When Banks awoke once again, the sense of danger was muted, but not entirely gone. This little time loop was occupied by something dangerous and while he was relatively safer in the edges of the time loop he would be far more exposed as he approached deeper into this particular eddy. Also, he was starting to wonder how the thing even got into the time loop in the first place. Was it also trapped inside like him. He really didn't want to think that the creature might get trapped and start to panic. Nobody would be happy if that was the case.

  "Hali brother, that's some impressive teleportation magic," familiar words tore him out of his contemplation.

  "Hello again, Eislock," Banks stated, watching as the Nevadie narrowed his eyes.

  "Have we met before?" the Nevadie asked, his voice light but alert.

  "Not before today," Banks admitted. "But in the future we will meet. You're on your last voyage and you were born in the moon kingdom."

  "The Moon Shrouded Nation," Eislock said. "I'm just going to assume you have some powerful clairvoyance and haven't been stalking me."

  "Nope," Banks said leaning back against the wall. "Although I never did understand why you found the need to camp out here, rather than a cheap inn. I'm sure you can scrape together some cash."

  "Just got inside the city before gate close, had no time to find an inn," the Nevadie stated. "I've slept in far worse places than this in my time, and you already know my lives have been quite a stretch. You're a prophet?"

  "Why, do you want the lottery numbers?" Banks asked getting a blank stare in return. Was the lottery not invented yet, what was the primitive equivalent. "Kinda, maybe. I wouldn't say I deal with that destiny stuff a lot and it doesn't deal well with me either. That said you should probably leave the city soon if you don't want your voyage to conclude here."

  "I did notice there does seem to be a rising energy in this city," Eislock stated. "It might actually be a good last voyage."

  "As you are, you will likely be ground up like wheat in a mill," Banks said, finally standing up. "Good talk."

  "Where are you going now?" the Nevadie asked.

  "Exploring," Banks said. "Not for danger. Just shit to do. Maybe I'll check out the library. Maybe I'll go mountain climbing. The point is that it's my choice. I'm going to do something fun for a change."

  xxx

  "Lord Emperor, the Barbarians are marching from the south in great numbers, they will be at the gates of Denkorim Castle in less than a day," the man dressed in a shitty copy of Principlia armor. "If we don't hasten to the castle defense they will take Denkorim and the entire empire will be laid open for barbarian invasion."

  "Then reinforce them we must," an actor with a stern expression and flowing golden hair said, his words noble and bursting with authority. "The Empire cannot afford to have Denkorim fall. I will ride out myself with my Golden Knights and we shall sweep the land clean of these Barbarians." This was supposed to be the Golden Emperor, one of the most famous and powerful men in millennia.

  "My lord you mustn't," a smooth faced man said, who was apparently the royal eunuch. "You can't risk your life at such a tumultuous time, the empire would crumble without your guidance." He was apparently the villain of the play, who opposed the hero for reasons that Banks had unfortunately missed due to the presence of those salty peanuts he liked.

  "Let me lead the troops, my Emperor," a well-built man with black hair and a chiseled jaw said. This was the hero, the general named Avonbar. A very liberal interpretation of the general, although not more so than the other caricatures on display.

  "Are you sure that the young general won't merely repeat his failures at Clair Rock," the eunuch said, with an appropriately smarmy tone, bringing up an event that just apparently occurred before the start of the play, but to his own knowledge actually occurred a decade or two before. It helped to think of the play as a strange alternate timeline, rather than a reflection of the decay that all history went through. Even the Golden Emperor couldn't escape it, the most famous human in millennia and yet this parody, drawn from incomplete knowledge was all that was reflected of his life.

  "I will not fail again," the man said speaking with determination as he stared at the audience.

  "Words are inexpensive, Avonbar," the eunuch stated. "And yet your loss at Clair Rock was very, very expensive. Do you think the Empire can afford to lose Denkorim. Do you think you can afford to lose Denkorim?"

  "I will succeed or pay for it with my life," the man stated firmly.

  "Do you think your mere life can cover the cost," the eunuch repeated nastily.

  "Enough, both of you," the man playing the Golden Emperor stated. "Avonbar, get to the castle and reinforce it with all your might. None of us can afford the loss of Denkorim or the surrounding towns shall surely suffer. How far is the fifth legion?" his last words were directed towards the eunuch.

  "To the west my lord," the eunuch said. "It should be a ten day before they can arrive at the castle, more if they stop and resupply."

  "Then you will have to hold out for the full ten days," the Golden Emperor stated firmly, his voice directing confident expectations towards the hero of the story. "Denkorim Castle must not fall or the entire empire will be open for the barbarian hordes. Regardless of how much you bleed, regardless of how many may perish. For the sake of all those behind you. For the sake of your wives and children you will hold the castle."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "I don't have a wife or child yet my lord," Avonbar stated.

  "Then the people in your troop who have wives and children," the Emperor stated dismissively as he waved the hero off, taking a seat at his gaudy golden throne. "I don't care about your love life. I only care that Denkorim does not fall."

  With those last words the curtains fell on the scene announcing that the first act was over and murmuring burst out in various places through the crowd. Banks finished his peanuts before stepping out of the theater. It was already quite late in the day, a day that he had spent drinking and lazing around trying not to trigger any more side quests in this accursed city. A day of fishing and drinking had calmed down nerves that he didn't even realize were frayed. It was nice. Now all he had to do was finish watching the play and then go and find a new inn that he could drink and then turn in for the night. Preferably away from the east part of town where the zombies would spring up.

  "Hey what did you think of the play," a familiar voice chimed up and Banks turned an eye towards a familiar acquaintance. "I've never really got the hang of critiquing plays. Every time I try to give my opinion it's always the wrong one. Like I think a movie is a beautiful work of art, but then it's actually trite and cliched or I think it was an entertaining turn your brain off thing, but then it turns out to be a subversive masterpiece."

  "Art is meant to be subjective I'm told," Banks said as he looked at Ascrew the self-proclaimed world's greatest assassin, looking remarkably sober, who handed him a pastry wrapped in paper.

  "Yeah, but then what's the purpose of talking about anything at all if it's all subjective," Ascrew said, his voice sounding minorly pissed off. "If everybody has their own independent subjective opinion of a thing then how can you even begin to know whether it's good or not? Can anything even be said to be good? Can anything be bad?"

  "I don't think everything about art is subjective," Banks admitted after a moment's thought. "Why you're asking me this dude?"

  "Just thought you might have a different perspective, you know," Ascrew said as they moved away from the crowds. "Did you know him?"

  "Who, the general, the eunuch or the Emperor?" he asked.

  "Yes," Ascrew said, plucking a rhinestone from the air with lightning speed.

  "An actual mathematician giving a mathematician's answer, how droll," Banks remarked. "I've ran into the general before or to be precise the legion that he was in, but we've never officially spoke and he wasn't even a general back then. The eunuch may have been based on somebody, but the Golden Emperor worshipped Meteria a fertility goddess. He had a harem, but he would be less offended if somebody slept with his concubine then if a servant of his cut their nuts off. I did actually knew the Golden Emperor quite well."

  "So, was he like the version in the play," Ascrew pressed for an answer.

  "No," Banks said, his face wrinkling as he recalled the performance. "They portray him as a type of warrior king, somebody who rides out with his beloved army and conquers the neighboring barbarian tribes bringing back loot and woman. A noble and powerful fighter clad in armor of gold as befits his name."

  "And that's not true," Ascrew stated.

  "He was a complete nerd," Banks stated. "He would much rather be at home tending to his vegetable patch, or messing around with his latest invention then out riding with his troops, which he regarded as a hassle. This whole noble warrior thing was a complete sham of his character. When he did have to go to war then his favorite tactics were stalling opposing armies out with superior logistics and he never wore armor at all. He also looked much older than that pretty boy on the stage."

  "Sounds like you were quite passionate about the misunderstanding," Ascrew said.

  "It's always strange to me when you know somebody and a few hundred years later you hear about them again and it's as if they are describing a totally different person," Banks said wistfully as he nibbled on his pastry. "There is no such thing as immortality through fame. Even with first hand accounts written in stone, time and context will warp remnants into something unrecognizable."

  "Well then," Ascrew said raising. "How do they talk about me in the future." He playfully elbowed Banks in the ribs. "All good stuff I hope." It was a mix of good and bad actually. Madman, rebel, hero and immoral merchant of murder. A wide range of interpretation all based around the fact that Ascrew wrote very little down about his personal life and motivations. At least that was the case for the next few centuries. Past that only the most specific of historians would even know his name.

  "I don't tell people about their future," Banks stated firmly.

  "Worried that it could be changed?" Ascrew asked. "A few words and the future is a totally different place filled with flying carriages and everybody speaking backwards." His words were sardonic, embodying a certain detached fatalism.

  "The future is always changing, the future is never changing and the future doesn't exist," Banks stated firmly. "You can't change the future because the future has already happened. Does that make sense?" It didn't, but he never claimed to be a wordsmith. How to describe the fact that the Golden Emperor is leading his armies at the same time as Banks watches a play and a casino is robbed by a time traveler. All events in the past, present and future happening simultaneously. Just because the water moves forward does not mean the river disappears.

  "No," Ascrew said, falling silent. "So anything big popping up in this hypothetical future, say in the next few days."

  "Yes," Banks stated. "And no this can't be changed. Not with your strength or mine."

  "That's unfortunate," Ascrew said. "Have we had this conversation before, or in the future. Since you said these there's no real difference between past and future."

  "It still doesn't work like that. But yes, it is our first time conversation about this specific matter," Banks admitted. "We might have it again sometime. If I can't avoid it." He tucked into his pastry, fully enjoying the concoction stuffed full of meat and gravy. It was exceptionally good, and not for the first time Banks wondered if Ascrew used his powers to increase the flavor of the meat, or he was just very good at sussing out the best places to eat. He could feel his mood improving with every bite.

  "Who has the strength to change the future then," Ascrew said causing him to pause with a mouth full of meat. A sentence that he felt dirty just thinking.

  "I don't know," Banks said after a while swallowing the meat. "Not me," he admitted after a while. For a while silence fell thick upon them, separated by the crowd by a few barren meters and something greater than mere space. Banks looked away for a moment and when he looked back the assassin had disappeared, leaving him all alone in the cool air outside. He balled up the paper, missed a shot into the nearby bin, before sheepishly picking it up and properly throwing it away. When he filed into the theater with the rest of the people after the intermission, his move had barely improved and he cruised through the remaining acts before subjecting himself to a warm inn and an early night.