I couldn't help feeling a little envious of my friends.

They were, first and foremost, adventurers. They spent their days mostly training their Skills, or undertaking quests that trained their Skills, or using the coin thus earned to pay for training and equipment. Their lives, Paths, and goals all aligned neatly together. Multi-classing did not change that; Hannah and Tom both just worked to become different kinds of adventurers. Even helping me with Nailla and Duni fell under the same umbrella category, but with the added bonus of their most reluctant, least experienced teammate voluntarily joining them for field training.

Meanwhile, here I was, floundering between my many different goals and responsibilities. If it were only a matter of Skills, or my present neglect thereof, I would not be unduly concerned. We who were the greatest students of Skills were also the least devoted to them.

But no... my trouble was that I had ever so much I wanted to do. I was, in a word, in my mentor's word, unfocused.

The first step was acknowledging I had a problem, right? Surely I just needed to sit down and think things through, and I would discover I'd overlooked some easy solution. For example, if I had too many issues vying for my time and attention... then wouldn't it greatly help to gain [Multitasking]? Yes, the Skill typically took concerted effort over a decade -- not to mention its notoriety for restarting the count due to a single lapsed day -- but that was just one idea, my very first one.

Surely... surely there would be more...

I proceeded to consider and dismiss a whole slew of Skills, to brainstorm other solutions, and even to look up recent research on the Dungeon of Time, before I was forced to admit there was no one Skill or set of Skills, at least none within reach, that could solve all my problems. I would just need to become a better, more decisive person on my own.

In the morning, I would start a list of everything that needed doing. And then I'd work out a sustainable schedule to manage my numerous interests...

As if to mock my new resolve, after a good night's sleep I went to the library bright and early, hoping to take charge of my newest day, only to discover Learned Westwick was already waiting for me. More precisely, his return message indicated where to find him and that we 'should talk as soon as possible.' I didn't remember him ever replying faster than Senior Grace before, or requesting such an early meeting; I had secretly, shamefully hoped that he would take his time responding as usual.

I wondered if his ominous wording was intentional.

However, upon my arrival at the reserved private room, Learned Westwick wasted no time preparing to leave while informing me he would be busy for an indefinite period.

"I've been inspired to work on a new Book. When I'm in one of these moods, I cannot tolerate interruptions or distractions," he said, and indeed he appeared harried and impatient, like he'd been interrupted on his way to rushing out the door. "I'll be out of touch until I'm done. Oh, here are the Books I mentioned before, the ones I wrote?"

He indicated three Books: [Basic Scribe], [Scribe], and [Enhanced Scribe]. "No [Intermediate Scribe]?" I asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Funny. Precisely the Book that has so struck me with inspiration. And you, how is your [Basic Empathy] coming along?"

I winced. "Um..."

He nodded distractedly, clearly wishing to be gone. "Do you have any other immediate questions?"

"Not for now. Thank you for your concern, and... good writing?"

With a relieved nod, he was off, leaving me with three Books to marvel over and, considerately, his book carrier.

On second thought, I recognized the wisdom of ensuring I had the means to handle such precious artifacts with due care. Not so long ago the sight of one of these Books would have stopped me in my tracks, and even now, I regarded them with reverent appreciation. I was touched that Learned Westwick would entrust them to me so easily.

Struck by curiosity, I reached for the Book for [Basic Scribe], apparently the first Book he had ever created, and also to this day one of the nearest and dearest to his heart. The cover was striking, red lined with gold and pulsing with potential like an egg on the verge of hatching, and I lifted the cover with the feeling of prying open that single crack.

Perhaps I was influenced by my knowledge of my teacher. I had to be. He had confessed that Books for him were grand adventures, and he was particularly enchanted with the idea of flying on dragons. That was why the closed Book seemed to me a dragon's egg, and the experience...

"But you said your experience was of a dungeon," I'd said.

"An adventure to fling wide the doors of the imagination, but not how I came to see Scribe," he'd said. "In my view, great craftsmanship is necromantic. What we seek to bring to life has lived once already in our minds, and now we are left raising the bones, filling in the skeletons of our great visions. Crossing the worlds, pulling what we have dreamed up in one into our physical world."

I had been easily charmed at first by this view. But then as I'd thought on it further, I had developed reservations. "That sounds... like a load of expectations."

"Just so." He'd sighed. "To weave living lizards from Skills and paper is to be cheered as a great and successful practitioner. But to say, 'Here lies a mighty dragon; behold, though I have failed to animate it, from its bones I have brought forth this lizard,' that is significantly less impressive."

"... Some people like lizards?"

"Yes. But I want to fly with dragons."

It could be no coincidence that was what his Book felt like to me. I thought I truly understood what he'd meant when he'd said the soul was to the body as the imagination was to art; my physical body sat and studied a Book, while I felt like my soul was in a whole new world.

"Why dragons?" I had asked.

"Why not dragons?" he had said.

And I had understood from him, not his words, that it was a childish fancy, a lightning bolt of inspiration, a whimsical want that somehow stayed true through the years.

This was what his Book sang to me: a child's enjoyment of adventure, of soaring high up into the sky on the back of something greater.

I knew, because of Learned Westwick, that what I clung to was meant to be this most famous of magical beasts, that this uplift and glide was meant to imitate flight. But it was his first Book, and possibly his inexperience showed; I felt the form beneath me as not entirely solid, and the air flowed past far too fast, with far too little resistance. I thought if I had picked up the Book without knowing its author, I would be confused indeed -- and possibly more so if I were new to the Skill? -- which in turn made me wonder how much I'd missed in the previous Books I'd studied.

Learned Westwick was right about forming an emotional connection through his creative medium. I thought I knew him in a different, more intimate way from sharing his Book. He was a dreamer who sought to fly, to share that experience of flight, but also to return his feet to the ground. He was the boy who'd dreamed and refused to give up on that dream.

I wondered how I could make my own future Book tie together disparate parts of me. After all, Empathy was arguably the cause of my current troubles with too many tasks, too little time. But for my natural affinity, I would probably be at peace reading and studying within the protected library walls. I would still love to engage in field research, but perhaps I'd wait for a proposal's approval and thus Executive bodyguards.

After such personal introspection, I truly intended to productively work on my Book, currently a mangled mess of magic, ink, and paper without pretensions.

But there shining lay Learned Westwick's Books, finished masterpieces all, and I couldn't turn away. Surely reading would grant me more insights into Bookmaking or Learned Westwick...?

Yes, each Book became more detailed, and my understanding also grew more nuanced. He had poured himself into these pages, I was sure of it...

A throat clearing jarred me from inspecting the Books a second time. I blinked up and then startled at the sight of Senior Grace frowning at me. This was not an unusual sight, but I nevertheless snatched my hand back and straightened in my seat instinctively.

"You requested this meeting," she said.

"Yes..." I glanced at the time and swallowed. My stomach churned with a peculiar mixture of guilt, self-ridicule, and defiance, but I had to try: "Could we postpone for the moment?"

"So you can keep reading Books rather than work on your own?"

No, not... exactly. I couldn't help protesting: "This is valuable research!"

"Really? What have you learned?"

I flushed before offering lamely, "Passion is important? Um. Write what you dream?"

"You didn't approach the Books as another creator or even a critic," she said; though her tone was one of accusation, she felt... resigned? "We have all encountered this trap. Listen well, because this is advice learned from my own mentor, bless her soul."

Her tone was grave. I could only nod.

"Avoid reading other Books except for study, and even then seek to distance yourself. I know how truly difficult this is for any great lover of Books. But right now, it is too easy for you to stumble off your own starting Path as a writer, lured by the surer footing of others. To see their relative strengths and experiences to the detriment of your own. Admire another's artistry, but do not let yourself fall under their spell."

I could tell she was sincere, even though after giving it a bit of thought, I didn't fully agree with her. And despite her harshness, she was a good teacher. So I said, "Thank you," sincerely, and: "I will take your advice to heart. Um, about our lessons, I was actually thinking..."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

As expected, Senior Grace lacked much sympathy (or grace) regarding my 'so little time' difficulty. But she approved of the one hopefully productive idea that I'd had to slightly address the issue, which was to constantly carry around and work on one Scroll-in-progress at a time.

This should be as difficult as it sounded -- imagine picking up and putting down work all day, every day -- but that very difficulty might help me train both [Intermediate Scribe] and [Multitasking], neither of which could help me in the short run, but I was sure my future self would thank me.

Senior Grace never asked what else I was busy with, but I was still surprised she took my explanation and suggestion in stride so readily. "Um... This is fine with you?"

"It is your life, girl," she said flatly. "And it is more important you do your work every day than how much time you put in."

Was she doubting I could stay on track? We were to only meet briefly each day to check my progress unless I proved incapable of meeting our agreed goals; if I did well, we could meet even less frequently. With no disrespect intended, I thought I would have plenty of motivation for working productively. She might be an old lady with wrinkles and cataracts, but... she scared me. And reminded me a little of my grandmother. I could exhaust myself meeting her strict demands, or well up with guilt avoiding her, or just admit I wasn't capable of the necessary devotion at this time and call for a compromise.

It was with mingled relief and guilt that I took my leave of Senior Grace to meet my friends. We'd decided to share lunch, though for privacy reasons we opted as usual for a private room in the library.

I thought of raising my current crop of issues, but Bessie started us right off by asking, "Anybody come up with any ideas?"

I had to focus to remember we were talking about helping Duni.

"We should go back soon," Tom said. "Poor thing must be suffering."

He seemed a lot more sympathetic to Duni ever since he was the Core-bearer. I would've suspected he was unnaturally influenced, but he hadn't had any problem with leaving the dungeon.

"I was thinking we could try another artifact like my tent," Hannah said. "But instead of repelling monsters, one that fools people by pretending there's nothing to see."

"Fools Gold-Rankers?" Blake said. "A Gold-Ranked rogue?"

"I think a good ranger's as likely as a rogue to notice something's off."

"You're not helping your case here."

"She has a point though," Tom said. "If we can keep Duni's mana low and make the wall look normal, nobody should look any closer. I think we're giving these Gold-Rankers too much credit; this is business as usual for them, just going in, getting out, and getting paid."

"Exactly!" Hannah said. "They're not expecting to see anything, so they won't find anything."

"Um, actually..." I said, and her shoulders slumped. "Depending on their perception Skills and especially if any are Intermediate, a simple illusion or deflection probably won't work. They should at least be able to notice something seems off."

"Still not paranoid enough." Blake tsk-tsked at Tom, shaking his head.

"So we just need a better artifact," Hannah said.

"You and what treasury?"

Sighs went around the table. I bit my lip but remained silent.

"We could try to make Gold-Ranked ourselves," Bessie said with a forced attempt at enthusiasm. "Then volunteer to check out Duni."

"You... know that's impossible." Hannah eyed her. "We aren't even high Silver. We didn't make it past the team qualifiers!"

"What if we load up with enough artifacts?"

"Like the nobles do, you mean?" Tom raised his brows.

"Again," Blake said, "You and what treasury?"

In the ensuing silence, I remembered that noble speeding by on his airboat. I'd heard Platinum was impossible to break into without the trifecta of natural talent, good luck, and bloody hard work... which suggested Gold should be possible, in theory, without.

"I might..." I hesitated. But since I'd started, I went and finished: "I might know someone who could help us out."

"But?" Tom said.

"But," I concurred, "He is that Merchant I mentioned--"

"The one who doesn't answer his letters?" Bessie said.

"...The same. And he wouldn't really need us at all after the initial introduction. I suppose he might find me useful for talking to Duni... but I expect if we approached him, he would take over regardless. He might buy our silence or cooperation, or he might..."

I trailed off. Bessie said, "So you don't trust him."

"No. Yes. I... It's complicated."

"Well, I'm glad." We all stared at her, but Bessie was grinning in genuine satisfaction. "Options. I started this meeting thinking we'd only have my dumb Gold one, and even I have to admit we would be wasting our credits to try. But now we're growing a whole range of crazy ideas!"

Somehow, this felt like the perfect opening. "Um," I said, "Actually, while we are on the subject of crazy ideas..." Tom groaned. "I could not help thinking of... because of Hellsfell, you know..."

"Demons," Blake said.

"Demons?" Bessie said.

"Demons!" Hannah said.

"It is... just an idea," I said. "A crazy idea?"

"Er... what about demons?" Tom just looked confused. "How could they help?"

"Seriously?" Blake said. "Haven't you heard demons can do anything?"

"Sort of like genies," Hannah said slowly, "But they make deals instead of grant wishes."

"Not everything," I said. "What they do costs power, though I think Duni can help with that, hopefully. No, the problem is... everything else."

"Demons are nasty," Bessie spoke up, "Nasty business. Stay away, do not deal, do not sell your soul."

Tom snorted. "Yeah, I've heard that much. But don't people say the same about dungeons unless you're raiding them?"

To my alarm, they all turned to me as for answers. But then... if they were actually considering this... I realized I did in fact have quite a lot to say. "Um, but Duni is different." I winced at the trite words and clarified: "Demonstrably different."

"Thanks to their anomaly?" Hannah said.

"Yes, because we can help them grow into an upright... a dungeon without hatred for humanity, at least. But also Duni is still innocent. We have had the opportunity to meet them now, when they are young and... moldable, before they have had the chance to become set in their beliefs. Whereas summoned demons are old, ancient. Their species is immortal--"

"Wait, what?" Bessie burst out. "True immortal? That is so unfair! Aren't they also, like, super powerful and keep coming back?"

"And Underworlders are jealous of the advantages of humans," Blake said dryly. "Count your blessings."

"Er... right. Sorry Rena, you were saying?"

"Just... by all accounts, demons see us as short-lived snacks and souls," I said. "The chances we can persuade one to act more sociably are next to nil."

I thought I had expressed myself clearly and logically, so I wasn't sure why what I said felt a bit lacking. I glanced at Bessie, but she was frowning to herself in thought.

"I'm still confused what we want from our possible demon," Tom said.

...Did he have to word it like that?

"I mean, are we talking demon versus demon war against Hellsfell?" He was just joking, but I felt a chill run up my spine. "Or cover that hole and fool those Gold-Rankers?"

"The latter," I said. "Hellsfell has an Archdemon."

"Well why can't we get one?"

I stared at him, but... I couldn't even tell if he was joking anymore. "Duni is a little small right now," I said. "I don't think an Archdemon would even fit. Also, it would probably eat us before we could find out."

He nodded. "So summoning a demon is dangerous?"

My friends all looked curious, and fair enough; I had also wasted a day reading up on demon summonings.

With a sigh, I explained the true cause of so many unintended breakouts was, for group summonings, backstabbing and betrayal, and, for lone summoners trying to avoid this, running out of focus or mana. Of course, I wasn't even done when my friends seemed to lose much of their previously reasonable fear of demon summonings.

It wasn't as though I believed any of us would take a deal to betray the others, no matter what the demon might offer, but... why tempt fate?

"Can it hurt to try?" Bessie asked.

"Um, yes?"

"Right, walked into that one. But look, you said yourself a demon might be able to help Duni, a demon's easy to summon and almost as easy to keep contained, and we can maybe even bribe it with extra mana... and you're not willing to try?"

"The books warn not to," I said. "That everybody thinks they'll be one of the few who can make it work without losing overall, and so statistically speaking, if you think that, you're almost certainly wrong."

"I think Rena's right," Hannah spoke up. "We've all heard the stories. And we don't know anyone with actual experience with demons, do we?"

"Actually," Bessie said, smirking at Tom's groan, "I think we do."

"We... do?"

We all looked at each other, except for Bessie, who rolled her eyes. "Not here, obviously. So, you in?"

----------------------------------------

I was admittedly curious just who this mysterious not-Scholar with demon knowledge might be, so it was a bit of a letdown when Bessie just led us to the Adventurer's Guildhall, and my expectations only sank lower when she stopped and began chatting with the vaguely familiar-looking receptionist at the front desk.

"Do you have a minute? No, no trouble, we were wondering... you will think us silly, but our Scholar said..."

I wasn't really listening, as I'd just realized a significant weakness of my shortcut for remembering names. If I were to Scribe the name of Bessie's conversation partner now, I was liable to confuse it with that of any other receptionist and vice versa. I could Scribe her face, but the same problem applied where I wasn't that skilled at remembering images -- runic circles didn't count; they were more of an expressed language -- so my best on-the-spot solution was to add descriptive details of her appearance and character.

But then I was distracted when the receptionist said, "Oh you can't summon demons here. I mean, you can try, but..."

She smiled beatifically at our confusion. The woman was clearly enjoying herself, as she waited an extra dramatic moment before saying, "Why would you want to, am I right? Also, you'll find you simply cannot contain one in Grimmark."

My thoughts were spinning. "You mean... the circle will not work?"

"That's right, dear."

I'd known demons could be directly freed from their circles by their summoners, building owners, landowners, or anybody else who could claim authority over any part of the containment circle. But I hadn't thought a whole nation would... "Grimmark just grants permission for demons to roam freely?" I said in disbelief. "Why isn't this publicly known?"

"Should it be?" the receptionist asked coolly. "What would you do if your circle failed?"

At least that failure would be obvious from the start, instead of, say, just after completing the spell. "Give up on summoning a demon?" I ventured.

She smirked. "Which gives us one less demon summoner to worry about. And that's why we never get local demon suppression missions; you ask me, every country should do the same. Speaking of, I'm pleasantly surprised your team's come in for this one. You're an Empath, right?"

We all stared at her in blank confusion. Also, did she have a mnemonic Skill?

"...You aren't asking because you're volunteering?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why the sudden interest in demons?"

"We're just curious!" Bessie said. "What mission? When was this?"

"We've received two related reports of a demon sighting," she said, still frowning. "Both were called in around the same time and then independently retracted with believable excuses, but the persons in question have yet to report themselves to any guild. This all happened around four hours ago, they failed to respond on their comm-crystals three hours ago, and we put up the mission two hours ago. It's lower priority for now, but" -- she looked at me pointedly -- "a high-level Empath on the scene should be able to clear the issue right up."

My friends glanced at me. For my part, I just gaped at her.

How had this gone from tentatively looking into demon summoning... to potentially facing a loose demon on the field?

Wait, wait. If she thought an Empath would be so useful... I paled. "You suspect demon possession?"

"That is always a risk dealing with demons, but yes."

"Hold on," Tom said. "Demon possession is a real thing?" We all looked at him. "I mean I've heard stories, but... I thought those were just stories!"

"Some probably were," the receptionist said, sounding exasperated. "You're Silver-Ranked, aren't you? This mission isn't even to subdue, banish, or capture the demon, simply to confirm whether or not there is one. Of course, if you locate and report a demon that's a minimum thousand credit bonus. Each."

She said it like that should settle the matter, but what could I do with extra credits? I was already making more than my required quota. "I... I'm sorry," I said. "I just... don't think I'm ready yet..."

She was giving me a stern look like I was flagrantly refusing my civic duty, and more importantly, I could feel her disappointment washing over me. I shrank back, but then Bessie's hand landed on my shoulder, and she said, "Rena is already working for the guild, which takes up so much of her valuable time. Now I'm not saying she can be bribed, but... you might consider at least sweetening the pot if you want her talked round."

Bessie was smiling, and to my surprise and slight shudder the receptionist smiled back. "I suppose if you make time for such a good and noble cause, I can ask about waiving a week of work."

"She only works weekends anyway, so I suppose you mean... three weeks? Plus another for danger pay?"

They went back and forth for a bit before agreeing to a sliding scale with one week off, minimum, up to four weeks if there really was a demon.

"I haven't agreed to this!" I hissed as we turned away.

"I know," Bessie said. "I was just getting the facts first. Now... should we put it to a team vote?"