Andrey sat in his chair, gazing emptily into the distance. The crystals within the cave had long since been covered by an even surface of white mortar, and Andrey now sat within a massive, empty room.

Not that he had many things to furnish it with. He supposed furnishings were unnecessary when he could summon anything he could recall through force of will alone.

Speaking of which, he could go for a book now. Anything to pass the time within this eternal prison.

Pulling upon the massive reserves of hidden knowledge within his mind, he willed it into existence, before looking down upon the cover. Arts.

He chuckled. Of course, he would find his Arts Codex. Well, this information wasn't useful. Forcing another wave of Arts with practiced energies, he pulled another book out of the ether. Geopolitics… fifty years old.

It was inconvenient enough having to use Arts to pull much of his past knowledge out, and finding most of it was useless definitely didn't help.

Well, he supposed the history sections of this book could have some value. Opening the pages, he was pleasantly surprised to find it was written in readable text, not the barely legible cursive of court texts.

Opening the pages, he began to read.

Hours later, Andrey closed the pages within the book. The pages felt like empty space under his hands, but he had long since gotten used to it. His senses had been dulled by some Arts, even his voice barely audible within this silent world.

Checking the Arts-powered clock he had built, he checked the time. It had been almost a month since he had been locked in here… well, if he could trust his Arts.

At least Frostnova was safe now. But he doubted she would come back to help him. Sending out a probing wave of Arts, he was unsurprised to find the world outside staunchly repulse it.

The red pillars of light around the crystals likely suppressed whatever he could send out.

A rebellious thought of escape arose; he quashed that thought quickly, summoned another book, and moved on. No use.

Additional Arts. Now that could be useful.

While he was unsure as to whether any of this could be properly used, he stubbornly believed that it would be useful, eventually.

Perhaps that was the only thing keeping him from going insane here.

Time flew by with the quiet ticking of the clock, and page upon page of information quietly returned to his mind. Soon, Andrey willed the book away again and stood up.

He had long since acknowledged that much of what he once had was lost forever. The information he had left… it was just what minuscule fraction of all of his knowledge; just the most important things, those which had been burned within his memory by endless memorization.

The empty cave around him stood still, without any of the noise of reality – an ersatz façade.

What hadn't he tried before? He racked his mind for answers, for anything he could do… he had manifested everything from puzzles to chess sets in an attempt to stave off the inevitable boredom.

Perhaps… memories?

He supposed he could try.

Tapping into his Arts, Andrey felt through near-endless power of the Originium he was now integrated with – and casting a wave of Arts towards himself, Andrey slowly wove his way through the threads of memory.

A recollection shone like a bright spark in the darkness, and he felt himself drawn to it.

And with a pulse of Arts, the world around him shattered into a million glowing pieces.

"You are Constantin, yes?" Andrey gazed at the young, blonde-haired Caprinae ahead of him, dressed in the practical uniform of the Kaiser's spies.

"Yes, sir." The man nodded. Andrey probed his mind; finding an empty expanse in place of the usual, chaotic thoughts of those who had the "pleasure" of meeting him.

Impressive… he had chosen correctly. "Records has assigned you to my personal spy group. You have been informed, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Again, the same words, spoken with the exact same tone and voice.

"I assume you understand the current geopolitical situation of Leithania, then." Without waiting for a response, Andrey continued. "A nomadic city on the northern fringes is exhibiting abnormal activity. Investigate it."

"Yes, sir."

"Receive your report from the Records Office. You have two months to complete your task. Dismissed."

"Understood, sir." A quick turn, and Constantin left. Andrey watched him as he left, noting the silent, practiced steps of his boots against the stone.

For an Arts-less defect to reach such a high rank… impressive, indeed.

Andrey looked down upon the reports in his hands, quickly flipping through them. He cared not for the pages of symbols upon the paper – no, he was looking for Constantin's name. The man had returned a few days before, sporting a considerable array of wounds. Dramatic, yes, but also concerning.

He was beginning to think he should have put more attention on the only "defect" within his inner echelons.

Finally, he found Constantin's name.

Six missions completed, without replenishment of troops or resources, within nine months.

Quickly, Andrey referenced his records. The man he had put in charge of his resupply was… oh, Hector. He was on thin ice already.

Striding out of the room, Andrey sighed as he walked towards the Records office.

Time to clean up the mess he had inadvertently made.

A few rather public arrests later, Andrey walked back into his office. He found Constantin already waiting there for him, standing by the side of the room with his hands folded in front of him.

Andrey didn't bother with sitting down at his desk. It would just be a waste of time. "I've dealt with the other spies bothering you."

He almost thought this would elicit some reaction, physical or mental, from the man. No; still that empty, blank slate. "Understood, sir."

"However, your performance despite their interference has impressed me. You will act as my personal assistant continuing onwards. I will expect you to maintain the same performance you have previously demonstrated."

"Yes, sir."

"Your new chambers will be arranged within the week. Inform me if not. Dismissed."

And again, Constantin turned and left, his soundless steps leaving no indication he had ever been in Andrey's office.

"Why incur substantial casualties clearing out the slum, rather than burning it down?" Reading the report, Andrey frowned, turning to Constantin. "Are your moral views clouding your judgement?"

"The rebel group was too entrenched for the destruction of the slum to have any significant effect, sir." Constantin explained.

"Clearing out any physical obstructions would still reduce casualties." Wasn't it obvious?

Constantin paused for a moment, before replying. "Destruction of civilian infrastructure could incite unrest, sir."

Andrey mulled it over, before deciding against pestering the man. He had a point. "Very well, then."

A long period of silence, only the rustling of paper echoing throughout the room.

"Do you require assistance, sir?" Constantin asked.

Andrey supposed it wouldn't hurt, setting aside a small stack of paperwork. "Inspect these combat reports, then."

Picking the papers up from the desk, Constantin sat down on a nearby seat, and got to work.

By night, the paperwork was done; Andrey passively studying the reports Constantin had marked. Good enough. He could trust him, so long as he checked the reports Constantin made regularly.

Bribery – or worse – was always a risk, especially in such an important department.

His choice to spend the lives of his troops on saving public favor… was questionable, however. As much as it seemed logical, Andrey hypothesized much of the choice was made on account of the inevitable suffering burning down the slum would cause.

He could only guess. The man's mind was as blank as ever.

Time passed in a forgettable blur, Constantin's seemingly emotionless presence becoming a constant factor in Andrey's life. He was an efficient spy, and an even better assassin – nobody suspected the man without Arts could be dangerous.

Andrey studied Constantin as he walked back into his office. The man had recently eliminated another rebel group. They had been popping up increasingly frequently, as the Kaiser's choices made him fall increasingly out of favor with the general populace.

Andrey made sure to think very carefully about that. Arts were everywhere in the palace.

The lines of Constantin's face were becoming increasingly worn with age, and Andrey was considering sending him to a quieter job. Constantin was useful for many things, but unlike Andrey, he was without access to the life-extending Arts of the Kaiser's closest advisors.

Unfortunate. Perhaps he could remedy that, someday.

Andrey would admit, Constantin's persistence at ensuring his morals remained intact was admirable. It was unheard of to negotiate with a rebel group – but again, it had ended quite well. While the rebels walked free eventually, it did save some lives that would have been lost in the battles against them.

Andrey didn't bother reprimanding him now; it was just Constantin's style. Acting the hero seemed to pay dividends for Constantin, so why fix what wasn't broken?

Though with how His Majesty was ramping up operations against the rebels… he doubted it would work forever.

And again, time passed.

Andrey walked into Constantin's chambers on one particular day, finding Constantin sitting there, waiting for him. Andrey's body was as young as ever, but Constantin was no longer the silent assassin of his younger years; nonetheless, he still snapped into a crisp salute as soon as Andrey walked in.

"I cannot undergo the operation, sir." He spoke first, quick as ever.

"Explain."

"To use Arts to extend one's life… it's unnatural. I wish to retire and live the rest of my life in peace. And it is against regulation to use those Arts on troops of my rank, yes?"

"Do you not wish to continue to serve?" Andrey questioned, walking forwards a quick step.

"To break regulation so flagrantly would be tantamount to treason."

Andrey wasn't sure whether to applaud Constantin's dedication to the rules or chastise his resistance to his "request."

Nonetheless… Andrey had to respect Constantin's choice. Otherwise, a report to His Majesty about misuse of Arts would not end well for him.

"Very well, then." Turning on a heel, he left the room.

"And I would rather die than see Leithania broken apart by war." The words echoed in the room behind him.

Consciousness returned to Andrey, and he stood back up onto his feet, back within his empty cave.

He shouldn't have expected much from his memories; most of it was just useless data. As much as Constantin was an interesting man, he was dead now, and useless. But it was a reprieve from the endless monotony –

Something had changed. The world seemed lighter, almost; open and free, as if some cage had been taken away.

Reaching out with tendrils of Arts, Andrey found the usual resistance gone, stretching his Arts out to the world – and feeling a presence nearby.

"Frostnova?"

AN: I'm getting into rather esoteric things, aren't I? Sorry if the descriptions didn't make much sense… I'm finding it difficult to figure out how to describe exploring your own mind with accuracy. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows (yay, 100) so far!

P.S. For some reason, the view count isn't tracking properly (in fact, it hasn't been for two weeks, and I just noticed). Not a really big deal, but I am a bit curious about it. Is everything working properly for you guys?