SQDSMP

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He woke up with a start, his body covered in sweat. 
He wasn't at home. 


To a regular human, the darkness of the room would have been an inky black void, but for Wilheim he could discern the shapes of a desk, a round mirror-like item on the wall, an actual mirror, a door into a bathroom, and an in-wall closet. 

He was in the Halls of Providence. 

Sighing angrily, he reached out to hit the orb that provided light, illuminating the room, and pulled on his uniform. 
He’d been proud to receive that from the Provider when he arrived. He was disappointed to leave it behind for each mission, and to him, it was a trophy of being good enough to be a servant of this god. 
But now, it just reminded him of what he didn't have before reaching the Valley.
This was when he didn’t have Emissary or Matern. Or Strawberry. 
When all he had was attachments to silly, meaningless clothes, and a desire to kill. 

Of course, the uniform wasn’t just clothing. It was armoured against physical and magical attacks, and borderline indestructible, just like his suit, but this was far easier to move in. Anything that came at him in the Halls of Providence wouldn’t last even a second. 
Being in the real world made him less powerful. At least, it made it more difficult to channel his power. Being in more godly places, it was like a waterfall that would never run dry. 
He picked up his sword that he’d brought with him, Honour Bound- 
Stupid, STUPID. I can’t use this ye- No matter. I have it, and it will serve me.

He marched through the Halls, the corridors deliberately directing him away from where he knew the Provider was lurking, and soon, he turned into the dining hall, where various subjects and other servants of the Provider were, and everyone turned to look at him as he pushed the door open. 
They were silent. 
Everyone knew who he was, that was no secret. They all knew what he’d done, what he was capable of, especially of how dangerous he was in the Halls. 

Wilheim’s anger filled the room like smoke, breathing heavily and gripping his sword tightly. 
If anyone died here, they’d be brought back within minutes. The only one who had a say over death in this realm was the Provider. 
“Where. Is. It.” He growled. 

The most meek, faraway voice spoke up after a few moments of silence and hesitation. 
“The Chapel- It’s uh, busy.”
Wilheim strode through the room, out of the back two doors, and along the hallway to the Chapel. 
It was the longest hallway he’d ever walked along, taking him nearly 30 minutes to reach the ever distant door at the bottom. 


Without a second of pause, Wilheim thrust both the doors open, where the tall figure of the Provider was standing at the head of a long altar, in one of the most enormous church-like structures Wilheim had ever seen.
When he’d first agreed to become an avatar for the Provider, The Chapel was the most gobsmacking piece of architecture he’d laid eyes on, but now, he was unfazed and inconvenienced by the length that he would have to walk. 

The figures around the altar turned in unison to face him, The Provider looking up, golden eyes glinting. 
“Wilheim.” It wasn't surprised. “Give us a few moments.”
It waved its hand, and an invisible barrier shimmered into place at the end of the pews of The Chapel, and thousands of enemies, old and new appeared, making the previously sparse Chapel now packed with hostiles.
Wilheim groaned, shifting his grip on his sword, moving it to his left hand, and grabbing a staff from the wall, previously ornamental and now functional. 
It was a very strong stick, ringed with a shimmering brass, that seemed to burst with energy as he took hold of it. 
“Screw it.” He dropped his sword, and got to work.

Fighting with the staff was different to anything he’d really grown used to in the Valley, or even outside his experience of fighting in general. Obviously, he’d trained and mastered one before, as with many weapons, but using it against proper, powerful enemies was tough. It was a refreshing challenge. He wasn’t yet ready to hold Honour Bound. Not properly. 

He lept into the fray, taking a more acrobatic approach to the fighting. The length of the staff allowed him to build more power into the swings, so when fighting armoured beings, and skeletons, just one hit would shatter them. 
Wilheim jumped to and from enemies, using them as springboards, leaping over swung blades, blocking projectiles, batting other weapons back, and just one hit from this staff was enough to keep them down and dissolve them into dust. 
It was like he’d been blessed with speed, with how he was running. The staff became an extension of his arm, allowing him to create a circle of clarity, to take a breath, and find a different area. 
He ran to the side of the enormous hall, where there were just as many monsters, and charging back in, Wilheim dodged up the wall, spinning in mid-air to bring the staff down across its side, tearing through the ribcage in a mess of powdery blood and rot. He turned, and with each methodical swing, brought down zombie after skeleton after mercenary after demigod- the staff twirling became a blur of glowing destruction, a fine spray of gore with each impact. 
He used the staff as a mobility implement, vaulting over the tallest creatures, and flipping over to bring it down on their skulls. 
It took a while to clear the room, as he supposed was the intention, but soon, the last creature was dispatched, and Wilheim shook the staff clean of guts, the shimmering brass crackling with energy. 

He strode through the gauze-like barrier, throwing the staff behind him with a muffled, clatter, where the Provider eyed him keenly, standing at the top of the Chapel, beneath a lavish red throne. Its hands were crossed over the pommel of an enormous greatsword, its face in shadow, and a cloak of writhing darkness obscuring everything but its eyes. 
Wilheim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, the Provider spoke first. 
“Watch your tone.” It warned. 
Wilheim glared at it, and turned around to take a deep breath. 
Nice and slowly he did it, properly closing his eyes and breathing deep from his stomach, and when he was ready, he turned around. 
The Provider looked satisfied, and nodded for him to continue. 

“My life was fine without you.”
Wilheim let that sink in. 
“I grew up and fighting was all I knew. Combat, and some numeracy, and languages, and letters. And I was the greatest weapon-worker that anyone had known there to be on the planet. But I was hired by the people who knew the secrets of the world, the creatures that lay long forgotten, with horrid pathogens and venoms that would obliterate a mere human. But not me. My mother trained me well, and as far as your avatars go, I believe she was one of the better ones- at least- that's what those around the Halls say…”
He cleared his throat. 
“But her job, her skills, and her commitment to you- that didn't dis-enable her to be a mother- a loving carer. See, I’ve always had a piece of your power inside of me. When she had me, she was a full avatar of you, I know this. And without her willingness to love, and devote herself to another human, how would you have got me?”
Wilheim started walking forwards slowly. 
“I don’t regret joining with you, and serving for you has been a far more rewarding and beneficial time than I ever would have had back home. But it’s been nearly 70 years of non stop fighting, killing, doing everything for you. Almost every day, for 70. Years. That’s over half of a million hours of my existence. Why can’t I take some time for myself?”
Wilheim stared into those golden eyes, and took another deep breath, and following the pause, continued. 
“The dreams… I had a child.” Wilheim’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Not just Strawberry, I- I made-” He swallowed. “His name was Hazel. He- He’s a possible future for me, and- the others.”
He was at the top of the stairs, just 20 metres away from The Provider. “I made promises to protect them, to keep them safe, to help them when they needed it. And I’ve seen them die.. So many times. How many more times do I have to see that before I start regretting the choice to join you?”

The Provider sighed, and said “Sit.”
The next second, Wilheim was seated in a room he hadn’t seen before.
It had similar decor to the other rooms he’d been in, with the velvet walls, the long Arboridium table, and dim, orange lighting.

“Your mother was a very loyal servant.” It began. “She did her duty, and what I asked of her. It was a dream contract for most humans nowadays- being asked to be the deadliest person in the world, in exchange for only four days working a month, and she did that. She was good enough to get her jobs done in the time I asked her to do them, and then had the rest of her time to herself.”
It looked at him, having had its clothes switched. Wilheim hadn’t noticed, but it was now in a crisp white shirt, and black waistcoat, the light still not enough to make out any details on its face, other than the eyes. ”You though, Wilheim. You were immediately better. You thought that even 5 days a week wasn’t enough. You were eager to please, to go above and beyond, to improve, to be better, to learn. And since I started selecting individuals to be my avatar, each one has done as I asked, nothing more. Which is why I like you, Wilheim.”
Wilheim’s face didn’t change, but inside, his mind was racing. 
“Wilheim, I’ve thought about this for a while. You’ve done the work of what 50 avatars would do in a million years, in 70 years, by yourself. You’re truly a credit to yourself, and I’m honoured to have you as my servant.”
Wilheim studied the unwavering brim of the hat, wondering where the catch was. 
The Provider stared at him, looking deep in his eyes, its own eyes narrowing. 
“Despite having a typically short time as my avatar so far, the work you’ve done is immeasurable, and I wanted a way out for you, that wouldn’t require you to die.”
It took a deep breath. 
“Which is why I have been entertaining the idea of you being my Vassal.”

-

Wilheim’s shock was so apparent in that moment. 
He would have responded, flattered and eloquent, but his words came out more like “Ug huhg whal-” He shook his head and cleared his throat, and tried again. “What??”
The Provider looked at him properly. 
“If you choose to accept this, it wont be easy.” Its voice was stern, and strict. “You’ll go through emotional battles, fears, and dangerous places in your mind. Places you’d wish never to go to in your actual life. You’d have to kill like you never have before.”
Wilheim nodded, eyes still wide. 
“Dreams like nothing of those that you were experiencing. They’ll be more real, more intense, and have more effect on what you take out of it.” It paused, before elaborating. 
“Your… friends, Wilheim. You’ll have to kill them.”
Wilheim’s shock and excitement faded immediately, and he looked away from the Provider. 
“In- a dream, so to speak. They won’t come to harm in the Valley.” It hastily added.
The tension was removed from Wilheim as soon as it had arrived, and he sighed, pondering. 

“It will feel like torture.” The Provider said, after he didn’t speak.
“But you wont have to worry about having that responsibility to me anymore. You can live your life as you would without me, except you’d be immortal, and those around you would live prolonged lifespans. You’d be able to return here whenever you’d want, you’d have a larger room, place to stay, you would be able to bring guests for a while… and if you so desired, you’d be able to hide yourself from me. You’d have a perimeter around you where, if you had it enabled, I would not know where you are, or what you are doing.”

“Why?” Wilheim asked, not trusting of the fact that this god would give him deserved space and privacy that he hadn’t had for the past 70 years.
“Because, trust is a thing that even I must learn.” The Provider continued, with a sigh. “And who better than to start with you. You’ve been reliable from the start, and conscious of the mission, a fantastic asset, and have developed some interesting wisdom to impart to those you meet.”
Wilheim frowned. “So, you’d… essentially promote me? Into someone that has no duties, yet has the powers and abilities of an avatar, and the ability to hide oneself from you, freedom to return to the Halls of Providence as one wishes, guests included…” He faltered. “But I have to kill Emissary and Matern and Strawberry and Ghost and Andor and whoever else, in my mind, and then some.”
The Provider nodded, satisfied. “Most of those, and among other things, yes. Sometimes it will be lessons of restraint, some will be the measure at which you exact revenge. But all of them will have your mental state monitored, and if it is not satisfactory, then we will restart until you learn the correct way. And it will not get easier.”

“Hmm.” Wilheim knew that it wasn't as easy as it sounded. He wouldn’t know if he was back or still in his dream, he wouldn’t remember the objective, and he wouldn’t be able to fail.
But the freedom… he’d been wishing for that the moment he started feeling these feelings. He felt awful about the fact that he’d have to eventually leave them, and continue his work, and only see them once every so often. Maybe a lifetime would pass before he’d get a break. Time worked weirdly with the Provider. 
“I would like the freedom, this is true. And as long as you give me your word that anyone I encounter in my dreams will not come to any true harm, then… I’ll do it.”
The Provider nodded, with Wilheim sensing a smile. 
“Good.”

A day or so passed, and Wilheim familiarised himself with his room again, and the layout of the Halls of Providence. It changed frequently, so finding the lesser known parts was a mindless way of entertaining himself. 
When he was finally summoned by the Provider again, he was brought to a room more comfortable and relaxing than his own, and had two large soft chairs, a roaring fire behind a grate, some refreshments on an ornate sideboard, and a large mirror atop the hearth. 
The Provider was seated, facing the fire. 
“Wilheim. It is time.”



Wilheim took a seat opposite the Provider, taking off his own hat, and placing it on his lap, got comfortable. 
The Provider’s eyes flicked to him, and they silently looked at each other for a minute. 
“What is about to happen, is that you will stare into this fire, and enter a trance, and fall asleep. And your dreams will be vivid and intense initially, and then you will enter into the test. You won’t wake up again until all the tasks are completed, or in the case of a catastrophe. And you must remember that your decisions have to be correct, otherwise this will take a long time.”
Wilheim nodded confidently. “As long as it takes.”
The Provider stared at him again, and it made Wilheim uneasy. 
“Are you ready?”

He nodded, one final time, and directed his gaze at the fire.
SQDSMP

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