#interactive story

It’s time to get rid of Aurelian and tend to your stomach. Though the man seems to sense your intention, and already has a shield up to defend himself. As if that will protect him from you.

“I’m afraid I must leave, Merlin. Unless you are open to trade?”

Trade? With him? How about his being arrested willingly in exchange for reasonable treatement during prisoner transport?

Aurelian laughs. “Rushing to enact justice as always…you must excuse me however. The Syndicate is waiting. There is a place for you too, if you like.”

Go to hell, you tell him. Jump into the void with Cyran.

“As enticing as that is…no, that kind of power does not interest me. I have my price…what is your price? Your lost memories? The secret of life?”

No price is enough to ever turn you to the Syndicate. And you’re done chatting.

Aurelian blocks the first blow from you. “Everyone has a price, Merlin. Gold? Power? Knowledge? Freedom?”

You send another fireball at him. He needs to fuck off.

“We will discover your price, Merlin. And trust me, you will be willing to pay that price when the time comes.”

Aurelian disappears in a puff as you attack him again. You swear at empty air.

You won’t pay his price. Ever.

The end is a nice place, with warm sunlight and new grass and rich soil beneath one’s shoes. More than that, the end promises a very near future where Aurelian is absent from the vicinity. It’s a pleasant end you would like to enjoy now.

“Merlin?”

Aurelian dare not put a hand on you, but he is blocking the way. You have no desire to engage in any further communication with him, and with your magic back, you will not hesitate to remove him by force.

“This needn’t be the end, you know.”

He straightens his lapels. “While we may have our…differenes in handling matters, I want to state that you are a valuable partner. Do you not find our cooperation in the dungeon very successful?” 

Where is this going? You don’t need to be buttered up like toast. 

“If I may propose a win-win partnership. You are bereft of your memories, while the Syndicate has a meticulous record of all happenings. Surely there is something we can offer you.”

Working together with the Syndicate? Sure, if he becomes a stripper and admits to his wrongdoings to the public.

Aurelian looks pained. “Do not let your emotions dictate your actions, Merlin-”

One more word, and you’ll physically seal his mouth. One more.

Lucky for him, he backs up with his hands in the air. 

“If you ever change your mind, Merlin, know that I don’t hold grudges. I am always open to trade with you.”

You fire a spell at him, purposely missing his moustache. Aurelian scrambles away. 

Of course, Aurelian could by lying through his teeth, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he was. But the way he seemed lost in the dungeon just now entices you to think that there is a grain of truth in his words.

“My offer still stands, Merlin.”

Aurelian certainly has a nose for opportunity, you give him that. Or perhaps your curiosity is too loud. Thankfully, your caution outweighs your curiosity, and you turn him down with firm words.

“What a shame…would you not want to know my memory of you? I am open to negotiation, Merlin. Only for you.” 

Actually, there is something you want to know. Why is Aurelian so inclined to trade with you? You pat your coin pouch with a wary hand.

Aurelian looks amused.

“Gold? Never with you, Merlin…Everyone in the Syndicate would be more than eager to personally induct you. Do you not know that Merlin is very desirable?”

Right. Of course everyone wants Merlin. You might be better off living as a hermit in your own tower.

“So, if you would graciously grant me the opportunity to introduce you to the Syndicate, I would be more than willing to fulfill all your…needs. However presumptous they might be.”

Is this a veiled offer to join the Syndicate? He’s out of his mind. He needs to make himself scarce, you tell him.

Aurelian looks unready to leave, but a fireball shower from you has him convinced. Good.

He has so many questions. What did you give the Merchant? Have you recalled all your memories? Is it a partial recall? What do you remember? What happened twenty years ago in the war? What magic did you do then?

You don’t feel like providing a response.

Eventually, Aurelian darts into your path, his eyes alight with curiosity and something nastier. You narrow your eyes.

“I can trade with you too. I have plenty of memories about you before the war.”

Behind your mysterious facade is an amnesiac putting on a very good act. Of course you can’t let Aurelian know that. But you are curious as to what memories he might give you. Assuming half of it aren’t straight up lies. 

Aurelian steps closer. “No one else has this much access to the Syndicate’s records, not even Cyran. If you wish, I could show you memories of others too. Trade with me, Merlin. You won’t regret it.”

No thanks. You say you have nothing to offer him. 

“Everyone has something that they are willing to trade for another thing of higher value, Merlin. Perhaps you just need some time to consider what it is?”

Right. No. Curiosity doesn’t mean you’re willing to trade. And you just remembered. Aurelian is a criminal and you should take him in again.

Aurelian backs up. Ah, has your eyes given you away?

“There is all the time in the world to consider, Merlin. Until we meet again.”

Poof. He’s gone.

“No one can refuse the world, Merlin. And I have faith that you would rule it better than Cyran.”

You? Ruling the world? You might not remember what was it like to lead the Arcane Council, but you sure do remember being asked to make important decisions that you aren’t prepared to make since waking from your coma. No thanks.

Aurelian’s shadow falls over you from his proximity to your side.

“The world in your hands. Imagine that! The feats you could achieve, especially for Merlin. The mana you can harness.”

You don’t need “the world” to do what you want to do, you reply him flatly. You are happy where you are now. In fact, no one needs “the world.” Especially people like him and Cyran.

“You’ve never tasted that kind of power, Merlin. I promise you, once you’ve had a taste, you will understand why Cyran struggles for it.”

You’re getting sick of him. Someone needs to learn that no is a full sentence.

Aurelian holds his hands up. “Or is it that you have no faith in me? Believe me, Merlin. What Cyran can offer you is but a few aggressive Hypogeans. I can give you so much more.”

A fireball of yours whizzes past his head, singeing a few hairs. Aurelian releases smoke that billows upwards rapidly.

“When the time is right, we will meet again, Merlin.”

When you finally drag him out of the dungeon, your arm is screaming for a reprieve. You dump Aurelian onto the first patch of soil you see, flinging your arm about at a pathetic attempt for relief.

He groans at your feet. You proceed to ignore it. 

“Merlin…”

What? You already removed him from the dungeon after he tried to bind you with a contract. He should be grateful you even tried. You could have pried his fingers off and went about your day.

Hmm. The soil at your feet is slowly turning red.

Oh no, the criminal is injured. What shall you do? You watch him with arms folded, staring haughtily from above. What a shame, it would be harder for him to run away now. No time like the present to take him in.

Aurelian pleads wordlessly with his eyes.

Oh fine. Fine. If he died here, your arm would have expanded all that effort for nothing. You roll up your sleeves and poke at him with disdain. Alright, he’s got some injuries. Nothing fatal. 

You’re not exactly gentle. Was that a whimper you hear from the injured man? Let’s pretend you didn’t hear that.

You do just enough to make sure he doesn’t die. Not so much for the pain though. Aurelian sits up, face pale, clutching at his side.

“Thank…you…Merlin. I will…repay…your favor…”

Oh no no. You’re good. You don’t need someone like Aurelian to repay any favours. 

Now, let’s arrest him.

The prince was surrounded by many guards and servants, and his parents loved him dearly, but he was truly lonely in the castle. He had no siblings or playmates to, and his tutors bored him more with each lesson. Slowly, the prince fell into the monotony, identical days each passing by quicker than the last.

One day, something broke this monotony.