“Which side are we on?” I asked.

“Let me put it this way, Walter,” he said with a sly grin. “It is much more interesting to be a bad guy.”

Now, I would say that it’s easier to be a bad guy. But despite all the pain he inflicted on me later, and how he treated me and those who were dear to me, I still saw him as a kindred spirit. Knowing the truth about him, I still felt we had the same philosophy – and I still do.

The Mentor told me that our power has different manifestations, though we can all influence the material world and the minds of living beings, but in a different way and to a different degree. My path was to create illusions and the Mentor could control weather, which I witnessed first-hand a little bit later. “You should have a strong body as well as a strong spirit,” he told me.

He taught me to fence and hunt. I studied martial arts and philosophy, languages and history, physics and chemistry. What the Mentor told me differed from what I learned at school, but it was much more interesting. I was rediscovering a world that I always knew, and I realised that I didn’t know anything at all! I felt an irresistible desire to learn more, to know more. More, more, more!

Since the day I became the Mentor’s apprentice, I stopped working for him. I had more free time, which I happily spent exploring my new home. What I had taken for a small one-story burgundy painted farmhouse, was, in fact, a huge medieval castle with towers, stone staircases and passages, and endless rooms, doors and windows. Step by step I was trying to understand this phenomenon, and gradually I began to get used to the idea that in this world even the impossible was possible.

The castle was gloomy and cold. The Mentor occupied just a couple of rooms in the south wing, and the rest were empty or locked. The wind howled through the long corridors with darkened walls and ancient suits of armour covered with dust. Heavy velvet curtains embroidered with gold hadn’t been opened for hundreds of years. The smell of damp, mould and old age wafted from every corner. Hundreds of priceless artefacts were rotten, destroyed by time. I wanted to clean out the debris, to open the curtains and let the fresh breeze into the dark stone rooms. But when I approached the Mentor with this idea, he said, “Why do you care, Walter? This castle has been dead for many years. Spend your time on education. It is more important to you now than raising dust and digging out this junk.”

And so I studied.

Winter was coming. The first frosts fell. Heavy clouds were hanging over the castle. Now and then the cold, drizzling rain painted the already gloomy landscape into depressive black and brown tones. I had no desire to go outside in such weather. Although inside wasn’t much better. Living rooms were heated by the fireplaces, but it was still pretty cold. My fingers and feet were always freezing. I know I’ll never forget that feeling.

I spent all my time in the Mentor’s study. When he was at home, he was sitting at his desk writing something, or giving me lectures. Sometimes he gave me books that I had to study myself. He had lots of books, old and new. Books with notes, comments and bookmarks. He was serious about my education and was strict in testing me. As a rule, that happened on Tuesdays. He took his chair by the fireplace and started to ask questions on whole topics. Our conversations lasted several hours. He made me think, analyse, evaluate, and scolded me when I was just trying to memorise something. We argued, joked and disputed. What a wonderful time that was in my life … I wish it had lasted longer.