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I'll always remember the last time I see Irifan in her courtly office. It’s the only time I can approach that door without feeling at all giddy and fidgety. The one time when it feels completely natural and necessary, like I have a real reason to be there. I'm going there only for myself, and at the same time none of it is for me. No, I don't expect you to get it.

I step up before the tall oak door and rap it with my knuckles, my hand relaxed and not sweaty. When the faint reply to come in carries into my ears, I grip the brass handle without hesitation and excuse myself.

Ka-chang. As always, the door is stiff and heavy, having soaked in the dampness of the winter air.

I stride across the tall room, not in a hurry, my head held high, and on the way I quietly scan the interior with my eyes, to make sure everything is as my memory says it should be. The castle maids have done a good job at keeping the place clear of dust and grime, and the air is fresh.

The long, crimson carpet goes like a bridge across the cold stone floor. The tall, heavy shelves on the sides, loaded full of inherited tomes, none of them the least bit magical. Thick books on economy, on commerce, on ethics, on rhetoric, on agriculture, on logistics. They speak of a character long in the grave. The value of those books today is less in the contents and more in the feelings. Instead of blood, the mistress inherited texts. They're the only link she's got to her real family and identity.

It's not a very homy room. Not one you really want to commit to memory.

Old castles tend to be gloomy and uncomfortable by design. They weren't made for princesses. They were made for ugly, hairy dudes who don't bathe. They were made to withstand siege, to be peppered with javelins and bolts and severed heads. For that, appearing forbidding was the key. Turning a bit chipped and cracked only boosts the credibility factor. If a tower broke off, nobody missed it.

It's a castle like that. That's how I'll remember it.

I walk on to the wide, darkwood office desk, which stands like a battlement under the high window, an insurmountable obstacle between the master and the visitor. A lone flower vase poses on the left corner. In the crystal, dressed in light, rests a clean white blossom. A mountain lily.

I stop a respectful distance from the desk.

Across from me, the Duchess of Orethgon, Irifan Gisele Menneroix, politely sets her fountain pen aside with a questioning look. It's not a scheduled visit. Then again, they rarely are with me. Recognizing the serious air about me, Irifan assumes a more comfortable position in her heavy chair of carved wood, ready to listen to whatever pointless things I’m bringing her this time.

When did I ever deliver any news worth the time of day? Even so, she never once told me to go away, or that it was a bad time. Not now either. Listening to the employees' trivial troubles—that's also the boss's sacred duty.

“Yes, Zero? How may I help you?”

I’ve been doing some serious ruminating these past few years.

A lot of quiet chewing. Brown study. Racking brains.

About a lot of things.

Living on the edge—it stimulates the contemplative side in your brain, it does. It helps put things into perspective. Wise people say it’s better to try and regret, than regret never trying, and being constantly exposed to mortal peril sure drives the point home.

What are the things you'd really hate to leave undone?

What are the words that you can't let go unsaid?

What do you want to make clear about your life, and what's better to leave a mystery?

Moreover, knowing how dying in the line of duty grants you a quick and easy exit from any guilt and shame makes it seem less bad if things don't pan out right. Sooner or later, the embarrassment will go away. Now that's a comforting thought, like no other. When I realized that, my mind was made up.

Today, I'll be selfish.

So I look directly at Irifan and say,

——“You know, I’ve always loved you.”

Not pausing to wait for an answer, I carry on,

“Yeah. Not in the platonic sense. Not the kind of love you feel for a good leader, or a friend, or a member of the same family, or the mother I never had. It's nothing noble like that. Well, there may be a bit of that mixed in too, for sure, but it’s more than just that. I love you every way a human loves another human. The moment I first saw you, I thought you were all the good things in the world, and I wanted you then. Over time, I got to know you a little better, and started to see why you do what you do, and how much it means to everyone. And I saw how you stretch yourself thin trying to do the impossible. There were times I thought you were crazy, that you were wasting your one and only life. But that was because of love too. How much I wanted you never changed. No, I wanted you even more.”

I pause for a beat to smile at my big speech.

How immensely heavy and hard the words seemed before, and how lightly they come now.

Why did I ever think somebody else could teach me how to do this? It's something you can only do when you're entirely you.

“I want to get closer to you. I want to get filthy with you. I want to see you smile and I want to see you cry. I want to see the faces you never show anybody else. I don’t only want to hear you say thanks; I want to hear you swear and complain. Be selfish and greedy and unfair. The things you like, the things you hate and can’t stand—I want to know all of them. And I want to make you happy. How could I do that? I cooked up the wildest plans. If the King was your enemy, then I thought I'd go and assassinate the King. But you wouldn’t have wanted that. I thought about running away and taking you with me, but you deserve a better life than the one on the road. The life defined by poverty, cheap motels, crap food, and riding sores. I thought I'd take you to Amarno and have you live among the immortals, surrounded by light and beauty and luxury like nothing you've ever seen before. But, staying too long on that side kind of drives ordinary humans crazy, and I don't think you'd enjoy your time there.”

At the end of the day, humans can't live without humans.

Being an alien in a foreign world, truly belonging nowhere—that's my whole life. I'm used to that already.

But I can tell it doesn't work the same way for others. So I'll have to be the one to bend.

“You know, I asked everyone for tips. They told me just doing my job right was enough. It was the most any of us could do. And maybe it is—for you. But that's not enough for me. Nowhere close. I can't help but keep asking for more. So, in the end, all I’ve got to give you is this: all my life and all my time. So. Now that you know, would you mind telling me this, Irifan: what is it that you really want for yourself?”

I’m not sure I managed to say everything I wanted to say, but I think I got the main points across.

Finished, I stand quietly and wait for the answer.

For what feels like a small lifetime, Irifan stares at me in silence, not moving a muscle, hardly blinking, and looks somewhat overwhelmed. Many times, she almost starts to say something, but then changes her mind. She looks away, chewing her lip, and weighs her words with care. Seeing it, I’m already satisfied. She didn't brush me off, or make a joke of it, but actually took the time to consider it seriously.

What more could you ask for? Maybe I really have become an adult now?

Finally, she looks me in the eye and presents what I hope is her honest answer.

“Zero—I’m sorry, but I can't answer your feelings.”

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Well, that was clear.

I close my eyes, breathe quietly in, and let the words sink in like the paralyzing venom of a particularly nasty bug.

“You're all very dear to me,” Irifan says. “Irreplacable. It would be simple to call you my family—the only family I have in the world—and leave it at that. But I’m afraid it’s not that easy. As much as I trust and treasure you, we are also allies fighting for a common cause. I cannot ever even give you the familial love that you deserve, and do you know why?”

She sits with her hands on her lap, downcast, looking very small in her big chair and answers her own question,

“Because it’s my job as your leader to send you to die. The work we do is very dangerous, as you well know. Every time I give you your orders, it could be the last time we see each other. I'm only a weak human, Zero. A mortal of very modest measure. If I ever stopped to think about things any closer, if I ever recognized just how much each of you means to me, how much I love you all—I wouldn’t be able to do this a day more. The Order of the Covenant would cease to exist. There would be no one to help the many, many suffering people out there in the world. No one to hear their quiet prayers. No one to punish the sins of tyrants. Perhaps the world itself might come to an end.”

“...”

“Then what if one of you became something more than family to me? What if I began to see you as something more important than our planet and all the other people in it? What if I began to think it'd be fine to let others die, just so that we could be together? What would become of us? I’m not strong like you, Zero. I can’t channel my passion into strength. I have no such confidence or ability. If it ever came to a choice between what has to be done and the person I love, I don't believe I could make the right call anymore. I'd be sure to lose to my passion and let you all down. It mustn't ever come to that. Becoming the weakest link is the one final mistake no leader is allowed to make. Too much depends on my ability to choose not out of love, but out of necessity, what’s best and fair for all. Which is why—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Irifan bows her head in apology.

“...”

It’s strange.

No tears come. I thought it would hurt more.

I mean, it does hurt, a lot—and not only because I got turned down, but also because of the reason it had to happen. But at the same time, half of me is relieved. In fact, I find myself smiling.

Yes, at the end of the day, Irifan is still Irifan. Time may pass and things may change, but she’s still the boss. I knew I could count on her to make the right choice and tell me what I needed to hear. That's precisely what I love about her.

And with this, I’m ready to throw my life away.

I shouldn’t linger and make this any more awkward, but my legs are still too shaky to support steady walking.

To buy some extra time to recover, I decide to wrap up with a spot of small talk.

“So...I take it pity sex is off the table?”

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The following day, I ride out, only slightly hungover.

I leave home without a ceremony or extended goodbyes, to carry out my duty as a defender of justice. The winds of winter blow cool from the mountains and meet the more mellow sea air from the west, creating this bizarre mixed whirlpool of warm and cold waves that makes you feel feverish even at full health. The most fit companion to your big head.

I take my time riding the slushy highway to the small border vale between the western hills, where Master Teresina’s protective boundary ends, marked by conical piles of stones. Her ward interferes with the rituals of other casters, but once outside the line, I’ll be able to conjure a portal to skip the rest of the trip. No more airship rides for me, thanks.

Nearing the limits of the Duchy, I turn an unwilling look over my shoulder to the second rider a short distance behind.

“You got something to say?”

Master Endol is uncharacteristically quiet today.

As a matter of fact, he hasn’t uttered a sound this whole time since we left, trailing after me on his white stallion.

“And what do you wish me to tell you, Zero?” the Sage now answers, the stoic look on his face no different from the usual. “You want me to apologize? You want me to admit that you were right and I was wrong, that your chosen course was the most effective one? Perhaps you think I ought to beg for your forgiveness, for wounding your pride?”

“Umm, maybe?”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, really.

“I do not believe I have been mistaken on any point thus far,” he says. “How you still live is a wonder, not wisdom. And the true consequences of your choice that day have yet to reveal themselves. Whether you did well to throw aside our guiding principles, or cast the first stone to unleash an avalanche, is now for history to decide.”

“You know, if it’s very hard face-to-face, I’m totally okay with getting it in writing too.”

As I thought, talking to this guy is a massive waste of time.

Once past the invisible boundary, I rein in, climb off the saddle, and give my steed a light slap on the rear to send it cantering back home. Where I’m going, there’s no use for horses, and the people don't like poop on the streets.

I look up to the sky to confirm the positions of the stars. They might be too far buried in the blue to be seen, to ordinary people, but not to my eyes. The coordinates confirmed, I gesture a bit with my hands and fingers, and draw open the Gate of Light directly to District 00.

Still in the saddle, Master Endol hovers some twenty paces away, like I’m giving off a particularly foul smell.

I give him another questioning look. What's he waiting for? A formal invitation?

“You coming, or not?”

“Thank you kindly for the offer,” he answers, “but I have a prior engagement with Master Gideon, who awaits me in Bendehol. There are various things I must needs relay to him. I would also prefer the Lord Commander was not informed of my presence in her city. Thus, we must part ways here.”

“Well, suit yourself.” I shrug and turn to pass through the Gate.

Then his voice calls my feet to stop.

“Zero.”

“What?” I turn back again in open annoyance. “Could you make it quick? This is a wormhole in spacetime, you know? I can’t keep it open all day.”

He does manage to keep it exceptionally succinct.

“You must know that the path you have elected leads you to Yaoldabath. And your death. The moment you stepped into public with your own name, that destiny was sealed.”

“Awesome.”

“I understand we are past the point where my lessons mean much to you, but could you bring yourself to accept this one last word of counsel from your old teacher?”

I sigh and toss my hands. You have to humor the elderly. I do think he flatters himself too much, if he thinks I still hold a grudge over him abandoning me to bears back forever ago. I'm not a total bitch, okay? I can take responsibility for my own choices, thank you. That doesn't mean I like him a lot—but then again, I didn't like him to begin with, so whatever. As far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed.

“I’m all ears, my Master,” I tell him, only slightly sarcastically.

With formal permission, the Sage opens his mouth.

“You should be aware that ordinary mortals cannot cast the Gate of Light.”

“Huh?”

I wondered what was going to come out, but I didn't expect that.

“Warp magic is a high tier mystery the information load of which the human brain cannot possibly endure.”

“But—but granny...”

“Master Teresina can inscribe the formula, but is unable to cast it herself. But you did it after only two summers of study. And now you have crossed the ocean barrier, which not even emiri scholars have been able to achieve, employing starlight. A component not of this world nor its rules.”

“...What? What does that mean?”

Master Endol stares blankly at me, taking extra care not to let any of his actual thoughts or feeling show on his face.

“I’m sure you have realized this by now,” he says, “but your elemental affinity is not Water. The rituals of the ice school were merely something Yaoldabath wrote onto your soul. Your true affinity, your field as an arcanist, is something entirely different. Consider this with special care. Therein lies your only hope, your sole advantage. That you know and he doesn’t. Battles between mages are battles between systems of knowledge. This card you may play only once. Do see that you make the most of it.”

I nod slowly.

“Okay. Now can I go?”

“Best of luck to you,” Master Endol says. “I shall pray for your success. For all our sakes.”

“Pray? To who?”

I thought there were no more gods.

The man shrugs. “To whoever happens to be listening. It never hurts to try.”

That's not very scientific.

I turn to go on.

What happens if and when I finally get my date with Old Yaldie, I’ll worry about it once we’re there.

Before we get to butting heads with Mister Evil, there’s another, in many ways more difficult hurdle to cross.

One with which no mystery of magic can help me.