The next day dawns in the usual heat and glory of a tropical autumn day. The morning passes slowly by as you wait for Lord Wavethunder to summon you. Whatever this Mind-Merge is, it must be a serious affair. And what's up with Lady SiDabolo? Sure, she was odd for an elf, but she did live alone in that tower for longer than anyone I know can remember. But I guess Lord Wavethunder knew her or her family of old. Probably some history there… Finally, the expected summons comes. You follow the guard as usual, but the path isn't the one you have followed to Lord Wavethunder's office so many times before. "Where are we headed today?"

The guard shrugs. "I was ordered to escort you to the ritual magic chambers."

"Ahh. Lead on then." Lord Wavethunder is taking this seriously then.

You follow the guard to a room similar to the one you teleported into upon arrival in Altheim. Unlike the teleportation room however, this one is... grimmer. Something in the air you just can't pin down. Probably more than a few minds pried open and torn apart in this room. Hope I don't need to expend the carbuncle so quickly. You find the mage from the day before sitting quietly in one of three circles in the center of a sprawling magical rune. Glancing about, you note that the runes aren't simply drawn on the floor, but are instead made of inlaid electrum. Lord Wavethunder is leaning against the far wall. He nods in greeting.

Time to find out... "Rip or Meld?"

Lord Wavethunder snorts. "Meld. I'd not want to piss of Lady SiDabolo, much less my King, by even attempting to break your mind."

That's no small relief. You nod your thanks. "So how does this work?"

Lord Wavethunder gestures you to join him and sits in one of the two empty circles. "Sit in the open circle, relax, and the mage will forge a mental connection. I've done this before, so I'll 'visit' your mind. You'll have to let me in so we can talk, and what is said in a connection like this one cannot be an untruth. You can try, but it's blatantly obvious when you do."

My mind, so if anything goes wrong it will be my head that will suffer a mischief. A clever ploy, and for all of the right reasons. Jokes on you though Lord, this isn't the first time I've had this kind of chat. "No reason to delay further than needed. Let's get this over with."

You sit in the last empty circle, close your eyes, and let the mage's chant sweep you up in its rhythm.

Light and smell fade, until all you perceive is the echoing drumbeat of the chant. You close your eyes, and then open them again inside your own mind.

You stand atop the familiar invisible floor, but there are more features to the room this time. There are four walls, though no floor or ceiling. There is the expected desk and chairs, the candles shedding soft shadows over strewn papers. Two doors fit into opposite walls. You walk over to one, your footsteps whispering in the silence, and place your hand against it. There is no doorknob, only black iron bound oak, but you get the sense of what is beyond that door: a library full of neatly bound tomes on endless shelves. Each tome a memory from your lives, each shelf a chapter in your saga. You know that you can open this door with a small effort of will, or call any given tome to your hand.

You lower your hand and step back. You are expecting a guest, after all, and it wouldn't do to leave everything messy for Lord Wavethunder's arrival. You stride to the desk, and sort the documents into neat piles. When everything is in place, you look at the other door, the one that leads to places outside your mind. You take a seat facing it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The expected knock comes, although it is distant and tentative, attenuated by the door and you desire for privacy. "Enter Lord Wavethunder."

"I will, If you can open the door. It is your mind, after all, And I'd rather not pry."

"Ah!" You extend your will and the outside door opens. "Come into my 'office' then."

Lord Wavethunder enters and takes a chair opposite you at the desk. "More than one room? Not many manage that feat."

"You may find me more complex than most."

Lord Wavethunder nods. "Indeed. Where to begin?"

You call one tome to your hand. "Perhaps when lady SiDabolo taught me to sing?" Setting it down, you call another tome, "or when I joined Ironbark?" A third tome, "or perhaps The roadside ambush where Ironbark died, and I was reborn?" A fourth tome, "Or the break-in where we rescued the princesses?"

Lord Wavethunder's eyes go wider and wider with each tome. He picks his jaw up off the desk and reaches for the tomes, hesitating. "Can... can you make a copy of these, that I may review them later? I would not seek to take memories from you, nor do I wish to live them as you."

You look at the tomes for a moment. "What form would suit you best?"

"Crystals for a music-player?" Lord Wavethunder gives you an image of small crystal spheres, to be set on top of a brass contraption.

"I can do that, if you can tell me one other thing. Why do you fear Lady SiDabolo so?" You flick a hand at the pile of tomes and start to make shadow copies of them, shaping their contents into delicate crystalline spheres.

Lord Wavethunder strokes his chin. "It's not the lady we fear, it's her father. Aemon SiDabolo, called the Sadist, the Priest of the Hourglass, the High Lord of Shadows. Probably the single most powerful mortal spellcaster ever. Nobody wants to piss him off."

You place the first of four spheres before Lord Wavethunder. "And the fastest way to piss off a father is to go for his daughter. So why would he leave her living alone in that tower for so long? I know of no story that ever tells of her having company or visitors."

"Perhaps it is her retreat, a place where she can be on her own? I'll have to have someone look into that, my attention has been firmly focused at home of late."

You place the second sphere next to the first. "Trying to clean house?"

Lord Wavethunder nods, "exactly. I think I've got all of the cultists either identified or dead, but..."

You finish the third sphere. "It's the ones operating alone that you worry about. The ones none of their fellows know about, and so can't tell you about. But you have a bigger problem looming on the horizon."

Lord Wavethunder laughs. "What bigger problem could there be than the health and safety of the King?"

You set the fourth and final sphere down with the other three. "The succession."

Lord Wavethunder's face goes pale. "Elfyr told you about that?"

You nod. "We discussed it some. Your Queen may be stronger than you think, but she cannot stand alone. No one can. She will need someone to be the shield at her back against the knives of Lords. She will need people she can trust without reserve to take up command of the Army and Navy. And she will need the shoulder of friends to cry on when she must."

Lord Wavethunder collects the spheres. "And you think you can fill any of those roles?"

You shake your head. "I'm but a human fighter, running up on his nineteenth birthday. I'll only live to be eighty or so, perhaps ninety, if nothing kills me first. You on the other hand Lord, well, you know the difference between reigning and ruling. Guard her back well."

Lord Wavethunder rises and collects the crystal spheres. "If everything comes back as clean as I expect it to, then you'll start Officer's School in a week or so. I'll include a note in your file for classes in Elvish and ritual magic. Wouldn't do for your potential to go to waste. Close the door behind me, and guard it well."

"I will."

Lord Wavethunder leaves, and you seal the door. You glance about the familiar office one more time, then close your eyes to let reality re-establish itself.

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Status Report:

Money: 5 Gold coins

Food and water: 10 days of hardtack rations

Equipment: in good condition

The Ring: obsidian band with one carbuncle gem and two empty settings

Total Deaths: 1