It was starting to look like Rhode had made some Oversights, all with big ol’, capital ‘O’s.

What was the very first conversation that Rhode had had in this world? It wasn’t on the day he was born. He’d been speaking English, and they weren’t. If he thought about it clearly, it actually wasn’t until later that his mind had processed his own memory of the event and understood what Junior Scholar Rikva and the healer had been saying.

No. After being born, the very first individual that Rhode had spoken with had been jewelry with sentience. And [Status] Bangle? [Status] Bangle invaded minds. Rhode should have spent more time thinking about that. It had worried him, true. He had allowed himself to fear being controlled or manipulated by magic.

But he hadn’t really wanted to dwell on the possibility that he already had been.

Rhode had counted that he’d been alive for eighteen days in total. Three asleep for [Bellows], three more after the fight. And twelve that he remembered, while he was sick and when he’d slept.

When exactly had he learned that Rikva loved games of cards and dice? Because he’d played her. Not just once, but several times. And how long had the Hornupants been watching over him? He knew the schedule: there was an acolyte on every single one of his shifts. They had been his first healers, tending to him long before Eloft had even arrived. Surely he’d spoken with them? When had he gossiped so much with the washer woman? Or with the porters, and servants too?

Because he had.

So, Rhode felt his mouth salivate, and a chill unsettled his gut. “How long ago did I get summoned? For real?” he asked as his voice cracked.

“Ser Reliance, We are beginning to exceed our schedule for this appointment,” The Second Prince ignored his Hero, “We are due for further arrangements. Expect Our pronouncement today of a total lock-down of this facility. None shall pass into or out of the palace for the duration of one week.”

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“Seriously,” Rhode repeated, more urgently. “When did I get here?”

The knight stepped in to box Rhode out of the conversation. “Your Grace, this will be difficult to enforce.”

“Impossible, for anything but the shortest duration. We had hoped not to burden the First Princess with the particulars of this Project. But she will doubtless learn of Our success soon,” The Prince stepped towards his knight. In the most benign, yet threatening action Rhode might have ever seen, Llanthinanumen reached over and adjusted the sash of his subordinate. “Assuming, of course, that Her agents are not already here.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Ser Reliance gulped.

“There was the time we ate the red-bean pudding. There was the night we played Liquor and Lumberjacks. When did I get my plants?” Rhode grappled his own skull, hands on his temples and racking his brain for answers.

“Goodman Irving, We will have your answer,” The Prince declared. The slightest of his motions bid his knight to step back. “Thus, We re-frame your choice. Imagine in your secret hopes, exactly what you need most in order to escape Us. What is it that you think you need to be free?”

Rhode’s hands fell to his sides, his eyes were wild. “You’ll let me go?”

“No. But you must continue to believe that it is possible to flee.”

Was this some kind of reverse psychology? Was it torture? Was it a test? Rhode tried to think of what he wanted. He tried to think of what he needed. He was still too weak. Physically strong, maybe. But he had already experienced how easily the strength of flesh could be surmounted by levels. So what else? The Hero needed advantages, and more than that, he needed options.

“You’re serious?” Rhode asked, hesitantly. “I could ask for anything?”

It was Ser Reliance who nodded. “Not all would be granted, but I encourage you to ask. Fear nothing you might say to me.”

The homunculus trusted nothing. He could rely on nothing. A pit was open inside of him, and it was swallowing up all of his joy. He laughed out loud and it was hollow. But if he was lost already, what did it matter? He thought about where he was; about what he had seen. He let himself wonder what was possible, if he could only stop being afraid.

“Then can I learn magic?” he asked.

And then suddenly it was like every shadow had set aside its daggers, and every door became unbarred. The weight on his shoulders was lifted, and Rhode swayed on his feet.

“This can be arranged,” Reliance promised with a dawning smile.

Relief washed over him as he even saw the Prince incline his head. But then Rhode made another awful mistake: the monster asked for more.

“And I’ve been having a problem with my knees; pain when I try to jog or run,” he added. “Is that fixable?”

Llanthinanumen’s smile grew wide, and Rhode saw inside at his sickeningly white, flat teeth. “That will be simpler,” the Prince declared.

The homunculus felt like he could weep. He had made it. He had avoided the worst. He would survive.

“Fetch the surgeons,” spoke the Vodyonoi, “for the Hero must yet Level and grow. We anticipate your progress, Goodman Irving of Urth. Now –”

[Serve

And

Forget]