My back rested comfortably in a padded chair, arms placed on the armrest. In front of me, there was a man. Piercing blue eyes looking into mine with curiosity. He had short black hair and he seemed to be around his thirties.

Not wanting to let the silence linger, I took the first step.

“Good evening.”

His hand stroked a white persian cat that laid on his lap.

“Is it?” A faint smile tugged his lips. “I suppose we can say that. We own time after all, at least for a while, at least here.” His face looked serene. He was dressed in a wine silk robe instead of the standard company suit I was using. “But first, I think I must apologize. You were supposed to meet me yesterday, but I was delayed. Thankfully, Mister Milch was kind enough to replace me.” The man exalted charm and confidence. A delicate face and delicate manners. “My name is Oberyn Miltos, I will be your teacher for this evening.” His voice was soothing, barely higher than a whisper.

“Forgive me but I am a little confused about my schedule.”

“Both Mister Milch and I are tasked with teaching you basic skills so you can thrive in your life as an agent. Sundays are mine, Mondays belong to Mister Milch. The skillful gunslinger is being kind enough to help us with your training. Francis requested him personally from a friendly branch.”

“However, that is not an excuse for my absence, I am one of your brothers in arms and I should’ve been here yesterday to greet you properly, unfortunately life has plans of its own. Does my explanation suffice, Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes, I understand, but please call me Ern.”

He chuckled, his smile pristine. “That sounds cozy. I think I will.” He lifted his hand slowly, like he was lifting something through an invisible thread. An exquisite antique table appeared between us. It was made of porcelain, golden engravings feeling the surface. “Usually I start my day with tea, perhaps coffee, but I’m feeling bold today, Mister Mon…” He cleared his throat. “Ern.” He put his hand over his chin, pondering. “What about milkshakes?” He smiled. Repeating the question while he faced his cat. “What about milkshakes, Gilly? Would you like that?”

The cat didn’t respond, so I did.

“Sounds like a treat.” It was so good to have somebody polite for once. Between Cedric’s absence, my terrifying encounter with Sweeney, and the antics from Julia and David; my threshold for manners reached a new low. I didn’t realize how much I was missing a civil conversation until I was sitting there.

Oberyn opened his arms and immediately cakes, tarts and other sweets appeared on the table, alongside them two giant glittering cups of milkshake. They weren’t classy, but they did look delicious.

“Ah... a feast for the soul,” the man giggled as he gestured for me to take the first step. “Mine oh mine, I almost forgot.” He made another fluid hand gesture. Nothing happened but after five point three seconds I received a notification.

“Your enhancement constraints have been lifted. You are now free to purchase the skills available to you.”

“Now let's talk shop, shall we?” He clapped excitedly. Either his enthusiasm was contagious or my greed was insurmountable, probably both. “I received the readings that Mister Cunningham took from you.”

His eyes held a very clear shade of blue, they were moving back and forth at an outrageous speed, undoubtedly reading whatever Cedric collected during his stay. With nothing better to do I kept looking into them. What exquisite color it was. It was probably turquoise, maybe cyan? I can’t te… I can… I can tell. The doubt vanished completely. His eye color is turquoise without a shadow of a doubt. Language acquisition was growing in fascinating ways, I wondered what deliberate practice could achieve.

“Everything here seems fine. Your physical stats are average to slightly below average. Normal since you used to be a teacher. You are very well rounded to be honest, that’s a plus, but I expected more from Francis. I know that little devil saw something in you, besides your manners and great company, of course.” He giggled, putting his hand over his mouth. “What skills do you have right now?”

“Language acquisitions.”

“Useful.”

“Time-management.”

“That is why you’re one of us, sweetie.”

“Elemental manipulation.”

“Mandatory, not much to see there.”

Oberyn put his cat on the floor and sat a little bit straighter, crossing his legs before he began to mumble to himself. “That’s not it. That is… not… it. What am I missing…” He stood tapping his mouth with his finger, looking immersed in his thoughts. At some point, he tilted his head, staring at me. “What is available for you to buy?”

“Sleep bank.”

“Boring.”

“Memory enhancement.”

“Tedious.”

“Time capsule-enhancement.”

“Understandable.” His eyes darted towards the infinite space that laid in front of us. “I will never forgive myself if I don’t find it. Francis would mock me for decades. Aren’t you the Visir?” His shoulder danced in mockery. The last phrase was a spot on impression of Frank. He continued mumbling to himself. “Not what he possesses. Not what he can possess. How he can possess it? It can’t be…. It has to be.” A grin appeared on his face, he shuffled his hands excitedly. “Give it to me, sugar! How much?”

“How much what?”

He rolled his eyes. “The price on your skills, how much?”

“Sleep bank, five hundred fifty.”

“You could have skipped that one, next. Memory enhancement?”

“Three hundred fifty… wait, three hundred and fifteen.”

“Normal.”

“But it is boosted.”

“Good for you but still normal.” He stood up from his chair, his fists closed. Excitement shone through his eyes. His robe fluttered majestically against the wind, despite the lack of any wind. “The last one, Ern. Tell me what I wanna hear.”

“Time-capsule.”

“Yes.”

“Forty.”

His mouth dropped low, which caught me by surprise. It was hanging wide open, while his fists remained closed in front of him, his entire body frozen in time. “Beg a pardon?” he said.

“Forty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not that many numbers to be unsure.”

He crossed his arms, a serious look took place. “Here is what I want you to do. Ask your operator to send me the price stat of your time-capsule enhancement.” He pointed his finger at me. “More than that, ask him to filter, including undistilled stats and any mitigating or enhancing variables.”

“You heard him.”

“I’m on it

Transferred… Received.”

Oberyn squinted his eyes while he analyzed whatever it was that Molly just sent him. After a long time he spoke again. “You know what I like about Francis? He is the most deceitful honest man I have ever met in my life.”

He sat back on his chair looking towards the ceiling made solely of a blank space. To my surprise, stars waltzed into the emptiness, putting color where it was none, before I could lose myself in introspection Oberyn continued.

“You see… time, in all its wonderful colors, is our thing, so we measure ourselves by how fast we can progress. How talented are we? Boosted skills, ultra skills… Half human, half angel… Conscripting prodigies and warriors made legends… But what if we took a step back? Turn over the table?”

“So my pumpled friend did just that. What if we don’t have to be special? Not at all. Can we make extraordinary things through ordinary means? That's how Francis thought about it, I am sure of it. Your uniqueness is hidden like the murder weapon from a perfect crime, in plain sight for everybody to see.”

“Which is...”

“Time. You are not faster than anybody, you just can run much longer than everybody else.” A giggle escaped his lips. “Don’t know if it will work, but it looks interesting. I like it.”

The conversation was making me a little anxious to be honest. This uniqueness, as Oberyn put it, was never mentioned by Frank. “Do you care to elaborate?”

“We are a branch that has a very strong attachment to time. Different branches have different specialties, ranging from energy manipulation, through body strength, or even mind manipulation, but we took it a step further. Choosing a slower approach even when compared to our own.”

“Not every branch capitalizes on that innate advantage, most people are just too eager. But it is the way our branch decided to do things and that is why I also chose it when I had the chance.” He has fingers intertwined over his lap. “Tell me one thing, how much do you pay to use the time-capsule for a day?”

Shrugging, I respond. “Currently nothing, but after this week is over I must pay four golden years a day.”

“Predictable and ludicrous. Let me tell you something, the average agent would pay four golden centuries a day to have the same privilege, as he or she purchases more upgrades, even more. Agents in our branch pay on average one hundred and fifty golden years a day to use it. From all the people I had access to, there is one man on the Seven Branch that started on thirty five and one in our branch who started with forty two golden years, nobody pays four, Ern. Ever.”

“Time-capsule is a crucial skill, but at one point it becomes too expensive to upgrade.” He seemed lost in his musings before his bright eyes peered into mine once again. “Uhm, but I would like to know what you think. Why do you think your time is so cheap?”

Once again I didn’t have a clue. I shifted in my chair, not knowing wasn’t something I was accustomed to. “I don’t know, Oberyn.”

Oberyn made a dismissive wave of hand. “Don’t worry, there is no right or wrong answer. Just try.”

“Knowing as little as I do, I can only make some conjectures.”

He moved his hand signaling me to go on.

“Well, to love history it is to love time itself, whatever criteria the system uses to evaluate how much something should cost must be connected in some way to the innate predispositions the said agent has or aspires to have.”

He uncrossed and crossed his legs again, his face resting on his hand as he measured me with a contemplative look.

“That is remarkably accurate. We call it synchronicity; it is the unknown factor that every agent has. Can’t be purchased, induced or created. It is one of the mysteries about this strange blood that runs through our veins.”

Taking his time, Oberyn took a large sip from his glittering cup of milkshake. I used this time to breathe and ponder about the implications of all the things I learned until now.

All around us the background was getting busier and busier. Stars moved freely from the ceiling, black and indigo colors painted the vastness that unrolled before our eyes. Some time passed by, some delicious treats got eaten. A stubborn cat remained unsatisfied with their own share and finally Oberyn broke the silence. “Do you still have six golden centuries in your bank account?”

“Five hundred and ninety two golden years, sir.”

“Drop the sir. You should expect more upgrades to become available as you enhance your previous abilities. For purists such as us, personal growth is more important than buying enhancements, but the latter can also be a source of growth on its own.

“Purists?”

“People that don’t imprint. But don’t let me keep you waiting. Upgrade your time-capsule and see if something else appears.”

I did as I was told and asked Molly to check for new upgrades.

“New upgrades since the previous check.

Time-capsule enhancement (II)

This upgrade is intrinsic to your horologium, currently your time on the capsule mimics your time on earth [Current ratio 2:1]. Every level of this enhancement adds one point to the current ratio.

Past version: [Upgrade [0] 8x8]

Current version: [Upgrade [I] 16x8]

Next version: [Upraged [II] 24x8]

Upgrade cost: 68 golden years.”

“Time-capsule is can be upgraded again for sixty eight golden years.”

Oberyn shook his head. “That shouldn’t be possible, usually you have to use the capsule for at least a thousand hours until you get another upgrade, paying almost triple the original amount.” He motioned me to go on, an audible sigh could be heard. “Francis you little devil…” he mumbled.

I used my money to pay for another upgrade, no new abilities appeared this time.

“That’s it, nothing new.”

“That is already too much, Ern.”

Oberyn stood up, his short stature and short black hair reminded me of a tiny emperor. I stood up too. As he opened his arms, the chairs, the table and the sweets vanished in the blink of an eye. “Ta-da!” he exclaimed in a sing-song voice. He put his hands behind his back and started strolling through the universe. “You and I will establish a routine together. Kneading is a passion of mine and knead we will, dear Ern.” He turned around facing me once again. “What do you think?”

I cleared my throat. “What is kneading exactly?”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “So much to learn.” He shook his head. “Children these days…” he whispered to himself. “Elemental manipulation, Ern. We will train elemental manipulation and we will talk about the books that I will also provide for you to read.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you Oberyn.”

He dismissed my gratitude with a wave of hand. “Don’t be silly. That is why I am here. Anything else you want to ask me before we begin?”

“Why am I learning to shoot and to… knead at the same time?”

“Oh, it does seem confusing, I thought Mister Milch would’ve already explained this to you. I apologize.” Oberyn lifted his hand and opened his palm. From there, thin threads emerged, forming the sketch of a human being. Rushed strokes painted a life-like puppet. His strings were cobalt blue, tiny stars shining inside of them.

The puppet had my likeness and the same shoulder carry. Like me, he tried to draw his weapon and the same scenario repeated itself. An ember of the fire I put out threatened to reach the surface, I decided to trust my gut feeling. Oberyn didn’t strike me as someone who enjoyed mocking other people, so I let the silence linger as I watched the puppet go through the motions of my embarrassing scene.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice was no more than a whisper.

“It does. Why couldn’t I draw my pistol back then?” I asked, eagerness in my voice.

His face didn’t move, still looking at the puppet. “See for yourself.”

The scene repeated once again, but this time new threads were added to the main character. There was this vibrant raspberry color in the pit of my stomach. As my hand slowly moved towards my pistol, the threads gained life, pumping from my heart and going straight through my hands. When my hand finally got a hold of the grip the threads involved the entire piece. When I yanked the gun, the threads pulsed enveloping my holster. I pulled once and twice, but the threads resisted. On the third time they were torn apart.

“My manipulation ability made me blunder.”

“Your manipulation ability saved your life, you would never be able to draw in time to stop him. It was a sad accident but a lucky one.”

“What can I do to make sure this doesn’t happen next time?”

He chuckled. “Learn, Ern. Learn.”