Ryan rubbed his eye sleepily with his fist and let out a long, drawn-out yawn, nearly dislocating his jaw.

  "That's it, Ryan," Lianel cut in firmly. "To bed. Now." "I'll only go to sleep when you guys do!" the squirt stubbornly jutted out his lower lip. A true aristocrat: even when falling asleep on his feet, he continued to demand his rights.

  Lianel sighed, exchanging a look with Alexia. "Alright. One last game then. And after that—no excuses." "Deal," Ryan instantly perked up, fished a deck of cards out from somewhere, and handed them to his sister.

  Lianel started dealing. Standard "Fool." The most honest game in the world: either you strike, or you get struck.

  I had my own tactic. Deep and highly calculated. I was simply collecting the pretty cards. You know, so the pictures matched in color and pattern. Victory? Who needs it? Numbers are boring. Aesthetics are eternal.

  Ryan peeked at my cards (I wasn't even trying to hide them) and his eyes went wide. "Man, Greg, what are you doing? What kind of tactic is that? You're going to end up the Fool!" "I don't know, Ryan," I answered lazily, admiring how nicely the red Jack paired with the Queen. "I'm playing for pleasure. Sitting here calculating who threw what and how many trumps are left... That's work. I'm on vacation. The brain needs to be lazy sometimes too."

  Lianel smirked victoriously and tossed her last card onto the table. "Ha! I'm out first. I'm free." "Damn it..." I twirled my cards in my hands. "I've got a pair of sixes here ruining everything. The whole aesthetic of the hand is ruined. They're just so... gray."

  Alexia went out next, elegantly covering her empty hands with a fan. And then Ryan, bouncing joyfully on the couch. "Hahaha! Greg is the Fool! Greg is the Fool!" "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, laying my "garbage" cards out on the table. "Couldn't get the perfect composition. That one six ruined the whole thing."

  Ryan froze, squinting slyly. The little gears in his head started spinning at a terrifying speed. "Right, so what does the loser have to do? Ahem... let me think. Oh! I know!" He swept his gaze over all of us. "Greg, you have to grant one wish for each of us."

  I tensed up. "Wishes? Alright, squirt. But let's set some ground rules: something actually doable. Don't ask me to pull the moon out of the sky or make you taller than Lianel overnight. I'm a mage, not a miracle worker from a cheap fairy tale." "Yes, yes, yes!" Ryan nodded vigorously, already hard at work inventing something.

  Silence hung in the room, but it was a very... suspicious silence. I felt like I had made a grave mistake agreeing to this clause.

  Ryan thought for so agonizingly long that I actually started having a waking dream without even closing my eyes. His face contorted into such complex shapes it looked like he was trying to solve the equation of the universe in his head rather than pick a gift.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Listen, Ryan," I finally broke. "How about I bring your sword to life? You know, so it jumps into your hand on its own and stuff like that."

  The squirt's eyes lit up. "Bring a sword to life?! Yes!"

  He bolted from his spot and ran off somewhere into the bowels of the castle. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then Lianel locked her eyes on me. Her gaze was heavy, calculating.

  "Greg... Since we're handing out prizes... Make me a dummy. Like Anna's. But better."

  I scratched the back of my head. "Clay again? Alright, let's get sculpting."

  I stood up and cracked my knuckles. Mana flowed obediently into my palms, pulling material right out of the floor and the air. Alright, four arms—that's the baseline. But the baseline is boring.

  "Let's add a tail," I muttered. "For balance. And... oh, right! Hidden daggers in the heels and elbows. Give her a nice surprise."

  Lianel watched the process with terrifying excitement. "Alright, four eyes so it can see a full three-sixty... ears..." I paused. "Lianel, does it need a mouth? So it can lecture you about life, like Anna's does?" "Yes," she said firmly. "Let it speak." "Well, you're the boss. A mouth it is."

  The dummy was almost finished. All that was left was the most tedious part—the knowledge. "Right, sword techniques, tactics, defense..." I yawned. "You know what, I'm too lazy to code everything down to the smallest detail. I'm just going to implant the seeds of a living intellect into it. Let it develop on its own, analyze your mistakes, and adapt."

  I slapped the golem on the shoulder. "Done. I don't know if it'll try to assassinate you on the very first night; theoretically, it shouldn't. But if I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open."

  At that moment, Ryan flew back into the room, dragging his training sword. "HEYYYYY!" he shrieked, seeing Lianel's four-armed monster. "THAT'S NOT FAIR! Why does she get something so cool, and I just get a sword?!" "Too late, Ryan," I smirked. "You already picked your wish. Give me your piece of iron."

  I took the sword. For it to become truly active, it needed a power source. A mana crystal. Preferably a powerful one.

  Without a second thought, the kid dashed over to his brand-new, obscenely expensive sarcophagus-box, yanked out that pretentious staff, and... CRACK! He simply snapped off a piece of the pommel right along with the gemstone.

  I froze. "Ryan, are you aware that this staff costs about as much as a small city?" "Who cares!" he waved it off, handing me the glowing shard. "Will this work?" "It'll work," I suppressed a laugh. "The King is going to murder you, but the sword will be very happy."

  I embedded the crystal into the hilt and whispered a few binding sequences. The sword in my hand vibrated faintly. "Here." "And?" Ryan twirled it. "It's not moving. It's not alive!" "Whether it's alive or not depends on you. The more you train with it, the more you pour your own will into it, the more it will wake up. This is a partner, not a slave. Learn to negotiate with it."

  Ryan nodded importantly, clutching the sword to his chest.

  "That's it, Ryan," Lianel grabbed her new clay friend. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow is a long day." "Aw, man... fine. Goodnight, Greg."

  They left. Lianel dragging her dummy, Ryan cradling his sword. Silence fell over the room.

  I was left alone with Alexia. She sat on the couch, her chin resting on her hand, looking at me as if I were the most fascinating and simultaneously the most dangerous thing in the world.

  I felt a chill run down my spine. Ryan and Lianel's wishes were simple—they wanted power. But Alexia...

  I didn't know what she was going to ask for. But my intuition was screaming at the top of its lungs: "Greg, run! Jump out the window!"

  It was going to be something bad. I could feel it.