The door opens to reveal an attendant adorned in the special garb awarded only to the royalties’ most trusted personnel. He glowers at my face, which beams happily in return.

“Opellius.”

“His Majesty is expecting you.”

So dejected.

I pat him on the shoulder, ignore his stiffening back, and slip through the doorway and into a chair across from the king. He pours a cup of tea for both of us, spooning extra sugar into his. There is a thick stick the size of a cigar splintered between his teeth.

“Headache’s bad again?”

“You seem to have roped my Rook into an errand dog.”

I chuckle and raise the teacup to my lips. Before sipping, the faint scent of nutmeg tickles my nose. Curious. I mull over the scent, then lower my cup to the table.

“I spoke with the Captain earlier.”

“Of course you did.” Awarding me a quarter of his attention at best, the king exchanges one stack of paperwork for another. As usual, his desk has been cluttered over the edge and onto the floor. Various impromptu paperweights keep the stacks from scattering at a gust of wind, including one ceremonial dagger.

“Perhaps you know the answer to this question: where are the records of the Summoned kept?”

“Ask your lapdog.”

“So, there are records.”

“Did you think there wouldn’t be?” he asks incredulously, waving a stack of paper in his hand like a fan. “This kingdom basically drowns in the stuff.”

“I haven’t seen any paper boats rowing down the streets.”

“Ha. Ha.”

I fiddle with the delicate handle of the cup. The artwork and texture have that new feeling to them. One of the makeshift paperweights on a pile occupying the desk has a sturdier handle. Chipped at the lip. Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his actual daily cup.

“So, Ivans said you needed to meet with me? If it’s about the Tearrorbols, you could have sent a letter.”

“After seeing your office?”

“It’s going to be paperwork either way.”

“The herd lost six members, but they are back in the cave. Surprisingly, the leader survived.”

“The leader? That’s good. Won’t have to worry about their grazing paths then.” He signs a document. Combs over the next. Scrunches his brow and glances up. “Wasn’t the cave flooded?”

His iris is unfocused. Fourth hour. Still reparable.

I stand up, circling over to the window. “I took care of it.” Sundial would be just slightly left. That path… that would be visible.

A speck appears above the castle. An impressive flap of its wings before the Eigle dives into the garden. I unlock and open the window, catching the magnificent bird against my forearm. He nuzzles his golden beak and silver head against the underside of my chin.

Muse huffs.

“Hello, Natalle.”

He flares his spotted feathers in greeting, then focuses his ruby eyes on mine intently. I bow my head to his, and he closes his eyes to touch our foreheads together.

Images flood between us like the film on a reel, one after another. A crackling fire in the night. A lake that never freezes suspended atop a castle of glittering ice. Slight mountain goat trails peppered with horned beasts and a singular unicorn at its precipice. A torn butterfly wing and a bargain. Blood-red sunset. Undead forest. The road to Sommersen.

The Hero of Arcane is returning.

I feed Natalle a snack and scratch beneath his chin. He ruffles his wings. Silver like his head, peppered with darker gray spots.

“Blends into the clouds.” Muse mutters to herself. Her tone makes it sound like a curse directed at him.

I release Natalle back into the air and muss her hair up with my finger. Muse cuddles into the gesture, but remains otherwise gloomy.

“You shouldn’t spoil a Muse,” the king warns. “They have a nasty habit of growing attached.”

I collect the potions from my inventory pouch, sort through the colours, and pocket a vial before returning the rest.

“Are you speaking from experience?”

He is silent for a bit, scribbling away at his papers. I wander over to the desk and inspect the cup. Tea leaves and berries, but no nutmeg. Good.

“…Yeah.”

Opellius returns to the room and glares at me. “The king’s office is not a playground.”

I fiddle with the decorative knife. It balances perfectly in my hand, the right amount of weight and grip. The blade is perfectly polished, like a shard of mirror had replaced the metal. Red eyes stare back at me. For a single blink, they flicker to emerald.

I sheathe the knife, returning it to the pile. “I’m aware. Playgrounds are constructed with the intention of dynamic movement and fun. Your king doesn’t seem to be enjoying either.”

His glare hardens. King Aldrainian waves him to silence, squinting at the text. Must be getting blurry by now. I sit down on the couch next to him, shifting a pile precariously in the process. I take advantage of his distraction to drag his cup out of range and block it off with the stack. The fatigue is bagged under his eyes.

“What day is it?” I ask.

“Resday. Six days before the Rift.”

“How do you know that?”

He rubs his face. There’s colour on his neck. “You heard the midnight bell. Resday follows Seonday.”

“And how did you know yesterday was Seonday?”

“As I have stated previously, Ingenuity, my master is not a tool for your entertainment.”

“The king can entertain?”

“That’s enough, you two. Are you done, Sebastian?”

“Not yet.” I hold out my hand to him. “You haven’t been replenished in a while.”

He sighs, drops his quipp, and accepts the mana transfer. Compared to usual, he doesn’t glow with renewed vitality. My hands tremble, but I curl them together in my lap.

“You should drink something,” he says, a touch of concern broaching his voice.

I smile softly. “No, thank you. Poison isn’t my cup of tea.”

Opellius is at attention immediately. “Your Majesty?”

“At once.”

He sprints into the hallway. I remove the vial from my pocket and pass it to the king. He pops the cork and takes a sniff. Grimaces. “This is the antidote to Winterwerm, is it not?”

“You know your antidotes.”

“It is more concerning that you recognize the poison.” He gulps down the fluid with a bitter expression. Tucking the empty vial into a pocket, he picks up his documents once more.

“I am familiar with its components. It is one of the many poisons to which I am immune.”

“My sympathies.”

“So,” I say, switching topics as we wait for his aide to return. “How do you track the time before the Rift?”

He wrinkles his face, almost like he took a second swig of the potion. “The Church of the Heroes.”

“Oh?”

“They built a church over an Hourglass of the Dragon. Greedy bastards charge a five credence entrance fee. Per visit.”

“Let me guess: the guards add up?”

“The guards, the advisors, the vassals… It’s an entire chicken coop by the time I step one foot inside.”

“Out of your coffers too, I would guess.”

“I’m the king. Drinks are always on me.”

“Not that one,” I counter, pointing at his buried teacup.

He grimaces again, contorting his face. “Not that one.”

“Where are the two heads of power?”

“My wife is attending a conference between the other kingdoms at the moment. The other does not interfere in the affairs of humans. A nightmare when she does.”

“Is there anyone who wants your head?”

“Me. Attached preferred.”

“That poison, Winterwerm, doesn’t decapitate.”

“Hooray…” he hoots sarcastically, stretching the word. “Sign me up for a double shot.”

I chuckle. “You can have my share if you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“So, you confiscated Might’s allowance, the Adventurer’s Guild confiscated his ability to desecrate their numbers on masse, and the citizens are still rioting at your doorstep to remove the quote unquote false heroes from their villages and towns. Too bad a judgment cannot be rendered on a Summoned without both heads of power.”

“You’ve done your research.”

I meet his steely gaze impassively. “Who were you sending a message to? Bryant missed the warning completely. Your daughter, Ambreyline, seemed less than amused with the spectacle.”

“I was under the impression you had yet to be formally introduced with my children.”

“She is one of the more active pieces on the board.”

“How much do you know?”

“Am I not supposed to?”

He sighs. Discards his paperwork haphazardly into a pile. “I suppose it doesn’t fucking matter anyways.”

“Where is that church you were talking about?”

“It’s pearly and white. Hard to miss.” He glances up at me and notes my expression. “Ivans can take you.”

“Are you paying his ticket?”

“He can wait outside. Why do you want to know anyways?”

The shaking’s gone. Good. I stand up and stretch. Looping my arms in circles by the shoulder, I lean over, extract the empty vial from the king, and wander back over to the window. It’s still open from when I let Natalle in. I hop through the frame, wind up my arm, and launch the vial.

The sound of glass shattering and a yelp. The disk from my arm swiftly follows. I hop back inside and step to the side for the king’s knight to slip past. Folding my arms over each other, I lean against the wall and listen to the cleanup from a distance. Not a very skilled one, are they?

Disappointing.

“If they mixed it themselves, there will be a trace of the Winterwerm on their fingers or lips. Though I’m sure your knight is already aware.”

“They know how to do their jobs.”

“That’s your greatest problem, isn’t it?”

He sighs. “Never catch a break.”

“Well, sometimes that break is permanent. How’s your vision? Should be better by now.”

He blinks. Throws his eyes about the room. “Yeah, seems to be. Fucking tired though.”

“That’s not the poison. That’s just you.”

He yawns, stretching his mouth wide and crinkling his eyes. Deflating against the couch, he nudges the stacks of paperwork with his foot. “Some of my advisors are trying to push for a new government building. As if we have the fucking space for it.”

“Let me guess: overcrowded, underworked, for the good of the economy?”

“Don’t forget the we deserve it.”

“Ooh. I love it when they use that excuse. Have you pulled up the numbers on them?”

“That’s what this shit’s for. The pile beside it’s the costs of the operation. We have too many jobs in-government as is.”

“What’s their premium?”

“Nearly double the average working wage.”

I whistle.

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m going to guess you need your wife to trim that fat.”

“Trim? She needs to set it on fire and watch it burn.”

“Be honest,” I say with a wry smile, “you just want your office to disappear.”

“This dreadful place burned to cinders. Not bad. Wouldn’t want the garden touched though. It didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That Synthia Tree protects the gardens, doesn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “Only covers itself and the gazebo. Not that many are aware.”

“Did that fairy tell you?”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Briefly.”

He sighs. “I feel bad for her. Created to grant a wish and that wish confines her to her home. Fairies have lifespans too. She’ll die without ever seeing the world.”

“What was the wish?”

He shakes his head. “That I don’t know the full details of. Has to do with the kingdom and the Thirteenth Summoned.”

“That far back, huh?”

“Records say we’re only over here because of them. And the Corrupted Lands are still a blight. Can’t expand the farming in that region; all the food has to be subsidized from outside.”

“On the kingdom’s wallet?”

“You get it.”

“Hard not to. How long have you been handling the paperwork for? People seem to be under the impression your wife took care of it.”

He snorts. “Maybe a third of it.”

“Only the important ones, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, the sarcasm is so hard to miss that I took a guess.”

He chuckles. “This is why I like you.”

“Your aide gave a different impression.”

“Opellius is just stiff. Great guy. Does his work well.”

“Those people are the type you want to keep. I’d rather have someone who’s competent than someone who’s likeable.”

“Sounds like you have a kingdom of your own back in the other world.”

“Not a kingdom. A business, similar to a merchant. Our main commerce is entertainment.”

“I take it you aren’t much of an entertainer on your own?”

“Not as much now, but I took on a fair number of roles in my youth.”

“Your youth?”

“I worked in the industry before creating my own. Nearly a decade on sets. I left for a while to take care of some other work, then returned after retirement.”

“Sebastian. You don’t ask questions without reason, and you certainly don’t ask them twice. Why did you want to know about the Hourglass?”

Something had been strange for a while, ever since completing my first two favours for Tammy. It finally clicked for me when I awoke after the Jabberwock and asked Muse the location of my wand. She hummed a tune from a movie. But it was her choice of movie that clicked for me.

“I am usually good with schedules. I have to be to manage my company efficiently. Dates, times, I keep track of all of it down to the second.”

“But?”

Opellius returns to the room and whispers into the king’s ear. He still awards me a glower, but the intensity of it has waned. More of a reflexive contortion than genuine disgust.

I continue. “You have 28 days in a month, correct? Four weeks, each week seven days.”

“You’re not suggesting we can’t distinguish between days?”

“Ivans, you wanted to hear this too, right?”

He steps into the room and sits down. There is a freshly made loaf of bread in his hands - the same loaf I had finished baking not one hour prior. He doesn’t say a word; just sits there eating quietly.

The theme that Muse sung was from a score. The protagonist and her research group had just entered into an unusual cave to explore its network. However, the deeper they explored, the more strange things began to emerge.

Eventually, as the group discovers, it wasn’t a cave at all that they were exploring.

“Ryan. That’s ridiculous. We–!”

King Aldrainian cuts off at the serious gaze I turn on him. That I turn on them both. I take a deep breath.

“Yesterday, when I asked Ivans to arrange this meetup, it wasn’t Seonday – seven days before the Rift. It was, or should have been, Resday. Five days before the Rift.”

The research group, they were exploring Time itself.

A momentary flash of panic, guilt, from Ivans. He tries not to flinch when the king speaks his name.

“Ivans says you’ve been blacking out,” the king muses aloud. “Could that be playing a factor with your memory recall?”

I shake my head, reach into my inner pocket, and remove my phone. “This has been keeping track for me. No matter what I do, the flow of time on this stopwatch has remained constant. It didn’t know this world’s time system before.”

The king takes my phone and studies the face of the watch for a bit. “The ticks on this are strange.”

“I asked a scholar; he says it’s from the old system – before the church and the kingdom collaborated to introduce the current one.”

“That’s stupid. Why would those bastards… Opellius. Clear a space in my schedule. We’re visiting the Hourglass.”

There is a twinkle in Ivans’ irises. He doesn’t say a word, but pulls some of the bread from his loaf, offering it to me. I sit down next to him and accept it.

“Thank you.”

I mean it.

I turn my attention back to the king. “What can you tell me about the Hourglass?”