Running a proper business in Ralth isn’t for the faint of heart.

  The common street vendors don’t understand the political aspect of such an endeavor. To even begin you need investors, which usually means nobles; or, in Goruk’s case, the Jade Sol.Over four decades Goruk has been serving the rich and powerful, sinking his teeth into their pockets and taking that wealth for himself.Sure he often has to bow his head and accommodate the needs of spoiled scions and pompous fools, but that’s the price for success.

  “Master Goruk,” a servant says.

  Goruk turns from his fish to face the girl, Tinia he thinks her name was? a recent acquisition, and Goruk takes altogether too long to memorize names, especially in his old age.

  “What is it?” He asks, a little annoyed at having his work interrupted.

  The servant girl bows deep, as she should, and continues, “there is a cultivator at one of the tables who wishes to speak with you.”

  Goruk sighs, “another complaint?”

  “No master, they claim to know you, and wish for conversation.”

  Goruk rubs his chin, “I can’t well delay my work, tell them to come to the kitchen if they wish to speak.”

  The servant bows again, “Of course master.”

  He turns back to his fish,

  Bass is common in the ports of Ralth, but a proper beast? Only the deep sea creatures, where the oceans foci are rumored to reside, have mutations. They are expensive but they’re also guaranteed profit for a restaurant, the rich trampling over each other to get a taste of delicacy, even if it doesn’t taste all that good. He squeezes a lemon over the fish as he cooks, to add some zest. The customer didn’t want any spices, but lemon isn’t technically a spice, and it’ll turn the meal from something bland to possibly enjoyable. He luxurates in the sound of people cooking and shouting as his many chefs scramble to fulfill orders.

  Organized chaos, just as he likes it.

  “Goruk,” says a hoarse voice from behind him, “truly it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Goruk raises a hand, “one second immortal, I’m in a very delicate process right now, and can’t afford distractions”

  He hears a chuckle of amusement.

  Good, a cultivator with humor, he doesn’t recognize the voice but he wouldn’t mind making new connections. Cultivators always bring in the best beast meat after all.

  Eventually, once he’s finished cooking the fish, he turns.

  What greets his eyes is a girl that barely reaches five and a half feet in height with short black hair and dull brown eyes. She wears robes of deep purple with a green trim and sash, with something like a bone bead bracelet on her right wrist. Her left arm is practically exclusively scar tissue, along with a gigantic line of purple across her neck, she’s giving an expression of placid amusement, one he’s seen often on this face.

  “Miss Sol?” he chokes out.

  She smiles, “the one and only honou-”

  He interrupts her with a crushing hug, or at least he tries to make it crushing.

  “Where have you been, girl, it’s been years!”

  “A little space would be nice,” she muffles into his chest.

  Goruk lets out a boisterous laugh as he backs away, “Oh sweet nectar of the Gods, what happened to you, why are you wearing cultivators robes, and-”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  He stops as Tantra raises a hand, “We have plenty of time to chat, but first I wish to ask a favor of you.”

  -

  Tantra steps up to the door, friends behind her and a nervous Goruk beside her. Two years it’s been, but the halls are just as she remembered them, pure white walls with red rugs of intricate designs adorning the floors, golden lampstands illuminating the halls with blue flame. Tantra remembers the layout of the mansion, despite the years, and she deliberately took the route with the smallest chance of running into her family. She’s certain servants have scrambled to inform her siblings, but she doesn’t much care, she has to talk to one before she considers the rest.

  She can hear the scribbling of a quill on the other side of the door.

  She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

  “Come in,” says a familiar voice from inside the room.

  Tantra opens the door and steps inside.

  She takes in the sight of her brother.

  Dozen is a lanky man of skeletal features, this is because he often forgets to eat when working. Out of all her siblings, he is the one with the most discipline, putting the business before anything and everything. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, uncharacteristic for him, he usually liked to keep it short. There are deep bags under his eyes.

  He doesn’t look up at her.

  “If you interrupted my work just to stare at me in silence I will have you clean the floors of the entire mansion.”

  Tantra chuckles, “well hello to you too brother.”

  Dozen grumbles as he looks up at her. He squints, rubs at his eyes, then squints again.

  “Great,” he says blandly, “I’m hallucinating”

  Tantra raises a brow, “why would you think that?”

  “Because you,” he points at her, “are supposed to be in the sect, not here.”

  “Well I’m sorry to disappoint,”

  He grumbles at her, “well come on then, if you're real then come prove it.”

  Tantra smiles wide then skips over to Dozen’s side, giving him a grand hug.

  “Okay,” he chokes, “you’re real, you’re real, let go.”

  Tantra chuckles as she lets him go.

  “You got strong,” he comments, “that’s going to be a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh please, you love me.”

  He just grunts, “so as much as I want to jump for joy, I’m too tired. How did you get here, and what’s with the scars?”

  “Long story, got into a few fights, survived a few fights. The travel here was a bit of a pain but we managed.”

  Dozen looks her up and down, “are you in purification?”

  Tantra laughs, “no silly, that takes years! I just used my head when travelling.”

  -

  Tantra lets out a satisfied sigh as she enters the scalding waters, feeling particular satisfaction where the many scars adorn her body. The servant girl Dozen got her can barely conceal her disgust, which for Tantra means she may as well be shouting through the rooftops. It…hurts, she’ll certainly never manage to look like a proper lady, not with all the deep purples and reds across her body. It is disgusting, she knows, but she can’t exactly get rid of them, only hope that as time passes they become less prominent.

  “You can go,” Tantra waves to the servant girl.

  “But mistres-”

  “I was not asking.”

  The servant clamps her mouth shut, bows, then leaves the bathing area, leaving just her and Etra in the waters.

  “Why did you lie?” Etra asks immediately, “Do you think he was the bastard who did it?”

  Tantra sinks deeper into the waters, “no, Dozen’s too busy to comb through city records, and he’s the heir, he has no motive to have me killed. Besides, the only thing he loves more than work is family.”

  “So why then?”

  Tantra leans back and rests her head at the edge of the pool, “So that the next assassins they send are mortal.”

  “You think they’ll send more?”

  Tantra shrugs, “they’ll have to, it won’t be hard to find who did it, cultivators only work on contracts, and they probably didn’t expect us to survive to comb through their tracks. So in the next week or so it’s likely we’ll either get a bribe or a blade. Who knows, might even try to hire one of you.”

  “You said we were safe here,” she hisses.

  “You are,” Tantra replies, “if they send assassins in the mansion, then they’re a level of stupid I can’t comprehend. No, so long as you stay here you won’t need to worry.”

  “That isn’t exactly reassuring.”

  Tantra shrugs, “just enjoy the high life and train while I deal with them.”

  Etra grumbles a few curses that Tantra ignores.

  She’s busy looking at the shadow behind the door.

  She smiles something devious as it moves away with the lull in conversation.