<h3 style="text-align: center">~ Cang Di — Uldara cannot into Diplomacy? ~


    <hr>


    *Rat-a-tat-tat*


    *—Aoooooooooooon*


    *Rat-a-tat-tat—*


    *—Aaaahaaaannnnn*


    “…”


    The sound of distant cheering cut through the hubbub of the main courtyard of the grand palace of Uldara, where visitors arrived. He had expected that they would just be receiving this group in a formal hall, but it turned out that the whole event had sort of morphed and grown since they were initially informed that attendance would be required. Word had also clearly spread to those beyond the palace itself, and those visiting, because most of the groups who had been arriving for the auction and other events of the day had seemingly opted to hang around in the grand courtyard as well.


    “See, I told you, it will be performative nonsense,” Lissaea muttered to Erishkira, as the distant cheering intensified.


    The ‘envoy’ for the arrivals, who had seemingly run ahead to deliver the news, and who was standing a few paces away, scowled at the pair, seemingly unaware of their status.


    In fact, the one doing the formal receiving was Quaruna herself, now standing at the top of the stairs, in her ‘dress regalia’ she had worn earlier, flanked by her personal guards and Kuresa. The rest of them, along with a few other nobles, who he recognised from the prior day’s events, were standing in the shade of the colonnade, back from the steps itself, because even now, despite the early hour, the sun was already starting to heat the courtyard up.


    “Is this normal?” he asked Nisa, who was standing just to his left, quietly.


    “For this lot? Yes,” Nisa replied with a shrug. “They love to play up to the masses. It’s almost a thing of pride, I guess. I sort of assumed they had already gotten this bit of the whole thing out of the way, but it seems they want to make a statement…”


    Her gaze also flitted to the envoy, who affected not to notice the looks he was getting from the palace functionaries.


    If he had to bet on who had spread that word, he wouldn’t want to place spirit stones against it being the envoy himself. He was dressed in bright, polished scale mail that fell to his knees. Under it, he had a blue cloth tunic, embroidered with bronze and silver cloud patterns, while around his shoulders was a loose, voluminous, white and blue cloak, held in place by a golden broach. Unlike the local Ur, who seemed to prefer to wear their hair long, or tied up behind their heads, his dark locks were braided, and his face was marked by three sets of three golden, fan-like marks, one on each cheek, and the last on his forehead. In short, he had that sort of heraldic vibe you learned to recognise if you were around large sects for any length of time.


    A moment later, the distant drums and horns shifted, morphing into something more melodious and rhythmically paced, so you could march to it, with a rousing beat carried by whatever piped instruments were providing the tune itself. It certainly cut through the clamour of those looking on, and even at this distance he could faintly feel a sense of martial ambience from it, that suggested whoever was playing had some notable accomplishments not just in the music, but in the spiritual aspect of warfare itself.


    At that point, those nearest the entrance to the courtyard started to move away from it, and some thirty seconds or so later, the procession finally passed through, led by several running and dancing children, who were whooping and cheering, and throwing lotus petals and flowers in the air.


    Immediately after them, came a woman who had to be ‘Sigurdrifa’. Clad in a pristine white and blue tunic, over which she wore a coat of shimmering, iridescent scale mail, she had the commanding presence he could only associate with a formidable Martial Cultivator who was at least at the Martial Sovereign realm. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, and in place of her helmet, which was slung at her waist, she had a lotus flower stuck jauntily behind one ear. She was also strikingly tall, at nearly six-foot seven.


    Behind her, came three Ur of much more normal stature, though clad in the same manner as the envoy. The right hand one held aloft a shield, emblazoned with a golden sun on a blue background, its middle hollowed out to show a rearing golden horse. The middle one held a banner, emblazoned with the same golden horse on a blue background, while below it, was smaller vertical banner closely embroidered with runic writing. The left-hand warrior, who was also female, held a sword that given its size had to belong to Sigurdrifa.


    “Sigurdrifa!”


    “Sigurdrifa!”


    “Sigurdrifa!”


    The crowd in the courtyard started to chant her name, as more people miraculously found flower petals and actual flowers to throw.


    “So… the performance has already started?”


    He turned to find Lord Mur had also arrived, accompanied by his wife.


    “You haven’t missed much,” one of the other lords watching on remarked drily as Sigurdrifa began her slow, measured walk across the courtyard, moving perfectly in time to the music and the drumbeats.


    After her, came a group of six youthful Ur, led by a beautiful, raven-haired young woman, dressed in a deep green tunic, over which she wore bronze-coloured mail, who was only a head shorter than Sigurdrifa.


    “—Althildr?” Lord Mur exclaimed, as there was a susurration of shock and awe from the watching crowd as she walked through the gate.


    “It seems she has advanced in strength,” Lissaea mused, as the young woman, who waved brightly to the crowd, then caught a thrown flower from a young girl and stuck it in her hair as well.


    Indeed, he could feel a faint sense of pressure off of her, and there was a fluidness to her presence that hinted at her martial skill, and suggested to him that she was, if not actually the local equivalent of a Dao Immortal, then pretty much at the peak of Ancient Immortal. The others beside her were no less formidable in that regard. All five were close to the strength of the old Ur he had clashed with back on the plains, with Althildr herself putting him in mind of Ilkurz, but with an even more refined martial presence.


    “That is your cousin, isn’t it?” Nisa remarked to Garesh, pointing out the youth on the far right-hand side of the group. “Wasn’t he only at the sixth advancement when he left?”


    “Yeah…” Garesh replied, grimacing.


    “Who are the others?” he asked Nisa.


    “The tall one in the middle, with the axe and the plaited beard, is Prince Jaroz of Katum,” Nisa answered, pointing out the tallest warrior after Althildr. “The woman to his right, with the blonde hair, is Marinthe of the Flame Heart Tribe—she is famous for being the first mana-blade from a tribal power in a few centuries. The dark-haired woman beside her is Erisul, from another noble family here in Uldara. They are part of the same political group as Lord Maroz, who you had the pleasure of meeting earlier. Then beside her is Arrok, who you heard nothing good about earlier. As to the youth to Jaroz’s other side, I dunno, I guess by his armour he is also from Katum, or one of the city-powers on their border.”


    “The group behind are Fate Touched, from Caeracht,” Garesh added. “Elite soldiers, who answer only to Great Sorceress Grimvak and her top Lieutenants, like Lady Sigurdrifa.”


    As the two of them were speaking, the rest of the column were making their way into the courtyard, led by three more banner-carriers, holding aloft flags with a golden deer on a green background, an eagle and a sun on a purple-blue background, and the dove and crescent moon of Uldara, on deep reddish purple. Immediately behind were three pipers, playing large bagpipes and six drummers. After them came a dozen tall, muscular Ur, each only a little shorter than Althildr, carrying an assortment of different weapons—halberds, warhammers, two-handed axes, long swords and long-bladed spears. All of them were pretty close to being Quasi-Dao Immortals if he was any judge, and some of them were almost as old as he was. Finally, behind them, the rest of the troop, numbering about sixty, all told, were arranged into two parallel columns, the right hand one was uniformly armed with swords, axes, shields and short bows, while the left was dressed in the same manner as the guards and soldiers he had seen around Uldara, with spears and broad shields.


    “Glory to the returning heroes!” someone yelled out of the crowd


    “Glory to Lord Mazarash!”


    “Glory to Uldara!”


    The various shouts and salutes almost drowned out the music for a while as the troop came to a stop below the steps, the soldiers still marching on the spot, in time to the music, until the tune ended a few seconds later, with a soaring, final note, and all the soldiers stopped as one.


    At the top of the steps, Quaruna and Kuresa watched impassively as Sigurdrifa, Althildr, Jaroz and then the other youths made their way up to where they were waiting.


    “Uldara greets you, Lady of Caermar,” Quaruna announced formally, raising her hands to the sky and then bowing slightly to Sigurdrifa. As she spoke, two servants standing nearby, tossed lotus petals on the ground between Sigurdrifa and Quaruna.


    “In Our Lady’s Name, I greet thee, Lady Kara-Uanna, daughter of Asherida, daughter of Meuanna, daughter of Ninzaluanna, whose golden light blesses all our paths,” Sigurdrifa replied, spreading her arms and bowing and lowering her head a touch to Quaruna.


    “Uldara greets you, Lady of Daermath,” Quaruna continued, turning to Althildr and bowing again in the same manner as more flower petals were tossed down.


    “I, Althildr, daughter of Starhildr, daughter of Maerdath, granddaughter of Starkadr, greet thee, Lady Kara-Uanna,” Althildr replied, also bowing, though again, not quite as much.


    “Got some attitude, that girl has,” Erishkira murmured under her breath.


    “It comes from her grandfather, I am sure,” Lissaea replied, rolling her eyes.


    Lord Mur shook his head in amusement as well, garnering another sideways look from the envoy.


    -I’ll have to ask Quaruna or Erishkira about her later, he considered inwardly, observing the reaction of those around him, which was as focused on Althildr’s presence as Sigurdrifa’s in many ways.


    “She is certainly popular with those in the square,” Dongmei murmured, taking in the still chanting and singing crowd. Here and there, young girls were already squabbling over flowers of the type Althildr had put in her hair and youths were declaring that they would certainly go, the next time Caeracht called. It was almost to the point where he swore Althildr was getting side-eye from some of her own party, notably Jaroz and Arrok.


    “Her star has… risen quickly,” Nisa agreed, almost sounding a little… well, not envious, but certainly perturbed, he thought.


    The formal greetings continued while they were chatting, with Jaroz also stepping forward and introducing himself as the son of a Consul of Katum. Next was the other male warrior, who was indeed also from Katum, and who turned out to be called Baresh.


    “They will be at this a while,” Lissaea informed quietly them as Marinthe stepped forward. “We can go to the reception hall.”


    Erishkira nodded and turned on her heel, waving for Qing Dongmei to follow her and Lissaea as they made their way back into the interior of the Palace. The walk to the main reception hall was not long, and by the time they got there, Kazdrad, the Master of Uldara and Quaruna’s mother Asherida were already seated on the raised dais that presided over the room, conferring in hushed voices with some bureaucrats, while other lords and ladies milled about, talking amongst themselves.


    “Ah, Lady Lissaea!” the Master of Uldara called out, spotting them as they began to make their way along the side of the hall.


    “Lord Master,” Lissaea saluted him politely as Lord Mur and Erishkira came to stand beside her, the emissary following along as well. The rest of their group all bowed more formally, so he just copied what Nisa and Garesh were doing, but bowed a little deeper than they did.


    “And Lord Mur and Lady Erishkira as well,” the Master added, beckoning their whole group forward. “Excellent, excellent.”


    “Your daughter is currently accepting their greetings,” Lissaea informed him, as they approached the raised dais. “They will have to ritually surrender their arms and give offerings in the ante-hall, so…”


    “They will be a while,” Asherida remarked, drily. “No doubt milking every moment for what it is worth?”


    “As is tradition,” Lissaea replied with a shrug.


    “Lady Erishkira, I have been informed of some… matters, so I would be honoured if you would stand with Lady Lissaea, to receive our guests,” Master Kazdrad interjected, before fixing his gaze on him. “It seems you have really hit it off with my daughter, Hunter Kang.”


    Rather than say anything, he just opted to bow respectfully, as that didn’t really have the vibe of a question and more of an acknowledgement that nothing really escaped notice in a place like this.


    That seemed to be the right choice in the moment, to his relief, as his action drew an approving nod from Lord Mur, and also an amused slight smile from the Master himself. It also caused the Emissary, who was hanging back, to give him a second, longer look.


    “You may stand over to the side of the dais,” Lissaea instructed them, pointing to a couch and table just to the right.


    “—Kazdrad…” a Lord standing beside Maroz stepped forward, scowling. “They—”


    “This is my wish, Koresh,” Lissaea cut the protesting lord off with a simple look.


    Lord Koresh’s expression turned flat and he bowed deeply, then backed away, though he noticed that the others in Maroz’s group were still giving them gloomy looks. Ghrazir was also there, talking quietly with a veiled Ur woman of some notable beauty, who occasionally glanced in their direction as well.


    “Trouble is like a ghost, huh,” Qing Dongmei muttered to him as they quickly stepped around the edge of the dais.


    “—hard to pin down, and always where you least desire it?” he replied drily, noting that the emissary had gone over to Maroz’s group. “Isn’t that monkeys, though?”


    “Ghosts, Monkeys,” she replied airily, sitting down on the couch and patting the spot beside her quite pointedly.


    Rolling his eyes, he sat down beside her. Nisa and Garesh took the other couch. A moment later, Amanali appeared, dressed in a flowing red gown that clung to her figure, her hair crowned in a garland of flowers. With a sigh, she plopped herself down on the other end of their couch, then waved to a nearby servant, who was loitering with wine.


    “I take it there was some pushback about those who received a blessing?” Qing Dongmei asked her.


    “Nothing unexpected, it’s just a chaotic morning all around, Sister Meyla,” Amanali replied, accepting a cup of wine and taking a deep gulp from it, while the servant started to serve the rest of them. “Everyone has questions, wants to put things off—uggh, could that old villain not just leave already?”


    Her interrupted comment was for Daraxes, who had entered the hall with his two servants, an Ur Lord, three beautiful young Ur women in sheer gowns and a lot of soul-gold jewellery. The Ur Lord stopped and bowed to the Master and Asherida, gave Lissaea and Erishkira a lingering look, then ushered the Master from Udrasa to a couch on the left side, near the dais, where two lords from Maroz’s group broke away and started to converse with one of the silver-masked servants.


    It took some mental discipline to just let their presence pass by unremarked , given what had happened the night before. He had every faith in the capabilities of the needle, but he had no idea what, exactly, Lissaea had done afterwards, so he could only trust she had the matter in hand.


    “That is Lord Azgaesh,” Nisa informed him quietly. “He is new money, raised by Master Kazdrad’s predecessor to a noble seat, mostly because he is very rich. He isn’t someone you want to get involved with.”


    “Mmmm…” he took a sip of the wine and nodded gratefully for her explanation.


    While it could be tempting to zone out of an event like this—which could, indeed, be superficially boring and performative—in truth, every action, expression, movement or lack thereof, all of it meant something.


    “The three behind him are his daughters,” she added, shaking her head, clearly not impressed by the group. “If one of them propositions you, don’t accept. They are all sly, ambitious bitches, and, despite what they might say with honeyed words, fully supportive of their father’s endeavours...”


    “—and more than willing to do what they think they must?” Qing Dongmei suggested, taking a sip of her own wine.


    “Indeed,” Nisa agreed, drolly.


    “Ambition, money, and insecurity are a potent mix,” he agreed.


    “Especially when it crosses with other gems like ‘they are not like us’,” Amanali added. “There is a lot of chafing, if you could put it that way, about the stratified nature of power.”


    “—On the other hand,” Garesh interjected. “Historically, that is because when people break open that pot of worms it never quite seems to end up working right. My father still curses the Lord of Umazra, despite that city being ruined and carved up between four others, going on… six centuries now?”


    “Around that,” Amanali agreed. “Not to mention, the last Master lost his position of power over that matter, and then others that came after, though those who are themselves dissatisfied with that outcome have had it in for Lord Kazdrad, ever since, even though he had nothing to do with those events.”


    “Rulers need to Rule,” Nisa opined. “Not exploit or abuse.”


    “The quandary, of course, is where is the division between such things,” Amanali sighed. “Azgaesh and his ilk would surely say that his Rule would bring in a new era of glorious prosperity for our city and those powers under it. That having come from the people—”


    “Ha,” Nisa snickered. “His family has always been rich, and got rich off war and suffering. They seized lands left barren and fortified it with slave labour, killing thousands upon tens of thousands to reclaim it. They desire the power the status of ‘Lord’ confers, but shirk the responsibilities that come with it.


    “It has always been the struggle that sits at the heart of communities that are custodians of great power,” he remarked, diplomatically.


    “Some things do not change,” Qing Dongmei mused, shooting him a subtle sideways look.


    You could certainly see the same conflict playing out in any number of cities and influences, from greatest and grandest to the smallest and most menial, on every continent of Eastern Azure. Such events were a cycle, his teacher had once remarked, a little glumly, he thought, as if rather tired of the whole issue, if in a rather understanding way, because the alternatives were… well, terrifying.


    “Ego and Greed,” Amanali added. “That was what ruined the old era, combined with an insatiable desire for control.”


    “—Lord Master! Lady Asherida! Lady Lissaea!”


    The booming voice of the announcer from the previous day cut through all the chatter in the hall. At the dais, he saw that a woman with a striking resemblance to Amanali, clad in a multi-hued, figure-hugging silk gown, her dark hair framed by a winged crown of gold, had joined Lissaea and Erishkira.


    “—Lords of Council, Ladies of Merit and all august persons who stand with us, on this great day!” the announcer continued grandly, as several musicians—a piper, three drummers and a flutist—stepped up beside him, “I pray you all, please direct your attention, for in this august hour, accompanied by the pride of our glorious youth, a Great Heroine of our triumphant era comes before us! Wise of Council! Righteous of Deed! She has stood at the forefront of our people, as a bright blade against oppression and maleficence since time immemorial! I give you… SIGURDRIFA! GREAT LADY OF RADIANT VICTORY!


    As he finished speaking, the drummers struck up a steady beat. The last few stragglers were hurrying into the hall, while most of those looking on who were not on the dais or already standing also started to get to their feet.


    “As you can see, it will be rather performative,” Amanali observed drily to him, also standing up.


    Following the others, he also stood, as did Qing Dongmei.


    The rat-a-tat-tat of the drums continued for a good ten seconds, then melded into the siren call of the pipes. A moment later, the lead piper, followed by the banner bearers, walked slowly into the hall. Sigurdrifa herself came after them, her steps measured to perfectly match the beat, with Althildr, leading the other youths, a few paces behind her in turn.


    “And with her! Most celebrated and heroic! Daughter of Starhildr and Maerdath, Granddaughter of Starkadr the Great! Althildr, Skarnslayer—no, Orcnéas slayer!” the announcer continued as the music continued to swell, pulling the ambience of the room around them with it.


    “Orcnéas slayer?” Nisa murmured to Amanali and Garesh, sceptically.


    “I am sure we will find out,” Garesh replied with a resigned sigh.


    Glancing around the hall, he could see a few others… older lords and ladies, mostly, with more martial traces to their inner energies… also raising some eyebrows at that introduction.


    Such was the announcement that he almost missed Sigurdrifa’s gaze lingering in not quite hidden surprise, on Lissaea, who was herself looking on with a faintly amused expression as the procession approached the dais.


    “Who, with trusty companions, hath given new hope to our current generation!” the herald declared.


    “Her ‘trusty companions’ don’t look especially impressed to be relegated to such status either,” Qing Dongmei observed to him drily.


    Indeed, Jaroz and Marinthe had the neutral, mask-like smiles he knew all too well from back home, of talented experts pushed into what they saw as a menial role in the order of proceedings.


    “Most illustrious!” the announcer continued, gesturing grandly to Jaroz, now. “Jaroz Trullcleaver, Prince of Katum, whose stalwart deeds with his famous axe are known far and wide! Now granted the name Eye-striker, for he smote to ruin the banners of the Six-eyed demoness! And beside him, Beautiful Marinthe, of the Blazing Heart, and Baresh, Vanquisher of the dreadful beast ?stux’ubspusbu!”


    “—Ah, so that is who he is,” Garesh remarked. “?stux’ubspusbu was a ‘Fell Abomination’, one of several that has troubled the riverland margins that are the border with Katum for the last few years. I had heard it was killed several months ago, during some trial or testing the Consuls of Katum proclaimed.”


    “Now, also renowned as the slayer of the six disciples of Kirgoz, Master of the Bloody Serpent,” the announcer proclaimed, while Garesh was explaining to them.


    “—And last, though by no means least! Two of our own, returned to us as young heroes of our generation, their deeds in war praised by Great Lady Grimvak and Starkadr the Great, Arrok, now granted the title ‘Banner Breaker’, and Erisul, ‘Star Striker’!”


    At the mention of the two from Uldara, the nobles from Maroz’s faction, in particular, perked up a bit, a few even clapping, as Arrok and Erisul allowed themselves to smile.


    As the announcer finally fell silent, Sigurdrifa and the banner bearers, who had stopped in the open area before the dais, now stepped forward.


    “I greet thee, Lord Master Kazdrad, Lady Asherida, Lady Lissaea, Sorceress Erishkira, Priestess, Masters and assembled Lords and Ladies of Uldara and beyond,” Sigurdrifa declared, bowing respectfully. “I thank thee, for this warm welcome into your halls. Too long has it been, I last visited. I extend you greetings, on behalf of my hall, my sworn sisters, and our Lady.”


    “I bid thee welcome,” Master Kazdrad replied, waving forward a servant, who carried a bowl of water and some food in the form of a sweet cake on what he would have thought was a rather simple terracotta platter, had he not seen the identical ones on Meuanna’s table.


    Sigurdrifa took the bowl and drank lightly from it, then passed it to Althildr, before eating one of the sweet cakes. The actual hospitality ritual Erishkira had told them about previously, which he had, up to now, not actually seen in action.


    Next, two more servants stepped forward, with a bowl of water and a cloth, and dipping the cloth in the water, Sigurdrifa ritually washed her hands. This ritual was performed in turn for each of the others, behind Sigurdrifa, while everyone else looked on in solemn silence. Only when it was complete, and the three servants had retreated to the side, did anyone speak once more, and it was Lissaea who opened her mouth.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    “It seems Grimvak has been busy,” she observed. “Slaying an Orcnéas? Killing the disciples of that old serpent breeding wretch? Debasing Asuraleth’s banners? Long has it been since such blows were struck. Each of you may enter the Hall of Memory, and lay an offering, that your meritorious achievements be acknowledged by our ancestors.”


    “The hall...”


    “—Such an opportunity…”


    “—It seems House Karaz’s star is going to rise…”


    “—congratulations, Lord Maroz…”


    Shocked and surprised murmurs ran through the hall, but he thought he caught a faint grimace from one or two lords and ladies as well, and others who looked somewhat amused. Sigurdrifa just nodded her head slightly, as if this was expected.


    “On the matter of an Orcnéas appearing, that is perturbing news; we should speak of it later,” Master Kazdrad added.


    “It is, there has been a great upheaval in the mountains,” Sigurdrifa replied. “The campaign was hard fought but, for the first time in millenniums, we have pushed back the Blood Eclipse, and the Serpents of Slaughter retreated from the field entirely under our onslaught, losing many of their famed primal banners in the process. The destruction of which Uldara’s forces should consider a peerless achievement, saluted by our Lady herself.”


    “Great deeds indeed,” Asherida mused.


    “Presumably this means a foothold has to be secured on a more permanent basis?” Master Kazdrad added.


    “There is hope that that will be possible, yes,” Sigurdrifa agreed.


    “Most courteous of you to come all this way to announce these achievements in person,” Lissaea observed.


    “…”


    “I… also wish to consult on a matter, on behalf of our Great Lady,” Sigurdrifa replied. “If Her Eminence is willing?”


    “You can enter the hall with the others. As to what troubles Grimvak so, I am sure we will have time to discuss that,” Lissaea replied blandly.


    “Of course,” Sigurdrifa murmured, bowing politely at Lissaea’s words.


    “Did Asuraerleth show up in person? Or was it just some of her ward thralls?” Erishkira asked.


    “I… did not witness her in person, but reports suggest she took part in the battle, and clashed with some form of Skarn that the wild tribes disturbed. Althildr…?”


    “My grandfather ran into her, briefly,” Althildr replied. “She fled, of course, rather than face him directly.”


    “Of course,” Lissaea agreed, a little drily he thought.


    “Was that when you encountered this Orcnéas?” Amanali’s mother asked.


    “…”


    “Yes,” Althildr replied, after a short pause. “I was simply lucky to land the blow that ended it.”


    “When it comes to such dark and dreadful entities, even luck is to be lauded,” Master Kazdrad declared. “For none die easily. I believe there has always been an award proffered, for their destruction?”


    “There has,” Lord Mur confirmed, from where he was standing off to the side. “I will see to it that it is given.”


    “I find myself interested in this Skarn,” Kazdrad added. “There have been other reports, of a wyrm, or some other old beast, that have reached us in these last days. One raided several villages in the Badlands, and even participated in a battle with this new warband that has popped up.”


    “I have heard of that, yes,” Sigurdrifa nodded. “I cannot say if it is the same one, but there was an account of a Drakania that clashed violently with Master Sharvasus’s Hydra near on the Waters as well.”


    “A Drakania?” Erishkira raised an eyebrow. “That would be a very different matter from an Earth-bound Skarn.”


    “…”


    Beside him, Qing Dongmei was doing her utmost not to look at him. The conflict they were discussing was certainly the one they had participated in, which meant that the ‘Earth Bound Skarn’ was certainly the dragon he had met within the barrier.


    “To clash with one of Sharvasus’s pet hydras is no mean feat,” Asherida remarked, her gaze drifting to Daraxes, who was sitting impassively while Azgaesh and another lord spoke quietly to him, keeping their mouths hidden.


    “There were also rumours of a pair of ‘Maker’s Dancers’ appearing,” Althildr added, glancing at Erishkira.


    “There are always rumours of Maker’s Dancers,” Asherida remarked drily. “Not to discount them, but they do not grow on trees. Perhaps it was one of the Cloud Daughters, grown bored of tormenting our people in these Riverlands.”


    “It would be the sort of thing they do,” Lissaea agreed.


    “That I am certainly curious of,” Sigurdrifa observed. “Our good time in returning to you was greatly helped by the vanishing of those mists these last days. However, even if it has saved us the effort of some sacrifices, changes in their behaviour rarely end well…”


    “On that point, it is possible one of them decided to take the form of a Drakania for some reason,” Erishkira added with a slight shrug. “Some have such abilities, and their relationship with Quazam is… complicated, as I am sure you are well aware. However, that is something else to discuss at our leisure, I think.”


    “Indeed,” Master Kazdrad agreed. “For the meantime, I would be most pleased if you and your charges would be our honoured companions this day, to witness the events laid on.”


    “It would be our honour,” Sigurdrifa replied.


    At a slight nod from Asherida, the announcer stepped forward again, and after a quick glance around the room, spoke once more.


    “Masters, Lords, Ladies and honoured assembled guests! The order of events for the day has been changed. The auction that was to be presented, will now be on the morrow, starting at the third hour of sun. Today, there will instead be martial games presented in honour of our valiant young heroes’ achievements, and a banquet, this evening. So it is decreed, and let the word go out to the city, that a holiday is announced on this day, and the Palace shall cover the wage of every working person accordingly, and an allotment of food and wine be distributed to every household in celebration of their return!”


    With a bow to those on the dais, the announcer retreated once more, and Master Kazdrad got to his feet.


    “The banners you have brought shall be displayed in the great courtyard, for all to see,” the master informed Sigurdrifa, who simply inclined her head in thanks. “Now, shall we retire to more private surrounds, so you may all refresh yourselves in earnest after your long journey?”


    “Your hospitality is, as always, without peer,” Sigurdrifa replied with a smile.


    “Let all fall silent, for the Lord and Lady Master!” the announcer declared, cutting across the slowly returning conversation that had begun to spread at the announcement of the changed itinerary for the day.


    The drummers started a slow, steady beat, with the pipers and flutists joining them a few bars later, as Kazdrad offered a hand to Sigurdrifa and escorted her, followed by Asherida, Lissaea, Erishkira, Lord Mur, Amanali’s mother and another woman, who he realised had to be a priestess of similar stature, who had been just out of his vision on the far side of the dais. The banner carriers stood off to the side as the various nobles started to applaud Althildr and the others as they followed after Sigurdrifa and the other senior experts.


    “It is customary,” Nisa murmured to him, also starting to clap, albeit without much energy. Following her example, he and Qing Dongmei clapped politely. Only when all of Sigurdrifa’s party had exited the hall did the music stop and the applause cease.


    “There will be refreshments laid on, for all!” the announcer declared grandly, as several groups of servants swept into the hall from the side doors, carrying platters of food and wine.


    “We don’t have to stick around for this bit,” Garesh informed them, as Kurra came over to rejoin them. She had left the guest quarters they had been given well before they departed for this meeting.


    “I had to go stand by my uncle,” she grumbled, nodding towards a middle-aged lord with a curly beard, oiled and groomed into a remarkably sharp rectangular style he had seen on several of the statues around the palace. “Are we sticking around?”


    “I was just telling Hunter Kang we don’t need to,” Garesh repeated drily.


    “Ah, Hunter Kang… Sorceress Meyla.”


    He turned to find one of Quaruna’s servants standing there.


    “Yes?” he asked.


    “As companion and disciple of Lady Erishkira, both of you are also invited to feast with the Master and Lady Lissaea,” the servant informed them respectfully, lowering her head.


    “It seems there is no escape for you, however,” Garesh added, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a sympathetic grin. “I shall drink an extra cup of wine on your behalf!”


    “…”


    “You are also asked to attend, Priestess Amanali,” the servant added politely, to Amanali, who sighed and nodded, getting to her feet.


    “Very well, let us catch up to them,” Amanali declared.


    Leaving Garesh, Nisa and Kurra, they followed the serving woman out of the hall.


    “This will likely be equally performative,” Amanali informed them drily, as they made their way down the corridor beyond. “Though probably less fractious and weird compared to the banquet at the auction yesterday.”


    “Probably, you say?” Qing Dongmei murmured.


    “Probably,” Amanali repeated, rolling her eyes.


    “Are there any formalities we should be aware of?” he asked quietly.


    “Ah… hmmm, you are also guests, and accompanying Lady Erishkira, who is herself an honoured guest so… just don’t be too extroverted,” Amanali replied after a moments silence. “Oh, Quaruna and Jaroz have a bit of… history. Well, it’s mostly imposed from his side, but you might want to watch out for that. Maroz and a few others are likely to be here as well, as eminent lords of the city.”


    “When you say ‘history’?” Qing Dongmei asked, giving him a sideways look as they turned onto a colonnaded walkway that ran around the edge of a paved courtyard not dissimilar to the one that had hosted the auction the previous day.


    -Oh of course, he sighed inwardly. “I shall keep that in mind,” he replied softly, noting the several armed guards standing at the various exits, all of whom seemed to have foundations beyond his, or means to conceal their strength. “—Thank you.”


    “Not at all,” Amanali replied breezily. “As to the history? Katum has long sought an alliance with us that goes beyond words and deed. Both the children of the previous master were married when he ascended to the seat. Kazdrad only has one child, however: Sister Quaruna.”


    “Ah, I see,” he nodded, able to fill in the gap pretty easily.


    “And she is ‘available’ in a sense?” Qing Dongmei mused. “At least as far as they are concerned?”


    “Only in their imaginations,” Amanali replied with a rueful shake of her head as they left the courtyard behind, passing through a guarded doorway and entered the hall beyond it, the far exit of which was guarded by a further pair of halberd-wielding Ur, who saluted them formally as soon as they entered.


    “But Jaroz is ambitious,” Amanali continued as they crossed the hall, “and they have sent him thrice to negotiate with us now, in the last few years. Given he has attained some renown under Sigurdrifa’s mentorship, I do not doubt he will try to make the most of it this time as well.”


    Before either of them could reply, however, they reached the guarded door. Passing beyond it, they were in another courtyard; however, this one held a lavish garden. Tables and couches had been arranged in the shelter of the lower colonnade, where Jaroz and the other ‘juniors’ as he supposed they should be considered were sitting, chatting quietly amongst themselves, as servants poured them wine and placed food. The envoy from earlier had also joined them, as had another youth who he didn’t recognise, and a girl of a similar age, who was chatting to Erisul. Both had physical resemblance to Ghrazir he couldn’t help but notice.


    Lissaea, most of the other ‘elders’, including Master Kazdrad and Asherida, meanwhile, were seated in the private shade of the gazebo-like construction at the heart of the garden.


    “That’s Zasrir, the other son of Maroz,” Amanali informed him quietly, confirming his suspicions there. “The girl talking to Erisul, Mazara, is also Maroz’s daughter—ah, we will go see my mother first,” Amanali added to the servant, as she started to lead them over towards the set table. “You can leave us.”


    “As you command,” the servant murmured, stopping then bowing to them and going over to join the others serving food and wine.


    Shaking her head, Amanali turned and led them into the garden, ignoring the two guards standing unobtrusively nearby, and over to her mother and the other senior priestess, who were standing next to one of the small ornamental lakes, along with a somewhat jaded-looking Quaruna.


    “Ah, Ama,” her mother called out, waving to her as they approached. “Hunter Kang and Sorceress Meyla, how wonderful that you could join us.”


    “You honour us,” he replied formally, bowing to them.


    “My, so formal,” Amanali’s mother chuckled, giving him an apprising look over. As she did so, he could feel a faint hint of pressure from her gaze, but it was gone almost as soon as he noticed it.


    -So, she is at least a Dao Sovereign as well? he judged, as the wards on his sea of knowledge chimed their verdict on the profundity of her intent.


    “I don’t believe we have been, formally at least, introduced—I am Amanura, Priestess of Ashinna,” Amanali’s mother continued. “And this is Ninkura, Priestess of The Reed Mother,” she added gesturing to her compatriot.


    “I am honoured to be in your presence,” he murmured, bowing to Ninkura.


    The other priestess accepted his bow with a faintly amused smile. Off to the side, Quaruna rolled her eyes.


    “In any case, I will have to rob you of Amanali for a little bit,” Amanura continued. “Kara, darling, could you go introduce our esteemed sorceress and hunter to the politicians over there, then we can continue our chat.”


    “Of course,” Quaruna murmured, bowing politely, he was a little surprised to see.


    Both of them proffered the priestesses a further bow, which they just seemed amused by, then fell in Quaruna as she gestured for them to follow her.


    “You are confused at how deferential I am?” Quaruna asked, giving them both an amused look.


    In truth he wasn’t, but that was only because he had been around gatherings like this a lot, and it paid to pay attention. However, he just nodded a little anyway.


    Quaruna rolled her eyes, seemingly not buying the deference in any case, but it wasn’t for her so that was fine.


    “It was smart to avoid going straight over to Jaroz and the others. Zasrir is a lot more capable than his idiot older brother—who you punched earlier. Getting involved in the succession politics of Lord Maroz’s bunch, not to mention Jaroz…”


    “Amanali did mention him, earlier,” he mused.


    “Katum has agendas. Jaroz is deeply involved in at least one of them and Katum isn’t like Uldara,” Quaruna replied, pensively as they reached the edge of the central, vine-covered gazebo.


    As far as warnings went, that was pretty veiled, but he was pretty sure he got the gist of what she meant without her having to say it out loud. Erishkira’s overview of that power had painted a scroll painting of a complex, sprawling confederation of powers united by military dominance and a monopoly on several important natural resources. Uldara had depth of power, it seemed, but the territory they controlled in comparison was lacking—the rivalry felt very much like that of a Ducal provincial power vying with a deep-rooted aeon-spanning local sect, in many ways.


    “Ahhh… daughter,” Master Kazdrad got to his feet as Quaruna stopped and bowed respectfully to her parents, then Lissaea, Sigurdrifa and Erishkira. Althildr just got a slight nod, which he found rather amusing.


    “You have of course met, already,” Kazdrad gestured to Quaruna with a broad smile, “But please allow me to introduce two other esteemed guests of our palace, Sorceress Meyla, who is Lady Erishkira’s apprentice, and Great Hunter Kang, who has also been travelling with them.”


    “I am honoured to be in your presence,” he replied, his words echoed by Qing Dongmei as they both bowed formally to the group.


    “Your apprentice?” Sigurdrifa raised an eyebrow, glancing at Erishkira, then giving Qing Dongmei a considering look, which Althildr mirrored.


    “Mmmm, she came very highly recommended,” Erishkira replied, sipping her wine.


    “—And a Great Hunter,” Althildr mused, transferring her gaze to him, sounding… not exactly sceptical, he noted, but certainly curious.


    “I had wondered at that rumour, but now that I lay eyes on you up close, I begin to understand,” Sigurdrifa chuckled.


    The way her gaze lingered on him made the hairs on his neck prickle, but he had to have faith that between the talisman and his teacher’s safeguards she couldn’t see too much of his foundation.


    “Most of those we encountered in the foothills were weak, disorganized or lacking character,” Sigurdrifa said, turning back to Kazdrad. “Those who do not recall the methods and the peculiar madness of those other powers of the Eastern Ocean would certainly think them weak, but there are strong powers among them. We clashed briefly with one that had multiple ninth-advancement combatants with lifespans you could only attain from a higher world. Their means are interestingly… derivative as well.”


    Beside him, Qing Dongmei was doing her best impression of listening with considered interest, and no more, because the conversation they had walked in on was clearly about those who had come in, with the trial.


    “How so?” Kazdrad asked, leaning forward.


    “The groups we saw were divided into two… well, three, I guess.” Sigurdrifa mused. “First, there were small groups of irregular combatants, dozens strong in some cases, with deep pockets—the ‘crazy mages’ that have been rampaging about in the Badlands, and it seems, further afield. They seem to be mostly between the fourth and seventh advancement, though a group with an eighth advancement old man trying to hide himself did run into one of our screening forces. Alas, he fled. Then there are larger groups.


    “We observed two, at a distance. They have real organisation, and serious firepower. The smaller was at least two thousand strong, and had not just combatants but civilians in numbers as well, almost as if they were an entire tribe on migration.


    “And the larger?” Lord Mur asked, frowning.


    “Our scouts didn’t get a clear number; two were captured, the rest fled, their best guess was that they numbered about eight thousand, all told. They had little trouble sacking a border fortress.”


    “Eight thousand… led by ninth-advancement experts,” Kazdrad grimaced. “That is comparable to a medium-sized town.”


    “The good news there, is that they do appear to be cohesive communities, so while their numbers are big, the number of skilled combatants is probably only one or two thousand,” Sigurdrifa mused. “But almost all of those would be sixth or seventh advancement. Interestingly, it appears that a lot of them have suffered severe stagnation in their strength, although Reginlief and Tamuz have both speculated that may change quickly.”


    “Oh?” Asherida asked.


    “There have been large numbers of disruptions in the ascension matrix, in the last three weeks,” Sigurdrifa replied.


    “This has also been observed here,” Lord Mur remarked. “Culminating in the flood that has caused so much upheaval…”


    “Yes,” Sigurdrifa nodded. “At first, we feared it was some trick or ploy of the Six Eyes confederation or the Blood Cults, given how it seemed to be focused on the region around Krista Tonnitrue, but as we travelled back, more and more reports have made their way to us. Almost all the perpetrators are these newly emergent groups, and most of them appear to be outworlders.”


    “So, it is possible that this is an invasion?” Kazdrad sighed.


    “Possibly, but most of these larger groups appear more like refugees, or occupants of another shard-land that has merged with ours,” Sigurdrifa mused. “Such events have occurred before, though nothing on such a scale since the years of The Tumult.”


    “And what of this third group?” Erishkira asked, refilling her cup with wine.


    “Ah, yes,” it was Sigurdrifa’s turn to sigh now. “We have not set eyes on them directly, but they appeared mostly in the Shada river-march, towards the old ruins of Menacarnus. It seems they clashed with the Grass Scorpions—causing the phenomena of the red dawn.”


    “So that is what that was,” Asherida nodded now. “Though Menacarnus… that isn’t an auspicious place for them to appear. Was it because of the old gate there, I wonder?”


    “I would assume so,” Sigurdrifa replied. “It seems they were pushed back, but even though they clashed with the Grass Scorpions, it seems they were not fully routed—and I have a trustworthy report that they clashed with Hundred Ghosts and the Old Scorpion directly.”


    “That… is concerning,” Kazdrad mused, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. “You think this force has fallen into the grip of the restless spirits there and the former Hero of the Arena?”


    “That would be a disaster, if so,” Sigurdrifa sighed. “A new faction, akin to the Deathless Veil, but with the foundations of a bunch of Heaven’s Path experts is the last thing we need. I have to assume that is why the Grass Scorpions were so quick to strike—though again, it could just be bad luck converging.”


    “And what of the rumours that they are of the ‘human-kind’?” Asherida asked, leaning forward.


    “If we are speaking… in terms of their race, they are not,” Sigurdrifa shook her head. “But that is because they are of the Heaven’s Path, though it seems you knew as much already,” she added, giving Lord Mur a knowing look.


    “Those we have here are such, yes,” Lord Mur agreed drily. “Though with an eye to history, that doesn’t necessarily mean they are any less dangerous. I may not have personally experienced life in that corner of the northern continent, as you did, Lady Sigurdrifa, but my family has passed down the tales…”


    “And traditionally, the main danger of the Human-kind was in their mad bastard of a God,” Lissaea interjected. “It is simply that the totality of that faith’s cultish, exclusionary and oppressive influence in the later years was so great that the two became entirely synonymous in the eyes and memories of those who had to endure them. Otherwise, the ‘Barbarians’, as they were once termed—the Hibric, Drassic and the Sar, even some of the Inan—for example—would also be considered as such, and all three still remain in these lands.”


    “True,” Sigurdrifa conceded. “On that line, though, I am prompted to ask what you think of this—”


    His heart sank, as she produced a familiar white mask, cracked in this instance, by what looked like a blow from an axe or similar weapon, and marked with the Imperial Common glyph for ‘Ancient’.


    “…”


    All of the others at the table stared at the mask, until eventually Erishkira picked it up and turned it over in her hands.


    “It could just be a coincidence?” Lord Mur asked, eyeing the mask. “It’s not exactly an… uncommon design?”


    Rather than say anything, Sigurdrifa produced a strip of a sleeve, from a Jade Gate Court inner disciple’s robe, that showed their signature hem design.


    -Well, that vindicates my paranoia in trying to get ahead of events, he thought glumly.


    “I should remind you about the last incursion,” Lissaea remarked, pensively. “You know, the one that caught everyone by surprise and that Udrasa seemed to know about well before anyone else?”


    Sigurdrifa grimaced.


    “And Udrasa’s current circumstances…” Erishkira added, scowling.


    “They are still an ally in our fight against the Blood Cults, Lady Lissaea,” Althildr remarked.


    “Mmmm, that is Grimvak’s position, certainly,” Lissaea mused, picking up the sleeve. “Though Udrasa has a great deal of culpability in every event in recent weeks to stymy ours and others’ actions in reacting to this incursion. They have moved on the resurgent Golden Peony phenomena, tried to subvert the tribulation that occurred over the riverlands last week, leading to this flood that has so inconvenienced everyone… and yet also gotten the Mist Daughters to abandon their harassment, and in doing so allowed them to act much more freely.


    “I should also tell you that the association of this design with that group predates the establishment of the new church. It was in use when the Eternal City was establishing their provinces in these lands. Heck, its origins are so old even I cannot be certain of whence they came from. The blood trefoil probably goes back to the time of the Uru’Khal and the First Defilement.”


    “Yet, they became a symbol of Longevity and their successors, who have caused nothing but grief and mayhem ever since, in the name of their agenda,” Sigurdrifa pointed out.


    “So, what is Grimvak’s position in it, then?” Erishkira asked. “That they should be—pardon the pun—torn up, root and branch? If this is a branch that has come from outside, they may have higher strength behind them. Has there been any evidence of the Shaper Cult in their actions?”


    “Currently, her priorities lie… elsewhere,” Sigurdrifa replied, a little evasively, he thought. “And if that mask can be the first reason I came here—to seek answers in the Halls of Memory, then that matter is the second, but it should not be discussed here.”


    “I see,” Master Kazdrad nodded. “Well, we will do our utmost to facilitate you in your search for answers. Of that, you have my word.”


    Sigurdrifa proffered him a polite salute of thanks.


    “On that point, I would tell you that at least two higher powers of the Heaven’s Path have shown up in traces so far. Neither will take kindly to the idea that they are associated with the Shaper Cult,” Lissaea added.


    “Ohh?” Sigurdrifa frowned. “You know which ones?”


    “Xiwangmu and Hundred Flowers Mountain,” Lissaea replied, not listing the Shu clan, to his surprise, though he supposed she might doubt how high they reached. Of the two listed, he had never heard of the Hundred Flowers Mountain, either. Xiwangmu, he was pretty sure was the Western Cardinal Court, though.


    “Ah.”


    Sigurdrifa sat back, her expression turning solemn.


    “Yes. Ah, indeed,” Lissaea agreed. “Neither of the guardians of those great heights are the slightest bit affable if offended, and will happily cut everyone else’s noses off, to make sure they got the message.”


    “What sort of power do they have, backing them?” Althildr asked, looking thoroughly confused.


    “Divine Power,” Lissaea said simply. “Comparable to the hegemonies before the collapse. And a sight less affable to boot.”


    “Less?” Althildr muttered, disbelieving. “Than the Thrones of the Tyrants and Arch-Hierophants?”


    “Says the girl who knows both only through stories of her grandfather,” Lissaea chuckled, making Althildr flush a little. “No, I do understand your disbelief. By that era, they had stepped aside, in favour of the influences who did retain a controlling stake in that era’s affairs. Content to keep their compacts from a distance. That said, the roots of those powers of the Celestial Axial go right back to the time of Mo’Kratha and Uru’Suen, and among them can be counted True Masters, and the Grand Court of the Sky Emperor was respected even in those Ancient Days, ranked as it was alongside the gatherings of the Honoured Five and the Sunless Sovereigns.


    “Not to mention the Breaker and the Maker both had a notable influence on the foundations of the Celestial Axial,” Erishkira added. “Though, as I understand it, the names with which they are revered are not the same?”


    “They are not,” Lissaea agreed. “But the pertinent point is that, while they are pre-eminently unaffable if you get across them, they are not dogmatically so, which is a major distinction between them and the ‘Tyrants and Hierophants’ Althildr mentioned.


    “In terms of why your grandfather didn’t speak of them, he rarely, if ever, went into the Eastern Heavens. If any of them came to us, it was to places like Moon Dream Pagoda, or Mount Wang—or the Ten Songs. The powers of the continents offered them nothing they could not already get elsewhere.”


    “And while I know what you are going to say”—Lissaea held up a hand, as Sigurdrifa, frowning now, opened her mouth—“Grimvak has her view, and it is a long one, coloured by the life she has lived, and that is fine. I also have a view, however, and it is that having helped burn down the house to spite the builder, it isn’t wise to then go after the people who happened to be walking by.”


    “Mount Moon Dream and Mount Wang were very much ‘inside the building’, if we are keeping with that analogy,” Sigurdrifa retorted.


    “I would also point out that not only had the owner changed, by that point—”


    “Debatable,” Sigurdrifa muttered.


    “—But that the act of burning down the building, with everyone left inside, did more to benefit the old owners who skipped on the previous lease than any act since those same thieves of fate and fortune worked out how to make heroes for hire,” Asherida added, a little archly.


    “…”


    “And if you are going to argue about their influence, I would remind you that there have been plenty on ‘our’ side who found their thinking very influential as well. Something to consider when you walk around the Halls of Memory, looking for answers.”


    He couldn’t help but notice that Kazdrad looked… not exactly uneasy, at what his wife was saying, but certainly his expression was carefully mask-like. Althildr looked mildly shocked, though, so he had to assume the opinion Asherida was voicing wasn’t that widely held, or perhaps voiced often in public, given how Lissaea and Erishkira had spoken earlier.


    “I would also add,” Asherida continued, a bit more emotion creeping into her tone, “that irrespective of any sophistry about what might have occurred afterwards, we ended up here. Along with this place. I cannot imagine that what remained after was especially hospitable. I was in Evergrove Vale, the hours after the collapse. Even that glimpse, from afar, of the world they sought to remake was…”


    “—Grim,” Erishkira murmured, as Asherida trailed off.


    “I appreciate that our… experiences of those days were quite different,” Sigurdrifa replied, after the silence between them all had stretched for several awkward seconds longer than was comfortable, her gaze sliding to Erishkira.


    “Don’t look at me, I was running for my life through the forest below Saint Roberta’s, trying to dodge pieces of falling battleship and avoid one of their groups of ‘heroes for hire’, as they were so aptly called,” Erishkira added. “We were lucky to get to the refuge of the old stones before reality went”—she made a hand-waving motion—“and manifested colours nature did not intend to exist in a visible spectrum.”


    “Oh, are we reminiscing about the old days?” Ninkura, who had walked back over to join them, asked with a bright smile that never reached her eyes.


    “…”


    Asherida’s expression turned a bit awkward and Erishkira actually grimaced apologetically. Sigurdrifa gave Ninkura a smile that was actually embarrassed and guilty in equal measure. Nobody said anything, though Althildr looked like she wanted to ask, at least until Ninkura’s gaze slid sideways to her and she flinched, and then Sigurdrifa gave her a sideways look that made the young woman flush.


    “That’s what I figured,” Ninkura murmured.


    “—An interesting mask, as well,” Amanura, who he realised was right beside her, along with Amanali, added.


    “Ah, sorry, I meant to come back over, Aunty,” Quaruna muttered, also flushing a little.


    “Yes, as always, discussion that relates to them tends to lead to places where ill memories dwell,” Kazdrad remarked, diplomatically.


    “Indeed,” Sigurdrifa agreed, as Erishkira and Asherida both nodded.


    The whole thing was such a weird moment, that it began to tug at his ‘junior just saw something he should not have’ instinct, but thankfully none of those there seemed particularly focused on either him or Dongmei—


    “Glory is an addiction, that turns even the strongest hearts greedy,” Ninkura added, sitting down and claiming a leg of roasted waterfowl from the table between them all. “So rather than dwell on the ghosts of years gilded only in our memories, I prefer to salute the achievements of today, of which this roast waterbird is clearly a superlative one. We are tomorrow’s folk. We have always been such, despite what others would push onto us. Do not be those men—or women.”


    “And speaking of the food, I, for one, am also hungry,” Amanura declared, sitting down as well, and gesturing for him, Qing Dongmei, Quaruna and her daughter to do so as well. “It isn’t good dining ambience to have people hovering at the table.”


    “No, it is not,” Lissaea agreed drily, claiming a vegetable-stuffed pastry roll for herself.


    “Turning the conversation back to something less contentious,” Asherida murmured, once they were all seated and had started to tuck into the food, “You have recently travelled through some of the lands, affected by these recent upheavals, have you not, Hunter Kang?” she asked, turning to him. “What is your impression of our troublesome invaders.”


    “My impression?” he replied, sighing inwardly. He had expected to be sounded out at some point, but immediately? He supposed she wanted to redirect the topic of conversation away from what was clearly a touchy topic. “I have had various… encounters, with some of these groups on the way here,” he answered, picking his words carefully, because lying or obfuscating in this company was a total non-starter. Nor, probably, was using shatterpoint, now that he knew it had links to the peoples of this place. “I would say most fit the first criteria that Lady Sigurdrifa spoke of? Bands of ten, maybe twenty… but at least one that was close to a hundred strong. The impression I got, was that they were as much in conflict with each other, as with this harsh landscape. Certainly, they seem to have factions, tribes, war bands, clans, however you want to call it, and tragically, many towns and settlements seem to have paid a price for being caught up in these events. However, not all seem unreasonable.”


    “I see,” Master Kazdrad mused. “And what of those who wear masks like these?”


    “There may have been a few?” he replied. “There were, I believe, in a large group that clashed with tribes at the edge of the riverlands? There may have been one with a mask… and?”


    “—there was certainly a group, wearing clothing like that,” Qing Dongmei gestured to the sleeve, picking up the thread of his answer. “Their actions came across as those quite content to backstab those around them if it suited their goals. Certainly, they seemed more engaged in that than the forces besieging them, that we witnessed.”


    “So, there are at least two bands, unless some from the one whence this mask came escaped?” Asherida asked.


    “None escaped,” Sigurdrifa stated. “So, yes, it does appear that way. When was this encounter you had with them, Hunter Kang?”


    “A week prior,” he replied.


    “Near Udrasa at the Plains,” Erishkira added. “In fact, I believe a few slaves taken in that conflict have made their way here—the golden peony bunch. Might it be wise to… ensure they are not kept as slaves, but brought under the control of the palace?”


    “Mmmmm, yes,” Ninkura agreed. “I assume that we have not heard of this already, because they are owned by those under Maroz’s faction?”


    “That was my impression, from observing yesterday’s proceedings,” Erishkira agreed with a faint smile, her gaze flitting past him for a moment.


    Following where she was looking, he saw that Maroz and several other lords and ladies had just walked into the garden and were making their way over towards them.