaneously.

Fyles, the deliverer of bad news complicating bad news, huffs despite the lack of lungs or vocal cords. “Fortunately or otherwise, Thul Winters was depressingly obvious to find, and just the surface level of reasons to blow up a continent again is his symbol being used on these things. Regardless of the fact his company is producing potions that do actually fully heal all ailments, according to the full report of these potions in the Akasha, Ivan’s blood was used as the base material for them.”

Choice expletives of the twelve golems in the meeting can be heard in low or loud tones.

“Do we have any idea why this was done?” Graham asks.

“Not after only a few hours of looking. We have 200 years of history to go through but at least we have an anchor point. It would be better if we had a few newer colleagues though because some of the technology has improved significantly. Regardless of how many of us have spent time walking those halls of knowledge, inherent understanding is hard to come by.”

“So we need more souls?” Batu asks rhetorically. “We managed to have a back-up plan for this all those years ago, remember? The castle on the 54th floor, he told all of those temples years ago that if they properly labeled the soul stones and took them there, they would eventually make their way to the ‘soul archive,’ a.k.a. our lair. It’s probably been 250 years since then, and there’s an incentive for adventurers even if they survive the encounters with the lords of the castle. Or perhaps not, who knows if they ever got that magic circle to work, we couldn’t ever test it here because we’re already dead.”

“Graham, your thoughts on this?” The’vrin asks.

After a momentary pause, Graham makes an obvious decision.

“We keep it simple, and write him a letter back saying we need perspectives of new souls, those adventurers or anyone who has died within the last 5-10 years, and to send a letter to the lords of 54 asking them to prepare the soul stones and supplies.”

“Include in there that I said to take his time on each floor, and do not rush to leave,” The’vrin states, partially from the need to plan without interruption, and partially to come to grips with what he has learned of the world in recent hours. “We will ensure as many variables are identified as possible, but it will take significant effort.”

“One question though,” a golem by the name of Eric begins, “How do we know those blood sucking monsters will listen to a mysterious letter?”

“Ah, young one,” Duke Salim says dramatically, “It has always been said that he holds their lifeblood in his hands, and when he made that castle it became obvious how true it is. For he in ages past defeated and sealed the progenitors of the vampires, and now they are ensconced within the throne room of that castle. They bow to his whims for all things except death, which in ages past frustrated our Handbells to no end. Valac and his brood, never to walk this world again!”

The elder and more level headed of the golems exchange eyeless glances, as the words clearly not spoken to one of the youngest among them are, ‘Unless there is a reason to.’