As I said before I do leave my castle sometimes. I even do it alone, somewhat escaping from the busy life of a popular villain. I tend to put on a dark cloak to hide my distinctive looks but not always. 

That time I didn't. I only had my sword and magic book to accompany me, too deeply into my own thoughts to care about anything else at all. 

You see my empire was growing. More in fame than in size but more and more adventures would come deep down specifically seeking me, the great villain, the dark mage of the scorching hot dungeons. I even had to turn down some kids seeking to “learn villainy” under me! Kids! In my castle! Absolutely not, go away. 

And so, annoyed, I told Snowdrop to not let anyone in - no, not even Prayer, stop letting Prayer hang out at my castle - and wandered away to, well, wherever. 

I went through some of the more well known chambers, looked in some corners, and found a skeleton or two. Nothing interesting, not really. I was going through the motion of exploring rather than actually exploring the dungeon. 

I’m not sure when I first heard the muffled sound of clanging. I was going next to yet another lava river when I realized that it was a sound that followed me for a while now. Cling, clang, cling, clang, metal on metal, heavy sound of work. It was something I was used to, having been raised in the surface world. Everyone needed some blacksmithing every once in a while. But who was doing it down here? 

I followed the sound knowing that the possibility that I’ll find something interesting is slight. But it was there and I wasn’t about to ignore it. It was hard to actually find the source of the sound and it echoed against many different halls and corridors. 

When I actually found the right place it felt weirdly familiar. There were workers, many of them, forging weapons and tools. As I walked among them they didn’t mind - they were all echoes of the past, there weren't enough of them left to create conscious ghosts. Some of them were horses. Others were different, two legged figures that I sometimes saw on old depictions of the dungeon. They worked in harmony, on weapons that were still left unfinished in their workplaces. Daggers, swords but scythes and hammers too. I picked one of the unfinished daggers and nothing happened. The echoes kept following their rhythm, unaware of the change. 

I left the place and obviously the first thing I saw outside was goddamn Terrence. 

“Oh, the great Ignacy is traveling without any bodyguards?” 

“Fuck off, Terrence. If your butt hurts so much because I didn’t stick in your shadow then go take it to the doctor,” I answered him. 

We stared angrily at each for a moment and then slowly, without any more words we moved past. I didn’t care about confronting my past, especially if it included Terrence. And Terrence was smarter than to pick a fight with me while he was visibly tired of the descent. 

I went back home, angrier but richer by a single unfinished dagger.