Winston ushered her into the manor, and the opulent foyer had been maintained, much like the grounds, exactly as she remembered. Walking through, she drank in the sights. So familiar, and yet, not. It was strange being somewhere so familiar—somewhere that she knew should be virtual. It reminded her of waking in the Burial Room of the Ashen Hierophant. The disconnect jarred her.

A maid and student stood across the room, underneath an archway, and her eyes fell on them. They froze like deer in headlights, and both hastily curtsied and excused themselves—or, more accurately, fled.

She had thought she had earned a reputation back at Prismarche, but clearly it didn’t compete with the legend of Vivisari Vexaria, the woman who had heralded the mortal races out of the Age of Cataclysms. A woman who could, with a thought and a gesture of her staff, scoop up a small town with [Telekinesis] and pulverize it into a ball of earth and stone. However much the Party of Heroes had possessed a stellar reputation, the red tears on Vivi’s face invoked a primordial sort of fear.

And not just because of raw power. For all that the Sorceress had ended the Age of Chaos and saved the world, the common folk associated her with those times. She was supposed to be a relic of the past, a figure of mythical times. What did her return mean? Did her presence promise another Cataclysm? Why else would she have reappeared after so many years?

She wondered that herself. There didn’t need to be a greater reason she’d materialized into this world…but surely there was, right? Humans liked to find meaning where none existed, and she could be doing that now.

Winston led her through the estate and to a sitting room, stopping briefly to issue commands to a butler, who hurried off down the polished hallway.

The sitting room was paneled in dark, glossy wood, and a large fireplace sat at one end. A collection of deep blue velvet armchairs and a sofa were arranged on a thick, patterned rug. He bid her to sit, and she did so, sinking into the soft cushions, rich fabric smooth under her fingertips. The wealth on display reminded her of the Lounge. She felt out of place.

Winston closed the door with a soft click. When he remained standing, Vivi hesitated, then gestured at a seat.

“You can join me, if you want.”

“If you demand it, Mistress Vivisari, I shall of course obey. But I would be honored to act my role today. It’s something I’ve waited a century for.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s fine.”

The response caught her off guard. For all that he seemed to perceive her as an old friend, he also genuinely held to the master-servant dynamic. That shouldn’t have surprised her.

She shifted in place, not knowing what to say. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in an almost fond manner at the awkwardness. Strangely, that relaxed her. She didn’t have to put on airs. This man knew her—or Vivisari, who was apparently much closer in temperament than Vivi had assumed.

“You went and built an Academy while I was gone,” she opened with.

“Indeed. It seemed a worthwhile use of my time. I hope the appropriation of your estate was not presumptuous. We will, of course, vacate now that you’ve returned.”

Vivi stirred in surprise. “What? Where would you even go?”

“Plans have been made in advance. I did expect you to return someday, Mistress.”

“But—”

She paused. Did she want her home emptied out? She didn’t care much about this manor besides how it was comfortable, familiar, and played host to her personal vault—the last of those by far the most important factor. Obviously, she didn’t need to live in a fifty-room-or-however-ridiculously-big house this was. The only reason she owned it at all was because she’d been filthy rich in Seven Cataclysms, so why not buy the largest, most luxurious manor in the game?

“That’s really not necessary,” she eventually said. “Continue as you were. These grounds are better defended than anywhere else you can find, anyway, and you’ve already situated yourselves.” Honestly, she didn’t want the miniature army of combat maids and butlers to leave. She wouldn’t be staying here often, she figured, but when she did, getting to see them go about their daily lives would be—and she should really stop letting this be a major influence on her decisions—way too cool. “I doubt I’ll be spending much time here anyway.”

Winston considered her, then said smoothly, “If you insist. Please accept my deepest gratitude for your generosity.” A second passed, and he said, “You don’t intend to stay. Has urgent business returned you to us?”

It was obviously a polite way of getting to the meat of the matter. Why she’d been missing for a century, and what had brought her back.

How did she answer?

She was saved from having to respond right away by the butler from earlier returning with a rolling cart. Winston took it and began to arrange the porcelain tea set, the other man hurrying away after bowing so deeply it was almost comical. Like many things in this world, it was going to take a while to get used to the sheer respect—and subdued fear—everyone showed her. The [Illusion] she wore around wasn’t just a tactical consideration…she wasn’t sure she liked how people treated her without it.

She used the lull to consider her response. She had obviously thought about how to handle her arrival, what to say and how to act, but meeting Winston—and seeing how his dedication hadn’t wavered over the years—made her want to be more open than she’d first decided on.

“You’ve probably made a few incorrect assumptions,” Vivi said, reaching for the teacup Winston set in front of her. “Urgent business didn’t keep me away. From my perspective, it hasn’t been a century. Or even years.” She hesitated. “I can’t explain, fully, Winston, and this will sound strange. But I wasn’t present in this world.”

Winston, impressively, reacted merely with a slow raising of his eyebrows. “That,” he said eventually, “explains quite a lot, actually.”

“It does?”

“We sought you out, of course,” he replied. “Vanguard and I, among other concerned parties. When more reliable methods failed, we turned to divinations. The best oracles in the world. The results were…nonsensical. There was no interference, nothing to indicate that you, or any other, were hindering the readings. Yet the consensus those oracles reached, uniformly, was that you were not dead, but not alive, either. In a state of non-existence.” He hummed. “You were not present in this world? Yes, Mistress Vivisari, that does explain much.”

Vivi absorbed that quietly. Not dead, not alive, and perhaps didn’t actually exist? It was eerily relevant to her situation.

It brought up a topic she’d been wondering about since the start. Had Vivisari been a real person before Vivi had woken in her body? Were they alternate versions of each other, and she’d just…shifted somehow? Traded places? It was too bizarre to think about, and there was no way to draw any definitive conclusions. So she shook her head to clear it.

“I see,” Vivi said, taking a sip of tea. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you all the details, but yes. I didn’t intentionally disappear without giving you warning. I only got back two days ago. My warp points had reset, but I made straight for Meridian.”

Winston’s spine straightened at those words, which should have been impossible, seeing how he already stood with the posture of a statue.

But that was why Vivi had cleared the misunderstanding up. She didn’t want him thinking she had abandoned him, or anyone else. He probably would have forgiven it, even without an explanation, but after his dedicated service, he deserved the clarification. Winston was clearly a loyal man, and more importantly, a friend. Of Vivisari’s, at least. She would have to get to know him better before she could return the sentiment in earnest.

“Of course, Mistress. That you had your reasons was never in doubt.”

She didn’t quite believe him, since a century would put questions into anyone’s mind. But she didn’t say so. “Also, I should tell you that my memory is—somewhat unreliable. It should stabilize over time,” she assured him, since he seemed to grow immediately concerned. “I’m fine. I remember most things. But there are gaps, stemming from the…incident. I just felt you should know.”

“Indeed,” he said carefully. He obviously wanted to know more, and probably ask where she’d been if not ‘in this world’, but he didn’t, and Vivi internally sighed in relief. She didn’t want to get too wrapped up in this lie.

Not that it was really a lie. She’d told mostly the truth, if a misleading version of it.

She didn’t want to tell the full story. The idea made her uneasy. If she were honest, she would rather leave her past life behind and embrace this one. Earth didn’t matter, and trying to explain would only complicate everything.

“Never mind that. I told you in case I say something strange. Please correct me if you think there’s a misunderstanding somewhere.”

Maybe in some other situation Winston would assume she was an impostor spinning a strange tale to sell a lie, but the display on the grounds had dispelled any possibility of that. Only she could cast magic at that level. Well, she and maybe a few other individuals. Certain immortal figures from the game’s lore came to mind, like the Dragon King.

But Winston recognized her by personality, not just appearance. That was what cleared his doubts as much as her show of strength.

“So. What’s happened while I’ve been gone?”

“That,” Winston said, “is quite the question, Mistress.”

“It’s only been a century. Surely not much.”

It was a joke, but Winston grew contemplative, as if finding wisdom in the words.

“Specifically with you and the guild.” Obviously, she didn’t expect every social, technological, and political event since the game’s plot ended. “I need to make plans.”

“Indeed.” That put him on more solid ground, and his response came quickly. “I regret to inform you, if you are not already aware, that Vanguard has fractured. With no officers to—” She nodded and waved him along, and he skipped forward. “As for the whereabouts and current situation of its members, you would be far better served talking with Rafael.”

Rafael, the Guild Steward. The person she interacted with whenever she’d needed to upgrade or manage the guild. It seemed he’d translated over from the game too.

“He’s in Meridian?”

“Indeed. And has grown to prominence over the years, as many of Vanguard’s prior members have.”

The only ‘prior members of Vanguard’ should be Rafael and the eight craftsmen. The only adventurers had been her and her friends—the Party of Heroes.

It didn’t surprise her that Vanguard’s members had made names for themselves. Winston had too. He was the headmaster of an Academy that trained world-elite maids and butlers. And probably had all sorts of claims to fame through his own merit. He was Titled, certainly, and she suspected he’d involved himself in a number of important events over the years.

She wanted to ask him about all of that, but she kept focused on more important topics.

“What sort of prominence?”

“These days, he acts as the Chief Guildmaster.”

She paused. “For the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Indeed.”

The entire Adventurer’s Guild. Not Meridian’s local branch, which already would have been a significant title, but the whole organization.

“I see.” She found herself frowning. “Good for him.”

“I expect he’ll be quick to rejoin Vanguard, should you offer,” Winston said, reading the concern on her face. “At least from what I understand of the man. I won’t put words in his mouth.”

“Oh?”

“He’s found the role tedious as of late. Something new—or old, as it were—would be of great interest to him.” He inclined his head. “So far as I know. Again, mere conjecture.”

“You two have kept up?”

“More than superficially, but not as close friends. I was never of Vanguard, and our lives have diverged since those times. It has been, I believe, a few years since we’ve spoken at length.” He paused as he searched his memory. “A gala thrown by the royal family, if I remember correctly.”

She was glad there were even tentative links left between them, she supposed.

“Reestablishing Vanguard will be a priority of yours,” Winston said. “That much is a given. But I must ask, Mistress Vivisari—your reemergence on the centennial Peace Day. The timing is suspect. Is something afoot?”

Vivi frowned. It was a good observation, and something she’d thought about herself. “I’m not sure. Nothing obvious, at least. My entry point was the Northern Kingdom—the Ashen Hierophant’s domain.” He stirred at that, but didn’t seem too surprised. “I gated to Prismarche, and that same night, there was an…incident.”

“Incident.”

“A massive dimensional breach. Or an attempt at one. It failed.”

A long silence. “I hesitate to make assumptions, but that seems more like Fate than something so pedestrian as coincidence.”

She couldn’t disagree.

“So I’ll be looking into that,” Vivi sighed. Looking down into the amber liquid of her tea, she frowned. “I’ve heard the Thaumaturgical Institute has a new headmaster,” she said, which probably came out of nowhere to Winston. She’d been thinking about how she needed to make contact with the archmages.

“Indeed. Archmage Aeris retired not more than a few months after the Turning. The moment the dust settled enough to excuse it, I believe.” He grew solemn. “A well deserved retirement,” he murmured. “Those years were harder on him than most.”

Vivi winced. Yes, the game’s plot had not been kind to Archmage Aeris. It hadn’t to any of the so-called ‘good guys’. That Aeris had made it out alive through those brutal campaigns put him ahead of most.

“I’m aware of Archmage Lysander by reputation,” Winston continued, “and have interacted in limited manners with him. I’m afraid if you’re seeking insight into him as a person, or the situation at the Institute, though, I make for a poor source of information.” He dipped his head in apology. “That holds true for most topics. I would not overstate my abilities. Rafael will serve you far better than I could.” With a wry tone, he added, “I do believe he’s put together his own spy network. He’s one of the best-informed men in the kingdoms.”

“Oh?”

“It seems to be an open secret, that Web of his.” He paused, and his lips quirked at the edge. “If I were to break propriety and make a request, Mistress Vivisari, I would find it amusing if you made an unannounced visit. It has been many years, I suspect, since that man has been caught flat-footed. You will need to regale me with his reaction.”

She considered him. “I would hardly refuse a request from my loyal butler,” she said, her own lips twitching as she saw through his ruse. “But I think you’re encouraging bad behaviors, Winston. You’re giving me an excuse to make another dramatic entrance.”

This man really did know her.

“Never,” Winston said. “I would never scheme against my own Mistress.”

“I’ll need directions. And what’s happened to the guildhall? And the vault. Physically, I mean.”

“Dormant. Your wards have proved impervious over the years, as expected.”

“Which means Rafael is…?”

“At the Adventurer’s Guild, so far as I know. He leaves the city only rarely. It would be a simple matter to arrange a meeting through official channels, but,” his eyes sparkled, “a surprise visit would, truly, do him good. A reminder that there are some things even he can’t predict, nor happenings in this world his Web can ensnare in time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

While information gathering—speaking to Rafael—was high priority, she had come here with another primary goal.

“My personal vault,” she said. “That’s also untouched, I hope?”

“Yes, Mistress. Shall I escort you there now?”