Ar'Kendrithyst

White lightning struck a white boulder that was covered in moss, half-buried in a rock garden at the side of a real garden, and a house. Erick stepped out of the light. For a brief moment he was imposing. Larger than life. Broad-shouldered and with a crown of black horns on his head, with a robe of white shimmers and deepest black, just in case Quilatalap had some guests. But there were no guests. And so, Erick smiled, transforming in that moment from the Apparent King, to just Erick, as he dispelled his horns and ditched his shoes, to feel the greenery underfoot.

A wonderful little house stood not too far away, three storied and with a pair of mage towers on the north and east sides, with a cozy little forest all around. Erick felt a tug in his heart that was deeper than usual as he took in the sight before him, for he was home, and he didn’t want to leave.

For the first time in eleven years, he wouldn’t have to.

Not for a while, anyway.

Erick brushed away happy little tears as he breathed deep the scent of a well-tended garden to the north, and the new forest all around. He searched for smells of dinner, but it might be too early for Quilatalap to be doing that. Maybe he was reading in the library? Unless someone snuck into the dungeon again and needed to be tested, or rescued, of course. It was hard to mana sense properly in the dungeon, so all Erick could rely on were his actual senses.

He was reasonably sure he was alone.

Erick laughed as he hopped off the boulder, to walk along a mossy path toward the house, saying, “Looks like we get to make dinner this time, Ophiel. What do you want to try?”

Ophiel hovered in the air beside Erick, looking like a white crow with four wings, three eyes, and an eye on each wing. He was trying out a new form right now, but he would probably pick another one in a few days, for he switched when he got excited, and at the question of dinner, he got truly excited.

Fluffing out into a mess of wings and eyes, Ophiel announced, “Want purple!”

Erick nodded. “Go and get a few violetberries from the garden, then. Just a few, though!”

Erick almost gave a few more instructions, but Ophiel had already torn off through the air, toward the garden, whistling in happy violin sounds as he dove right into the violetberry plant. That little guy sure could tear through greenery, but it was just a plant. He’d repair it later—

A flash of shadow shattered the air near the door to the house, before rapidly transforming into Quilatalap. Erick’s heart stilled at the sight of him. The man was physically as amazing as always, thanks to being an orcol, but Erick felt a lot more for him these days than he ever had for any other orcol on the street. All others paled in comparison to his Quilatalap. How Erick felt was the same way that Quilatalap felt about Erick, too, and though they had discussed marriage, both of them had decided not to do that for a while. At least not until Erick decided to actually retire.

Which would likely never happen.

But.

Erick had some good news today, and he couldn’t wait to share it.

Erick smiled wide. “Quil!”

Quilatalap grinned, taking in the sight of Erick, saying, “You look way too happy. Your boss finally approve you for a vacation?”

“Better than that.” Erick went right up to Quilatalap and grabbed the larger man’s hands. Erick was only about 20 centimeters shorter these days, not the full 60-ish he used to be, so the disparity between them wasn’t nearly so pronounced as it had been in the beginning. ‘The dragon was out’ at least a little bit, all the time. Erick looked his love in his eyes, saying, “I’m ready for a real break.”

Quilatalap’s breath hitched—

Ophiel reappeared, absolutely painted with the purple remains of a should-be-much-larger violetberry harvest. The little guy only had three big berries in his hands, which had to be the smallest fraction of what he had actually tried to eat.

“Berries!” Ophiel announced, and then he held them out for Quilatalap to take. “Make pudding!”

Quilatalap smiled as he took the berries, the tiny purple morsels looking even smaller in his big hands, and then turned toward the house, one hand still holding Erick’s. “Let’s talk inside.”

- - - -

Erick sat down at the side table with a pot of tea while Quilatalap got to work in the kitchen. Eggs and sugar and vanilla beans came out as Ophiel hummed a song, happily watching the archlich make his pudding.

Quilatalap asked, “So it’s really happening, then? All the major problems fixed?”

“There will always be problems and I’ll probably have to deal with something, but yes.” Erick happily said, “A few big things are still happening. Last year’s elections in the Cities are still giving the House and Candlepoint problems, but we’ve got a decent government going over there now, and they can handle it. It’s not fully democratic, but it’s a nice model combining every good part and leaving out the bad… Or at least the rule of law and peaceful transfers of power seem to be holding. Dragons are dragoning, but it’s not nearly as bad as anyone thought it would be.”

Quilatalap nodded. “I’ve heard about most of that. Something about a woman from the Sovereign Cities in particular, either a scandal with a dragon, or something? How much meddling did you have to do?”

“Not much at all, actually!” Erick happily announced. “That woman you’re talking about is Bertha Givingtree—”

“That’s the one.”

“—and she was ousted in a lawful election in Killtree, due to some shenanigans with Dragon Emprazala, which caused some other Blessed Noble to be elected, so the circumstances of that election caused a disruption which made it all the way to the Greater Candlepoint Court. I had to judge Bertha personally, and then judge Emprazala, and then the other guy, Nicko Lowgrounder. It was a bad deal all around, but the new guy is probably fine, and if he’s not, then Bertha will come back from that loss. She’ll run in the reelections in Killtree in four years and she’ll either win, or she won’t.”

Quilatalap chuckled. “All this democracy. Almost like the Fractured Citadels.”

“Speaking of them, have you heard from Death Throne lately?”

“Yes. They’re still slowly being bled to true-death by oozes, yet they refuse to implement the basic requirements for a Gate Network and assistance.”

“… Yeah. That’s one problem I haven’t been able to fix.” Erick discarded that dark emotion, and turned brighter, saying, “Ah! But speaking of the Network. That’s what brought me here today, besides you.”

Quilatalap smiled as he put the pudding into the oven.

Erick announced, “Kiri finally regained most of her power!”

Quilatalap’s eyes went wide as he briefly looked shocked. Amazement came fast, and then a softening. With a knowing voice, he said, “So that’s it, then. Someone else finally has [Gate], and the power to use it.”

“Took Kiri longer to do her Worldly Path than she wanted since she had to travel through thirty-nine dungeons and then finally come back home, but she got it. Her [Soul Realignment] incurred a minimal loss of power, and then I helped her make her first node out of Benevolence last week. Tasar helped the whole way through, of course. A few others might eventually walk the Path and eventually find me, and I’ll have to do the same for them. But that’s not a problem for a while.” Erick looked at Quilatalap. “Gatemaster Kiri has taken over my greater duties on the Network. She won’t have nearly as easy a time as I had, though, considering she doesn’t have Time Magic.”

Quilatalap laughed loudly. “As easy a time as you, eh?”

Erick grinned. “Easier than it could have been.” And then he lost his grin. “It’s actually been closer to 20 years for me, Quilatalap. Sometimes I feel like I’m so disconnected. Nothing feels real.”

Quilatalap sat down beside Erick.

Erick said, “It’s all obviously real, but… Jane’s down in the Underworld, liaisoning between the Dungeon Guild and the Adventurer’s Guild City below Quintlan, to solve some of the bigger dungeon breaks. She’s been there for the last month and I was speaking to her every weekend but… I can’t call her every one of my weekends, because then I’d be calling her every 12 hours sometimes. And so, I ended up going fourmonths without talking to my daughter.”

Quilatalap spoke seriously, “It’s time for a real break. Are you ready for a real break?”

“… I want to be. But. I’m terrified that when I open my eyes again, that I’ll be the dungeon slime, and that all my everyone will not want me because I am fake. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“That’s not how it works. I’ve done the tests myself and you’ve seen them. You have easily picked out fake Quilatalaps and they don’t even try to pretend to be real, unless they’re acting directly under my authority. It’s not slavery or mind control or anything like that; it’s me allowing them to act in my stead, as myself. Like a royal knight, or something similar.”

“Yes, but… Is it wrong for them to be made to like being that way? Is it… An unnatural order of events? Is it like the goblins, imprinting on a higher power?”

“Dungeon slime masters are simply people, Erick, and goblins are people too. You might as well say it’s wrong for a person to love a comfortable bed, or a hobby they like.”

“But the copy will want my life, right?”

“He’ll reluctantly take over your life, if you approve, but he will probably rapidly decide he likes being his own person. Look at mine. They all have different names and they all are perfectly fine not interacting with the people I prefer to be around, and even love, in one case.”

Erick felt a flush of joy in his heart, but he was still worried. “Well you’re pretty special, so it makes sense that your copies are special, too. Not all of them are like that.”

“I admit that I have had an easier time of it than most because I’m something of a hermit,” Quilatalap said, smiling. And then he put the smile away and got serious again. “The dungeon master slime will rapidly discover if it’s the slime or not, and everything flows from there. I have two copies helping me with the dungeon all the time, and they’re wonderful people; just like me, but different. If you make a copy, and if you give them some of your power, then they’ll be exactly like you are, too. And that’s what you want, right?”

“I do want that. That’s the purpose of finally doing this. But… Will the copy be okay with taking over for me, while I’m gone? Or is that advanced slavery? And face stealing?”

With a knowing tone, Quilatalap said, “I know you, Erick. You want to go right back out there and never stop working, ever, even if it is not what you truly want, because when the Wizard of Benevolence is in his tower, all's right with the world.”

Erick didn’t particularly like that saying, but it had gotten around the world in recent years, and he had grown numb to it. Mostly.

“I do want to keep working… But also not. I love helping people! But I have a network of family that helps me do that, and if I made a copy, they wouldn’t be treated right by those people. And it wouldn’t be Poi or Teressa or Kiri or Jane’s faults, either. It’s the nature of the beast.”

“Well… There are other ways to do this sort of thing without having your copy walk around in the House like it's you. You could actually change how the House works, and you could not be ‘Gatemaster Flatt’. We could turn over this entire dungeon to the copy and have him create the proto-Script that you’ve been itching to make for years now, and then if anyone wants to come in and ask questions, or deal with bureaucracy, then they could do that through him.”

Erick froze a little.

“… Ah. That option. The r-word.”

Retirement.

“Yes. That option. It’s time. All the world is different and we could truly get lost out there if we wanted. No one could [Teleport] right onto us. And we’ve had this conversation a hundred different ways. If you want to go through all those words again I’d love to, but… I thought you finally made up your mind this time?”

“… Yeah. I’m just… Worried. About everything.” Erick turned back to him. “Would one of your copies want to work with my copy, you think?”

“Oh yes. Most definitely.” Quilatalap asked, “You did tell people what was happening before you came here tonight, right?”

“… Mostly.” Erick paused. Truly, he could do a semi-retirement. “I had come down here today to get an… Extended vacation. Not. Not a real break. But.” It would be a lie to say that Erick had not thought about retirement, in depth. Could he turn a vacation into a… A retirement? “Well… Poi knows the truth. Everyone else knows that I’ve been pulling out for years, making way for others. Kiri’s [Gate] was the only thing truly holding me there… aside from all the people, of course.” Erick said, “All the major monsters are gone, into dungeons. The Dungeon Guild is killing the bad dungeons, and Jane is high up in that, just like she wanted. House Benevolence and the Gate District are stable, and it’s not like I’m vanishing… Especially not if they can get a dungeon master copy to answer questions and cast some important magics. I didn’t tell them that was happening tonight, but… The system is robust enough to survive my absence for a year or two, and when I come back… I’ll be able to take a much lesser role in the system. Something that doesn’t have me locked in meetings for 50 hours a day.”

Ophiel bounced around on the table as he waited and waited and waited for his father to stop talking, so he could talk instead. Instantly, when Erick finished, Ophiel shouted, “Pudding!”

Quilatalap grinned at the little guy and then he got up, to take out the pudding from the oven. A few quick magics later and a chilled purple pudding sat in front of Ophiel, who rapidly turned into a bundle of feathers and tiny beaks and eyes, to devour his little treat. Most of the meal went everywhere except for inside Ophiel’s mouth, because Ophiel didn’t actually have a digestive tract, or anything, really, except for a mouth and a tongue.

The tongue was the important thing these days, and it was a rather recent development.

Erick watched it all happen, saying, “And Ophiel is at an important part of his growth. I want to be there for him more. Yggdrasil is already truly deep into his teenage years. He’s nothing like Jane was, but I can tell I need to spend more time with him, too.”

Maybe he should make this vacation more permanent.

Ophiel rapidly finished his treat, and then shook himself, turning back into a 4-winged, 3-eyed crow, scattering purple pudding everywhere as he did so.

Quilatalap gave the kitchen a quick [Cleanse], and then said, “So let’s do this. Let’s set up a day-to-day simulacrum of yourself and let him work as much as he wants, while you and I and Ophiel take a vacation somewhere. Zenipeq and Citadel Frostflower have a really nice dungeon that I’d like to visit.”

That sounded all sorts of nice. Erick hoped it would really be that easy. “I’d like to visit the Freelands of Nergal, too. The liberated slave states are finally organizing, thanks to that Wizard from Ar’Cosmos. She’s still deciding who she wants to be, so her name changes every month, and House Benevolence is finally contracted to help— ahh. But that’s work. I suppose.”

“They have a dungeon down there, right? We can put another simulacrum of me and you in there, too. And if they don’t have a dungeon, we can make one for them.”

Erick smirked. “Where’s this word ‘simulacrum’ coming from?”

“Do you like it? I was thinking ‘clone’ wasn’t good enough, since that’s already a spell, and saying dungeon master slime is too much. They’re calling them deems in a few places, but that’s too close to demons, and it’s not something I approve of. I don’t really like the Dungeon Guild’s names for them, either. So. ‘Simulacrum’. It’s a defunct Old Cosmology term for a near-perfect copy of a person.”

“I like what the Dungeon Guild calls them because Jane calls them that. ‘Repros’. Short for ‘reproductions’. What’s wrong with ‘dungeon master slime’, though?” Erick instantly added, “Well. I know the problem. The dungeon master is you, but the slime is also the dungeon master, and that gets confusing.”

Quilatalap smiled. “Focusing on words, now? Are you hesitating?”

“… I am. Yes.” And then Erick stopped hesitating. He warped his guts and his skin a little, as he reached into his shirt, so it didn’t hurt and he didn’t make a mess as he removed a fist-sized, iridescent white sphere from his belly. The secondary core glowed with crystallized Benevolence. “Let’s do this, and if he’s… I don’t know. Sad about this? Then I can let him out into the real world and then never do this again.” With a weighty voice, Erick said, “That’s happened before, you know, to other repros. And then if they try to control the repro they go insane and Jane and her team has to go murder them.”

Quilatalap strongly said, “I 100% doubt that that will happen with your clone.”

“… Hopefully.”

“It won’t, Erick.” Quilatalap said, “You have to seriously ask yourself if you found yourself in this situation, if you could love it, or if you would hate it, and I don’t think you are asking yourself that question seriously enough. Being a dungeon master is immortality and control over a demiplane, economic and political might, and a connection to the greater world on a level most people only ever dream of. And, you can fully change who you are. Physically, anyway. We’ve already had this discussion but… Could you truly not see yourself enjoying that? If it were you, as a dungeon core?”

Erick tossed the core to Quilatalap, saying, “I’ve taken the psychological profile of the Dungeon Guild, too. I know it will work. I know I would enjoy this life. I’m just hesitating.”

Quilatalap held the core in his hands, and it vanished. “Then we’re done. You’re free of your obligations to House Benevolence, and to Candlepoint, and all the rest. For as long as you wish to be free. If your repro is anything like you, they’ll probably want a break in ten years, too.”

Erick stared for a moment, trying to recover from the sudden drop in his stomach. His voice rose a little high as he uttered, “Just… Just like that. We didn’t even go anywhere and do it properly?” Erick laughed, his brief fear vanishing like so much fog in the sun. “Gods above, Quil. Just! No hesitation! I love that about you, but it’s damned scary sometimes.”

Quilatalap laughed once, saying, “You’re the big bad scary Wizard. I’m just the archlich.”

Ophiel trilled, declaring, “I’m Ophiel!”

Erick reached over and patted the little guy’s head, saying, “Yes you are Ophiel.” As he picked up the little guy and put him on his shoulder, Erick asked Quilatalap, “Let’s go see him?”

“I thought you did the Dungeon Guild’s exam? No no. We’re not going to him.” Quilatalap stepped back into the kitchen, saying, “He’ll wake up dizzy and weird, and after an hour he’ll acclimate to his new body and then he’ll start thinking again. He’ll be here soon enough. But in the meantime—” Quilatalap began taking out flour and eggs from the cold storage again. “It’s close enough to dinner time right? I’ve been saving up some good lunar stag and some flowing flour to make deer noodles, and now seems like a good time for a small celebration.”

Erick smiled—

And then Erick glanced out the kitchen window. The forest was rather normal this close to the house, but massive monsters prowled out there, eager to chomp on anyone who strayed out of bounds, and there were lots of no-go areas in this particular part of the dungeon. If you didn’t know the proper way to get here then you’d be captured and probably killed, and when you came back to life you would be inside Quilatalap’s naughty jail. If the monsters and traps of the forbidden forest didn’t get you, then you would trip one of the many, many, Absolute Domain traps, and suffer the same result.

The naughty jail (of which Erick was embarrassed every time Quilatalap called it that, which was probably why Quilatalap called it that) was a rather boring office-like room, which caused any occupants to suffer through a 30 minute presentation, via a runic record/video player, about what everyone needed to know about House Benevolence’s dungeon’s rules, along with a few possible reasons why the viewer was seeing this presentation. Once the warning was given, the occupant would be shoved out of the dungeon, directly deposited into another office space back in the real world, inside House Benevolence. From there, a failed delver could return to the main entrance of the dungeon, and try again…

Erick asked, “The clone won’t die to some monster or trap, will he?”

“Absolutely not. He’s on a safe path through the trials, and until he fully recovers who he is, then all of the powers you gave him are locked.”

“… So he could step off the trials.”

Without looking up from kneading the dough, Quilatalap said, “A repro of mine is looking after him. Erick-version-2 is perfectly fine, because right now he’s just a slime learning how to be a person, mimicking the original. When he learns how to be himself, he’ll also be you, and you’re fine with your own magic. What spells did you give your repro?”

Erick smiled. “All of the ones I trust myself with.”

“So almost none.”

“Untrue! I gave him everything.”

Quilatalap nodded a little, saying, “You haven’t had to do a Forgotten Campaign yet, despite everything, so this will probably work out, as well.” He set the dough aside to let it rest, then moved on to the meat preparation. “Not what I would have done. My repros got the basic set, and have regained most of their own magics, but they certainly didn’t start off with everything… Anyway. We’ll be able to talk to your Version-2 in a few hours, so… Do you want spicy venison? I’m kinda wanting some spicy tonight.”

“A 4 out of 10, max.”

“I can do that.” Quilatalap smiled. “Do you think they’ll come after you? On our vacation?”

“Oh yeah. Someone will. Jane, probably. Burhendurur for sure. Or maybe Teressa will tell them all not to bother because ‘nothing bad will happen with his absence’. That’s what I’m really hoping for, and maybe...”

The conversation went on, Erick happily speaking of the near future, and of his worries, and how he had already set up everything to succeed without him. But soon, talk turned to goals, and to what Erick wished to get done out in the world. Talk returned to the recent past, as Quilatalap spoke about all that he had been doing in the many different dungeons he managed the world over.

He was up to 27 dungeons, with 18 of those on the Surface. He truly loved this life, and his repros did, too.

Dinner came and went, and the sky outside turned dark.

- - - -

Erick lay in bed with Quilatalap, warm under the covers as they watched a v-record that Quilatalap had imported from Songli. This particular magitech was still new, so the machine consisted of twenty v-records, all lined up on the automatic v-record player, all primed to pick up where the previous one left off. Setting it up was always a struggle, because what it actually did was enlarge and play the moving lightsculpture in the center of the player onto a bigger screen, while the record played the voice and music to go along with video.

The machine fucked up on record #16, and Erick had to take it apart and put it back together again, but he managed to make it work, and soon, he was back in bed with Quilatalap.

Erick said, “You should get one of the newer ones.”

Quilatalap chuckled. “This is the one you bought me, not two years ago. I like this story, too. It’s not been updated to the new machines.”

“Then that’s another thing I want to do on this vacation—”

“I know you want to stay away from the ‘r-word’, but to call it a vacation is not what you really want it to be, is it, Erick?”

“… I am under no illusions that I will ever be able to actually retire… Anyway! Maybe I’ll go into technology production when we come back from vacation. Make a good video recorder, and player. Hand out some more copies of the laptop… Or maybe I should wait five more years on that one. The last time— The problem was that people simply don’t know the basic tech that goes into that machine, and thus there is no way for them to do anything with the laptops except pull them apart and then completely fail to understand what they’ve done, or how anything works at all. I probably have to start with transistors and binary and… Ugh! Adding machines.”

“I like your calculator. Now that is something that I am surprised did not catch on.”

“Book Magic solves number problems without any real learning on the part of people. No need to have adding machines at all… I’m kinda mad no one liked my calculator either.”

“That’s enough work-talk for now,” Quilatalap said, smiling, pulling Erick close again.

Erick laughed a little, then said, “Fine fine. We’re watching a movie, I guess.”

“Eh. We’ve seen it before. Say. I have a question for you. If you could go to any time period, or place, where would you go?”

“Ha! Well… Where would I like to go?” Erick thought for a moment. “I suppose… a nice vacation could be had at… I really don’t know, actually.”

Quilatalap said, “I’d like to visit the future, I think. Skip the next 90 years. See where Yggdrasil takes us all.”

“… Oh? Well. That’s… Hmm.”

Erick went silent. Thinking.

Quilatalap simply smiled softly, watching the v-recorder play its ‘movie’ on the air beyond their bed.

Erick asked, “Do you really want to go that far?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I know.”

For a long moment, Erick sat there beside Quilatalap, an unwelcome presence looming between them, and all around. Erick hadn’t noticed it at first, but now…

“Where is the dungeon master slime who took my core?”

Quilatalap kept his eyes on the viewing screen ahead, as he said, “He’s around here somewhere.”

The unnerving presence grew.

Night lay heavy and silent on the forest outside, thick with shadows and hidden depths. The bedroom was dark, except for that which lay illuminated in the light of the v-player. Ophiel nuzzled into himself on the headboard above Erick, his eyes closed as he breathed, just a little bit. And Quilatalap breathed not at all. Usually he breathed. Breathing was not just an affectation for him. It was a reminder he was alive, and his bodies were also semi-living, so they did need oxygen-exchange with the atmosphere...

Mimics didn’t breathe, though.

“… You are my Quilatalap, right? Not a repro?”

Quilatalap smiled softly, and then he turned to Erick. His eyes were dark and large. “I’m both.”

Erick felt his heart tear. He did not move away from his love as he whispered, “I thought I could still tell you apart.”

Not-Quilatalap said, “Usually you can.”

Erick’s heart did not beat. His breath did not hitch.

He hadn’t breathed and his heart hadn’t pumped blood for a while. And he hadn’t noticed until now.

In that moment, Erick realized that his core was where it usually was, next to his heart, but his heart was a collection of tubes and cells that were still organizing themselves, while his guts were still forming into a proper digestive system, and his own lungs were unmoving sponges in his chest. His own brain was a collection of goo.

With a deep sadness, Not-Erick said, “I’m not Erick.”

“That’s untrue.” Not-Quilatalap said, “Everything up until this moment, right here, is you, being Erick. You were in a fugue state for a while, though. Took you about seven hours to come out of it. And now you’re here, and now you know who you are. The rest of your body will organize faster now that you know who you are, but that’s just cosmetic stuff for people like you and me.”

Not-Erick curled up with Not-Quilatalap, his voice a small thing as he whispered, “I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this for the repro.”

Not-Quilatalap hugged him back, saying, “It’ll be okay. You’re still you, and now you can go right back to work tomorrow if you want. Or you can stay here with me in this dungeon. Or we can go out and visit the rest of the world. See what’s changed. We can also visit your original, if you want. The original is out there right now, waiting for your decisions, and currently agonizing over how real you are.”

Sudden mirth.

Not-Erick laughed. “He would be agonizing over this, wouldn’t he.”

Not-Quilatalap nodded.

The movie played on.

When the v-player switched to disk #18, Not-Erick had come to a decision, but he had a few questions, first.

He asked, “What year is it?”

“1450. Same as it should be. Nothing changed there.”

“I assume that I’m to become the backup at Candlepoint? And that my memories have been altered a fraction?”

“We’ll talk about the memory thing later, with Erick and Quilatalap. For now, know that you don’t have to be anything more than an extreme backup, to help prevent everything from falling apart. You can be Erick’s replacement here in Candlepoint, or, you could simply be another person in the street. Kromolok or Zolan or Kiri might ask for something here or there, because they’ll know about you, but you are absolutely free to be your own person, Erick.” Not-Quilatalap said, “As for the memories, you have everything except for the new task that Erick is heading up, which is what required him to make this backup with you, because he wasn’t sure if he would survive what he needs to do next. You don’t have to be involved in that, though. It’s not your fight.

“I still love you, and you still love me, and nothing has to change there at all.”

There was a lot to unpack there, but Not-Erick asked, “What task? What is the original doing?”

“Something very important, I am told, but not world-changing.”

“Ha!” Not-Erick said, “That’s a lie. The second part, anyway.”

“He is a rather bad liar. Even eleven years as a statesman can’t change that.”

Even though the emptiness of the room was filled with the soft sounds of a drama unfolding on the viewing screen ahead, silence dominated.

Eventually, the movie ended.

Eventually, there was true silence. Darkness all around. Shadows in the forest.

Not a single monster to be seen.

And then Not-Erick asked, “What is the task?”

Not-Quilatalap said, “I’m not allowed to know. I assume you aren’t either.”

Not-Erick asked, “Do you still call yourself Quilatalap? Or… Or is that a faulty memory?”

“Nothing has been removed except for that single task. By every possible metric, you are Erick. By every possible measurement, I am Quilatalap. Always have been.”

That wasn’t a real answer, but he was trying to be there for… Not-Erick in a way that Not-Erick needed, but didn’t exactly want.

“… I won’t be keeping the same name.” Ezekiel said, “I’m Ezekiel.” He looked up at Ophiel, saying, “And that’s not my Ophiel, is he?” Erick felt something else that was missing inside. “And I don’t have Yggdrasil either, do I?”

Ophiel fluttered around at hearing his name—

And then he shifted, as though someone else had taken control of him, probably because that was exactly what had happened. Ophiel turned into a 6-winged, many-eyed being, and then he bowed. His form shifted back to his 4-winged crow form, and then he took off, turning to light and then passing through the window above the bed, to vanish into the night.

“So there are a few things missing,” Ezekiel said. “Not just the memory of this task.”

“A few things simply can’t transfer. Wizardry is one of them, too. So… Erick apologizes for all that.”

“Yeah. Had enough trouble with Wizards over the years, haven’t we.” Ezekiel said, “Ar’Cosmos’s Wizard turned out okay. But the other two… Not great— Ah. Is the ‘unmentionable task’ about another Wizard?”

Not-Quilatalap shrugged. “He’s not saying.”

“… Just as well. You know... I’m finding myself rather more and more enamored with the idea of making some earth-tech and hanging out in the streets of Candlepoint. Maybe I’ll open a magic item shop… Ah. It’s going to be… Really hard to not pursue Poi or Teressa or Kiri or Jane— fuck!” Ezekiel added, “And then there’s Meph… and Syllea. Kirginatharp. Lapis and Aisha… Oh… Kirginatharp doesn’t treat repros as well as he could— Oh holy fuck. Jane has killed more repros than anyone else I know! This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

“Or, you could not interact with those people.”

“… Is it bad that I’m considering that?”

“You’re Ezekiel. You’re not Erick. You can follow in the exact footsteps of the original, but most simulacrums choose to abandon that idea rather fast. A few choose different names, like you have. Almost all dungeon masters become the people they need to be in order to take care of their dungeon space, and to be the person who made them. It’s a smooth adjustment almost all the time, as long as the input person isn’t a danger to themselves. And you are not that.”

“Ha! Yeah.”

Silence.

… Ezekiel asked, “Do we have to meet with Erick? Because I don’t really feel like that at all.”

“He is the Grand Wizard of Benevolence, so realistically, we should see him and ensure that what is happening here is what he wants. But we don’t have to.”

Ezekiel chuckled. “Yeah. Fuck that guy. Going off on vacation and leaving me to hold down the fort— Oh! I could make some jokes that only he would find funny. That might be fun... Okay. I changed my mind.” Ezekiel hopped out of bed then put some clothes back on as he said, “Let’s go!”

Not-Quilatalap rolled out of bed, moving slower than Ezekiel, saying, “There’s no real hurry. No one is going anywhere.”

- - - -

Ezekiel rushed through the open archway into the white room beyond, already saying, “I promised myself that I wasn’t going to do this outside of a true emergency, Erick. We both remember when Nirzir’s double went bad, and when Kiri’s double plotted to murder her! Not all repros are a good idea!”

Erick and Quilatalap stood in the room, both of them dressed for travel, with Ophiel fluttering on Erick’s shoulder. Quilatalap looked calm as he looked to his own double, standing behind Ezekiel.

Erick, however, was very, very remorseful. He rushed to say, “The problem came up literally four days ago and I could die to fix it, so I’m so sorry to do this to myself but it had to be done. I am so, so sorry, Ezekiel.”

Ezekiel frowned, taking in the sight of himself. And now he felt bad for being angry. Well damn. Ezekiel said, “Fuck. It must be bad, then?”

“Possibly bad. Possibly not bad at all. Hard to say until I… Well…” Erick went quiet.

Ezekiel decided right then and there, “Glad I don’t have to bother with that shit. Have fun saving the world. I’m here if you need me!”

Erick said, “It’s not like that. But… Thank you. You have fun, too.”

“… You know? I think I will.” Ezekiel smiled, and then he transformed. A bit taller. A bit hotter. A bit exactly how Erick had always wanted to be, but he had an image to maintain, and people knew him for him. Ezekiel was a whole new man, though. As he flexed a larger arm and put his other hand to his thinner waist, Ezekiel smiled at Erick, flashing perfect teeth and blinking his new magenta eyes, saying, “It’s the Zolan-Treatment for me! I plan on having a lot of fun and also making a lot of new earth-tech that you have yet to get around to making. Ring me if the world is about to collapse. Otherwise I’m busy!”

Erick looked up at Ezekiel, muttering, “Dammit. I was going to use that form sometime.” And then he said, “You better help around Candlepoint some!”

“Yeah yeah, Old Man Wizard— Oh! You should put on a robe and wizard hat—”

“I am not doing the beard and pointy hat look.”

Both of them knew that Ezekiel did not mean that at all, and that Erick had cut him off before he could complete the meme.

Ezekiel smiled a bit more, but then he lost his smile, saying, “Good luck, Erick. I’ll hold down the fort.”

Erick relaxed. “Thank you.”

Ezekiel joked, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Now you owe me a thousand years servitude!”

Both Quilatalaps scowled at the poor joke, but there was no heat to their looks.

Erick simply laughed. “That might have scared me ten years ago. Not anymore. You have [Fairy Banishing], too, and it works very well.”

Quilatalap said, “I love that spell, and I love you for making it, but do not joke about that shit.” He looked to Ezekiel, saying, “You probably shouldn’t joke about that, either.”

Ezekiel felt rather secure in [Fairy Banishing], but he took the advice for what it was; the recommendation from a loved one.

Not-Quilatalap said to Ezekiel, “You can joke about it with me once the originals go their own way. By the way, I call myself ‘Quil’; you don’t have to keep calling me ‘not-Quilatalap’ in your mind.”

Ezekiel instantly said, “I wasn’t doing that, Quil.”

Quilatalap, Quil, and Erick all glanced at each other.

Erick said, “Glad to see I remain a terrible liar.”

“You really can’t tell me the emergency?” Ezekiel said, “I’m going to figure it out anyway, as soon as I think around the holes in my memory.”

Erick paused in thought, frowning a little.

Ezekiel waited for Erick to come to the right conclusion.

Erick said, “It’s about why we haven’t been able to become a Full Wizard these last ten years.”

“Ahhh… Well. I’m sure that’s an emergency somehow. I always thought we’d… You know. Get around to full-crystal when necessary. With [Fairy Banishing] and our Health, full-crystal really hasn’t been necessary at all. So I assume it is, now?”

Erick scrunched his face… Then he looked to Quilatalap.

Quilatalap shrugged. “I honestly don’t know if this new ‘clue’ to attaining full-crystal form is really a clue at all. But the emergency which demands full-crystal… It’s all connected.”

Ezekiel looked to Quil.

Quil shrugged, because of course he had no idea what the originals were talking about.

Ezekiel said to Erick, “We’ve accreted to full-crystal, but then when we transform back to a person through Small Wizardry, the crystal form simply vanishes as though it never existed, and we don’t gain the full immunity to other people’s spellwork that we should have. We’ve tried phylactery shit and that was a disaster. Rozeta has suggested that we— well. You. Not really ‘we’, anymore. Anyway. She’s suggested that you not do Big Wizardry, so we haven’t sung to the mana… What could it be? What changed?”

Erick listened and tried not to give anything away. He succeeded, as far as Ezekiel could tell.

Ezekiel was pretty sure he could still operate as he was used to operating, sussing out microexpressions and seeing and knowing everything that he was witnessing.

Erick said, “Hopefully it remains true that there is no need for any Big Wizardry to solve this accretion problem, and that this… Other event might simply be another red herring to chase for answers.”

“Well… Maybe this other event is related. Anyway! If I trust anyone with Wizardry, it’s you. So.” Ezekiel happily said, “Good luck with whatever crazy thing you’re doing next. I’ll be here, being myself, and I think I’ll work on making film and video more reliable, while minimally interacting with the family… Whenever they want to come see me, anyway. The House might interact with me more?”

Ezekiel realized there was too much hope in his voice as he said ‘family’ after he had said it. But he couldn’t take it back; it was done.

Erick softly said, “Kiri will come here sometimes, for sure. She’s the Gatemaster now. The rest of the House… The Overseers will come here sometimes if they have an emergency. With you looking different, though… I’m sorry, but the only emotional problems there will be, will happen on your end.”

“I can be a different person. This is how [Polymorph] works, right? I’ll be FINE, Erick.” Ezekiel tried to brush off that concern and change the subject, saying, “Don’t blow up the world on vacation, okay?”

“… I will not blow up the world.”

Ezekiel frowned. “Now see… When you say it like that, I get worried.”

Erick repeated, much stronger, “I won’t blow up the world!”

Ezekiel narrowed his eyes. “Not lying. Good.” He pulled back. And then he looked to the left, and opened a small Benevolence [Gate]. On the other side lay the original gate space, and it looked the same as Ezekiel remembered. He closed the [Gate], then said, “Looks like I can still check on the Benevolent Sky, too. So I’ll keep a lookout.”

Erick relaxed almost all the way, but there was a certain tension which never really left him these days. Ezekiel knew that tension well.

But that shit (mostly) wasn’t his problem anymore.

Ezekiel turned to Quil. “Anyway! I’m going to see if my everything still works! Want to help with that?”

Very seriously, Quil said, “It should, and I do.”

“Wait wait!” Erick interrupted, “You don’t want to share your dungeon core status before you go?”

“Nope! I thought I would be excited to look at that, but I haven’t looked at the thing and I don’t care to. I’m the backup in case of emergency, Erick, and I find myself truly loving that whole idea.” Ezekiel grabbed a suddenly-smiling Quil by the hand and dragged him away, saying, “I can wait a few days before caring about paperwork!”

As Ezekiel left the room, shooting one final smile at Erick, he was pretty sure he could tell at least two of the other guy’s thoughts. The first was probably, ‘I haven’t even looked at my own Status in years, so that’s likely reasonable.’ The second was likely, ‘This’ll probably work out fine.’

A lot of mitigated speech in those thoughts, with words such as ‘likely’ and ‘probably’ being used by him and Erick both, so Erick was rather worried about whatever was happening out there. Ezekiel was, too. But...

But Ezekiel was confident that he could handle his own responsibilities (they were a lot less than they used to be!), and when someone finally came looking for Erick, and found him instead, he could fill that gap for as long as needed.