Right, I'll be honest, that whole "Look in all the wrong places thing" didn't work out remarkably well. I went to the magistrate's office to try and get an audience. Her secretary didn't even bat an eye no matter how often I mentioned I was an important General. I didn't blame her. I didn't even really have a plan once I got in there. Ask the magistrate who the Prophet was? Ask her where we were? Where she was from? Ask what to do next? Ask where I could buy a house and settle down here and pretend I wasn't interested in anything anymore? Ask when had I become so bad at coming up with a plan? Was I always this bad at it? Was I just carried by luck and bravado? Was I needed here? Was I even needed back home?

So I just ended up wandering around the markets feeling a little put-out and trying to avoid the others. I didn't even want to look at Fire for some exceptionally petty reason. And something felt wrong about Astro. He looked older, perhaps wiser, but definitely less optimistic. Definitely weaker physically too. The Grey Ones claimed to have waited eleven years. By Notch, could that even be possible? Could I even get back to my world as it was? I felt appallingly alone.

I bought some casual clothing. My usual tastes of cotton sweaters, leather belts and black trousers were easily satisfied so I found myself at a loss as to what to do. I couldn't even confidently change out of my armour without entrusting it to one of the Brines' bottomless pockets or the weird blue vortex in Tyron's back which he occasionally put things into and pulled things out of like a magician trying to get the right animal out of his hat. After arguing with a few merchants over the price of crossbows I found myself back at the inn. I saw Steve and Jennifer eating lunch on the main floor. We'd had something of a reconciliation in the arena but we hadn't really spoken since and I was in a bad mood so I just waved at them and put on a smile before marching up the stairs.

I lay on my bed for what felt like an age, twiddling with my torn scarf until I decided I'd best go and store some of my armour with Tyron. I could retrieve it at any given moment. A little difficulty in re-equipping myself but we weren't expecting an attack from the Entity any time soon and we probably weren't his top priority. He had his business interests to attend to and Warnado had loosed half the prison.

So I changed, bundling up my armour and carrying it overarm.

Tyron was lying on his bed staring at Kir, his body language suggesting they were in the midst of a conversation.

"Hello Tyron," I said, knocking on the open door. I reached out with my mind and added: "Hello little guy."

"Hi Kay," he responded, smiling. "What do you need?"

"Mind if I store some armour in your mysterious blue void?"

Without missing a beat: "Yeah, sure, no problem."

And so I handed them to him and in a few brief flashes they were stored.

"That all?" he asked.

"Yep, I'm good thanks."

My mind must have looked sad because his eyes flicked toward his sword and then back to me.

"You sure you don't want to talk?"

"No, seriously, I'm good," I insisted, forcing a renewed smile.

"Sure?" chirped Kir in concern. "Seem sad."

I remembered the Lady.

Something about Kir's sincerity was convincing. Enticing. I went and sat down in the seat in the corner.

"Tell all about it."

"Well, I'll spare you the details of my childhood, so I'll start with the day I met Astro. You see, I'd recently stolen a chicken…"

And so I told him. I had met Astro about five years before. I was low on funds and Aaron and I were living together. My house. The one I'd been given on arriving in Zine Craft. We wanted to go legitimate. I loved Cossack and Secret and Small and everyone. They were my closest friends and I knew they had my back. But I couldn't bear that lifestyle anymore.

There would be no more highwayman work; no more collecting debts for loan sharks; no more criminal bollocks. Problem is, once you've built up a reputation for yourself as a dodgy bastard it's hard to get rid of it. Couldn't even get work in the mines. So I decided to poach on the side to get food. Then they cracked down on poaching so I decided to try and steal a chicken right out of a Moderator's garden.

I got caught and they put me under house arrest. I thought we were done. About to starve to death or go back to that life. Then, he mentioned a friend of his was coming over. An Arcadian wizard called Astro. Ended up becoming the Administrator's apprentice.

And he helped me fly again. Gave me funds to rebuild my old airship. To build a business off that and go wherever we wanted. For about three months, life was fantastic. Then, the day it was all rebuilt, they blew up my house.

Long story short, Astro and I had pissed off a Moderator and a captain of the guard respectively and they decided to put us back in our place by bombing my home. I'm still bitter now so you can imagine how furious I was back then. So, I decided to organise a conspiracy to assassinate them, and I predictably got caught and chucked into prison.

That's around the time I got into Herobrine worship again and then he resurrected himself and I started getting visions. Eventually I and some other Thaums and dissidents were able to organise a mass breakout.

After that, I rode all the way out to Herobrine's camp. To follow the visions. I rode for a straight week. I stopped to eat twice. I stopped to sleep once. They had to drag me into his tent. Seeing those glowing eyes flicker before me, looking to me like the only fixed point in a world churning like river-rapids, was the happiest moment of my life.

I fought for him to the very last. For Herobrine. For an independent Thaumic nation. To stop the Endlings from carrying out their little plan. I fought, and I tortured and I killed until eventually I found my way back to Zine Craft. I'd assumed the others had had the good sense to get out of there long before the war arrived so you can imagine how surprised I was when I discovered my best friends were the ones raiding my encampment. They didn't know it was me, naturally. I didn't know it was them either until I chased down Astro. Astro almost killed me and then almost cried when my helmet fell off and he saw my face. He swears he hadn't even heard of "Herobrine's Lap Dog" at that point.

And so things unfolded. They escaped just before we arrived in Capital City and Notch and Herobrine duelled and I was there and Notch died to Israphel and then half the city blew up. Met my old nemesis while I was there too. That's another story. One I'd rather not go into right now. Best not to dwell on what he did.

I then passed a few weeks being decorated and praised to high heavens in Mojang as Jeb and Herobrine negotiated the new status quo. Then that new status quo consisted of setting fire to the Southern Thaumlands and giving the Inquisition free reign. Because of course Jeb wasn't really the one we were negotiating with. It was Dinner Bone and Grumm. Herobrine only barely convinced me not to lead a coup. Couldn't divide the camps, otherwise the Endlings would be back - the full force of the Obsidian Families this time, not the surgical army we had to deal with. The Court of Whispers might have joined them. I still think we could have put up more resistance...

"I only wanted to be with my friends after the first fireships went in. And now, beyond keeping them safe, I don't think I want any more causes," said I, numb. I couldn't remember if I'd started out talking aloud or whether I'd started out streaming thoughts to Kir. I likely faded between the two.

However I'd started, it was Tyron who responded: "And yet, here we are."

"Yep."

"Life can be pretty awful sometimes, can't it?"

"Yep."

"We've just got to keep going."

"Yep."

"Can I get an answer that's not one word?"

I smiled wryly: "I suppose."

He laughed. "Nah, I know how you feel. It never gets easier. But if we don't do it, who else will?"

"I think I just wanted the world to like me."

A gust of wind and light caught the curtain and blasted it upwards and on. I stood up and allowed the wind to drift me toward the door.

"Thanks, this has been a good talk," I smiled. "You'll have to tell me your story some time."

Tyron just looked at me, face unblemished by anything resembling a smile, locked in permanent seriousness, yet an utmost satisfaction and benevolence had crystalized in his eyes.

"Will do someday," said Kir, with the same wistful kindness.