The airship hummed softly through the early morning sky, gliding above the sprawling treetops of the Consideration Tree Museum. Far below, mist clung to the ground, swirling like restless spirits beneath the colossal trunks. Up here, however, the sky remained clear and crisp, with the rising sun bathing the horizon in soft hues of gold and pink. The quiet serenity felt at odds with the weighty conversation brewing on deck.
Leaning against the railing, Krungus gazed at the endless stretch of wilderness ahead. His regal attire, newly restored and immaculate, did little to hide the heaviness in his posture. Despite his outward appearance, an unspoken weariness clung to him. Lost in thought, the distant hum of the ship seemed to mirror his own drifting contemplation, until a familiar voice broke through.
“She means a great deal to you, doesn't she?” The steady groan of B’doom’s deep voice carried an undeniable weight, each word measured with care. Standing beside him, the druid’s moss-covered robes fluttered gently in the wind, arms crossed as he watched the horizon. “Utopianna.”
A slow exhale escaped Krungus. “Yes. She did. She does.” His voice, quieter than usual, lacked its customary edge of sarcasm or irritation. “More than I ever admitted to myself, or to her.” The staff in his hand tapped absently against the deck. “And she was... distraught when I disappeared?”
The druid’s solemn nod confirmed it. “More than anyone. She and Sharrzaman... they were different after you vanished. But her especially.” His words trailed off momentarily, as if sifting through long-buried memories. “She taught me much in our time together. Healing, balance—things I once dismissed as frivolous. I don’t think she ever truly recovered from losing you.”
Krungus turned, scrutinizing his old friend with sharp eyes. “You say that like you know where she is.”
“I don’t,” B’doom admitted, glancing down. His fingers brushed lightly over the intricate carvings on his staff. “I wish I did. The last I saw her was... millennia ago. She withdrew from everything—the City, what remained of the Number, even us.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “She said she needed space, that she was going to find peace somewhere beyond it all. And I believed her.”
A snort escaped Krungus. “That sounds like her. Always chasing something beyond the chaos, as if peace could just be sitting around in some quiet corner of the world.” His grip on the staff tightened. “She should’ve known better.”
The druid’s eyes remained locked on the distant horizon. “Perhaps she did. Or perhaps losing you made her seek something that wasn’t real.”
A silence settled between them, filled only by the steady thrumming of the airship’s engines. Further down the deck, Eugene and Qlaark sat engaged in their own conversation, oblivious to the quiet tension between the two older men. Their shared memories formed an invisible barrier, isolating them from the present moment.
After a long pause, B’doom sighed. “I don’t think she would’ve stopped searching for you. Even if she left, I’d wager part of her still hoped you’d come back.”
A humorless chuckle followed. “I wish I had that kind of faith in people.” Krungus turned his gaze back to the sky, eyes narrowing in thought. “She was always the best of us, you know? Sharrzaman and I were too busy competing, Bahumbus too busy tinkering. But Utopianna... she had perspective.”
A faint smile tugged at B’doom’s lips. “She did.”
Krungus rubbed his temples and let out a weary sigh. “So. No leads. Just a pile of old memories.”
After a moment’s contemplation, B’doom gave a slow nod. “For now. But if anyone knows where she might be, it’s not us.”
A frown crossed Krungus’ face. “Then who?”
A faint twinkle appeared in B’doom’s eyes, as if a long-buried thought had finally surfaced. “Little Sister.”
The groan that followed was heavy with reluctance. “Ugh. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” A hand dragged down his face in frustration.
“She was always closer to Utopianna than any of us,” B’doom pointed out with a small chuckle. “If anyone would know where she might’ve gone, it’s her.”
Thoughtfully stroking his beard, Krungus considered the idea. “Little Sister’s not exactly... approachable.”
“Neither are you,” came the dry response.
A smirk tugged at Krungus’ lips despite himself. “Fair point.” He tapped his staff against the deck once more. “We’ll track her down after we get back to the tower. Assuming she hasn’t completely fallen off the map.”
“If she doesn’t want to be found, it won’t be easy,” B’doom warned.
A low, dark chuckle escaped Krungus. “When is it ever?”
The conversation lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Further down the deck, Eugene awkwardly attempted to lift Qlaark’s spirits—his efforts falling flat but still earnest. Watching the scene, Krungus allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
“You know,” he mused, “I think she’d like Eugene. He’s... persistent. And honestly, he’s adjusting to this world pretty well.”
“She always had a soft spot for the persistent ones,” B’doom agreed, following his gaze with a faint smile.
Krungus leaned on the railing, eyes drifting over the clouds as the airship hummed along steadily. “Bahumbus hasn’t changed much,” he remarked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Still hiding in plain sight, still tinkering with things that don’t need tinkering.”
With arms crossed over his broad chest, B’doom grunted. “So you did find him.” Though his eyes remained fixed on the horizon, interest flickered beneath the surface. “And?”
A shake of the head accompanied Krungus’ quiet chuckle. “He’s been holed up in the city all this time. Set up shop right under everyone’s noses—clever as ever, layering enchantments over his workshop so thick even I had trouble sniffing him out.” His staff tapped rhythmically against the deck. “It’s a blacksmith shop now. You’d never know it was him if you weren’t looking.”
Laughter rumbled from B’doom’s chest. “Hah. That sounds about right.” Shifting his weight, he shot a sideways glance. “What’s he been up to? I assume he’s not just hammering horseshoes and making kitchen knives.”
“Not exactly.” Krungus waved a hand vaguely. “He’s still... Bahumbus. Messing with things he shouldn’t, inventing gods-know-what, and generally staying one step ahead of his own paranoia.”
A pause. “Lately, he’s been experimenting with magical implants—functional, practical ones.” Krungus gestured toward Eugene, who stood in the corner, staring intently at his palm. “Put one in him, actually.”
“Implants?” B’doom’s brow furrowed in concern.
“Yeah,” Krungus confirmed. “Tiny arcane devices that act like an interface for the mind. They show stats, item values, even track health and magick reserves.” His gaze lingered on Eugene, who seemed completely absorbed in whatever nonsense his interface was feeding him. “It’s more advanced than anything we had back in the day.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
B’doom raised an eyebrow. “And you let him put that in someone’s head?”
A smirk tugged at Krungus' lips. “Oh, it wasn’t my head, so it didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time.”
Rolling his eyes, B’doom muttered, “Still reckless.”
With a nonchalant shrug, Krungus continued, “He’s also got his own little army of constructs. Calls them ‘sentries.’ They’re good—damn good. When he showed up out of nowhere with them during that whole... hooded figure incident, I almost felt impressed.” A chuckle followed. “Almost.”
A thoughtful hand ran down B’doom’s chin. “So... Bahumbus is still preparing for the worst.”
“That’s why he didn’t come with us.” Krungus mimicked Bahumbus’ voice with a gravelly tone, “‘I can’t leave the city right now, Krungus! The timeline is delicate!’” He shook his head. “Typical.”
A snort escaped B’doom. “And you believed him?”
A long sigh followed. “I believe he thinks what he’s doing is important. Whether it actually is... well, we’ll see. But he’s still Bahumbus, and that means he’s still useful.”
A knowing smile crossed B’doom’s face. “Let me guess—he still won’t admit that he enjoys being involved?”
“Not in a thousand lifetimes.” Krungus looked over with a sly grin. “Remember our old saying?”
A grin spread across B’doom’s face. “Oh yeah. ‘Bahumbus will fix anything... as long as you don’t ask him to.’”
Laughter broke the tension, a rare moment of levity shared between the two.
Leaning back against the railing, B’doom exhaled slowly. “I’ll admit, it’s good to hear he’s still around. He always had a way of making impossible things... work.”
“He’ll come around. He always does.” Krungus tapped his temple with a glint in his eye. “Just needs a little... nudging.”
“And you’re just the wizard to do it,” B’doom said with a smirk.
“Exactly.”
The wind whipped around them as they stood in comfortable silence, their gazes drawn to the distant sprawl of the City of Cities coming into view. The rhythmic hum of the ship’s engines provided a steady backdrop to their thoughts.
B’doom cast a sideways glance. “And what about the others?”
A heavy sigh came in response. “Little Sister’s next on the list. But let’s take things one headache at a time, shall we?”
The air carried the faint sounds of life from below as the two leaned on the ship’s railing, the horizon stretching endlessly before them. The gentle hum of the ship seemed to settle into a rhythm of its own, matching their steady contemplation.
Krungus, wearing a thoughtful smirk, tapped his staff lightly against the deck, the rhythmic thud-thud breaking the quiet hum of the air around them. “You know, I was thinking about Horsh’s Paradox the other day.”
B’doom’s mossy brow furrowed, deep lines appearing like old riverbeds. “Horsh’s Paradox? You mean that ancient nonsense about the boxes we used to argue about?”
A grin spread across Krungus’ face, his eyes glinting with mischief. “The very same. And, might I add, you were always wrong about it.”
B’doom crossed his thick arms over his chest, his mossy robes rustling slightly as he shifted his weight. “Wrong?” he rumbled, his voice like stone scraping against stone. “I’ve always been on the right side of things. You were the one stuck in the illusion of control.”
Krungus pointed a finger at him, shaking his head. “Control isn’t an illusion. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” Rolling his shoulders, he leaned in slightly. “Alright, let’s go through it again. The setup is simple—there’s a wizard, let’s call him... oh, Horsh.”
Chuckling, B’doom shook his head. “Fitting.”
Krungus continued, his tone settling into one of lecture-like precision. “Horsh presents you with two chests. Chest A—you can see right inside it, and it always contains exactly a thousand gold coins. No tricks, no surprises. Chest B, however, is a mystery.” He paused for effect. “It could contain ten thousand gold coins... or absolutely nothing.”
B’doom nodded, but said nothing.
Krungus twirled his staff absentmindedly. “Now, here’s where things get interesting. Horsh has an uncanny ability—he can predict your decision with near-perfect accuracy. If he predicts you’ll take only Chest B, he fills it with the ten thousand gold coins. But if he predicts you’ll take both chests, he leaves Chest B empty.”
B’doom exhaled through his nose. “And you’re standing there, knowing all this, facing the chests.”
“Exactly,” Krungus said, gesturing dramatically. “The question is simple: Do you take only Chest B, trusting Horsh’s prediction skills and potentially walking away with ten thousand gold? Or do you play it safe, take both, and guarantee yourself at least a thousand coins... but risk getting nothing extra?”
Sighing deeply, B’doom sounded like old wisdom and mild exhaustion. “You act as though I don’t remember this whole thing like it was yesterday. You take the second, Krungus.”
Krungus grinned. “Ah, but why, old friend? That’s the crux of it.”
B’doom tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Because if Horsh’s predictions are perfect, and you take both chests, it means he already knew you’d do it and left the second chest empty. Taking both is a fool’s play.”
Krungus clapped his hands together. “Ah, but therein lies the paradox, my dear B’doom! The so-called rational mind argues that the contents of Chest B were determined before you ever made your choice. If it's empty, it’s empty, and taking Chest A is just free money. It’s logical to grab it.”
B’doom frowned. “But if you believe Horsh’s predictions are truly accurate, you shouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking both.”
Krungus pointed his staff toward him triumphantly. “Exactly! That’s the essence of the paradox—do you trust the wizard’s ability to know you better than you know yourself, or do you rely on your own agency? If you take both, it suggests you never truly believed in his predictive power in the first place.”
B’doom sighed. “It’s an argument between determinism and free will. You’ve always been obsessed with this.”
Krungus chuckled. “Of course! Because it matters. Do we act freely, or are our choices just illusions dancing on a preordained path?” He tapped his temple. “If Horsh really can predict my every move, then my choice was never a choice at all.”
The druid scratched at his beard of vines, contemplating. “But if you take only Chest B, you’re acknowledging his power... essentially admitting you never had control to begin with.”
Krungus nodded sagely. “Yes, but isn’t it better to win with certainty than lose with doubt?”
B’doom waved a hand dismissively. “You put too much faith in the unseen.”
“And you put too much faith in guarantees,” Krungus countered. “The truth is, it’s all about how you perceive the game. If you take both chests, you're treating the prediction as a guess, something you can outthink. If you take only Chest B, you’re accepting that, in some way, your decision was always set in stone.”
B’doom’s eyes narrowed. “So what would you do, Krungus?”
The wizard grinned slyly. “I’d take Chest B.”
The pachyrin shook his head. “You always were an optimist.”
Krungus leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not an optimist, my friend... just someone who knows that sometimes, trust is the best gamble of all.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from B’doom’s chest. “Well, if Horsh ever shows up again, I’ll be sure to watch you lose all your gold.”
Krungus laughed, tapping his staff once more against the deck. “Then at least I’d have the satisfaction of knowing I stayed true to the paradox.”
The two of them sat in a comfortable silence, the weight of choice and fate hanging between them like the distant stars overhead.
With a sigh of mock exasperation, Krungus muttered, “No wonder you spent all those years in a forest.”
“And no wonder you spent yours locked in a box,” B'doom shot back with a grin.
They shared a long laugh, the tension between them easing. For the second time in ages, Krungus felt a little lighter. After a moment, Krungus looked back up B'doom and smiled, "I can't believe the Eternal Bloom will be here so soon."
B'doom gave a look of horror.