There were not enough hours in the day. It used to be that such a sentiment was reserved for particularly robust gaming sessions, but I had since come to learn that time tended to vanish beneath the weight of passion, obsession, or both. With every tweak, adjustment, and addition to my routine, the time I’d already stretched paper-thin grew increasingly inadequate. Before I knew it, I had been with The Slayers for close to six months.

  The time I’d set aside to relax and have fun with Fudge became especially important. Even so, being able to justify the leisure as a type of training all its own was about the only thing keeping me from entertaining the idea of utilizing the precious hours for something else. I hated that. In trying to carve out every spare second from my day, I suspected I’d started venturing into the realms of absurdity. I’d taken to running to my various appointments or filling otherwise benign chores with memorization exercises. The more I pushed myself, the more I could keep the pressure on Perseverance.

  There was not much that got me to deviate from my routine, but a small gathering of people in Dorbe’s town square had been enough to rouse my curiosity. I was on my way to Isa’s. I made an effort to drop in for a drink once a week or so; fielding nonsense from her grandson for half an hour was a small price to pay for a good meal and the preservation of a helpful relationship. There was a permanent stage, of sorts, in the town square, a place for performances or announcements or other things that might benefit from a stage.

  I was not usually privy to them, but the few times I had seen the snippets of a person armed with an instrument playing for the masses, their reception had always been positive. It was why the sounds of rather inspired heckles grabbed my attention.

  “You and yours are not welcome here!”

  “Get out of town already!”

  “Come on, people, they will not start until we are quiet and they will not go until they are done.”

  “It is abhorrent is what it is!”

  A gathering of men and women wearing loose fitting robes had taken to the stage. They were joined by an escort of armed guards - similarly robed - and town guards, the latter of which seemed more focussed on keeping the crowd from doing anything reckless. I actually recognized a few familiar faces from the training yards at the barracks.

  What in the world… I whistled for Fudge to stay close as I approached.

  “EVERYONE BE SILENT,” a voice boomed. One of the guardsmen bellowed the command and it resonated with such force that I suspected a Skill was involved. Even the various businesses and stalls lining the square grew uncomfortably quiet as everyone gathered was startled into obedience. “Today we have guests. Please listen to what they have to say.” His voice was stiff. Robotic, even.

  One of the robed figures, a woman, stepped forward. When she spoke, she too projected her voice with a power and confidence that bordered on the supernatural.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice serene and pleasant to the ear. She and the other robed individuals all reached up to pull down their hoods, revealing shaved heads and further emphasizing the uniformity they shared. They wore soft, sympathetic smiles one and all as they looked down on the people present. “Many of you here seem angry. Distraught. There is chaos in your life.” She let the sentiment hang for a long moment.

  “Have you ever felt that life was unfair? That the pressures of society were set against you? They are, and it is not your fault. There is an alternative, though. A life where your Skills do not matter, where everyone cooperates and gets along, where you get to be a part of something amazing, something greater than every single person-”

  “Bullshit!” A young man called out. One of the town guards near the stage rushed into the crowd. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I heard a quick scuffle that ended just as quickly as it began. The woman who was speaking remained a visage of tranquility throughout, as if the interruption did not bother her at all.

  “You see? Chaos. A world where the loud and confident try to silence those who just want peace. If you want a fresh start, a way to get away from it all, then we can help you. We will guide you to The One. All you have to do is ask. We will be waiting outside the town for one day. You are welcome to come and speak with us further before you make any decisions.” Her gaze panned over the audience. A quick pulse of mana strengthened my own vision, enabling me to see the pure sincerity in her eyes; if she wasn't lying, then she believed every one of her own words.

  All of the robed figures bowed their heads before speaking in unison.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  Just like that, it was over. Barely a minute or two of preaching before the cult - for I was confident that it was it was - departed with their escorts. Free from the seemingly reluctant oppression of the town guard, the gathered throng resumed hurling insults or sharing concerned mutterings.

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  “You should go with them,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

  “Alternatively, you should go. You seem to hate most things; sounds like you are their target audience.” I turned around to see Cruz frowning, which was basically his default expression. He was wrapped in his usual greys, a stain from the previous night’s meal on the hem of his cloak.

  “If I am ever in the mood to start a war I might do just that.”

  “Rare I see you on- actually, rare I see you, end of story. I assume the strangely tolerated cultists are to blame?” Fudge wandered forward to give Cruz a welcoming sniff, his tail wagging slightly at the familiar face.

  “Correct,” he said, oddly forthcoming.

  “Hypothetically, would it be trouble if I went to talk to them? Presumably there is a story behind why they get an armed escort, and I get the impression they’d be willing to tell me.” I could also ask a local, of course, but I could do that at any time.

  Cruz snorted, at that.

  “You would be surprised, but, you know what? Sure. Go to the camp. You have my blessing, or whatever. So long as you do not start trouble, they will not harm you.” Seeing Cruz amused about anything was off putting, but that only tickled my curiosity even more.

  I took a moment to consider my schedule for the day.

  “I can make some time in the evening. Probably.” They said they’d be there for a day, so presumably I had time.

  “You do whatever you have to do,” Cruz said. “My presence here ended up being unnecessary, as usual.” He cleared his throat and spat the resulting globule off to one side. It made an audible splat when it collided with the street and I had to resist the unwelcome urge to look down at the resulting mess.

  “Tragic,” I said, making no effort to disguise the lack of actual sympathy I felt. “As much as I love hearing about how hard your life is, I have a place to be and I am already running late.”

  Cruz shrugged.

  “I never made you stick around. Go.” He took his own words as a signal to depart as well, turning to make his way towards wherever he went. Much of the crowd was slowly starting to disperse, as well, with most folks eager to get back to their days now that the spectacle was behind them.

  And I should probably do the same.

  -0-0-0-0-0-

  In the end, a decent chunk of people had used the excitement of the cult’s disruption as an excuse to take a break. Isa and her daughter ended up seeing a spike of business which left me unable to privately probe regarding the strange group presumably parked just outside the walls. I didn’t want to ask any of the patrons, since public opinion on the matter seemed obvious. While humouring Rio’s efforts to engage in talk of adventure, I overheard more than one person loudly curse out the ‘freaks’. The vitriol was almost impressive.

  Still, I was quick to find an excuse to leave whereupon I rushed back to the Slayer fort to try and salvage the afternoon. I decided to just fill the time with exercise– anything more structured might lead me down a rabbit hole if inspiration struck and I didn’t have the luxury of time if I wanted to properly engage with the cultists. The equipment I’d commissioned had long since been delivered and constructed, leaving me with an obstacle course that I’d come to know like the back of my hand.

  I felt the satisfying thrum of impact beneath every footfall as I raced towards the wall, a simple wooden thing almost three times my height. A thick rope hung flat against its side when I needed it. I was getting better at not needing it. Perseverance flared within me. The details were beyond me, but I knew there was a complex combination of forces at work that kept me anchored to the ground and limited how high I could reasonably jump, relatives of the various laws that choked in outrage whenever a bumblebee took flight.

  Much like the bee, I sought to defy those forces. Mana flowed throughout my entire form, with the greatest concentration gathering around my legs. Despite the weight of physics itself barring my way, I would persevere and achieve my goal - or so I told myself as I shaped the intent behind my Skill. I’d noticed a growing ease with which the proper frame of mind to bend Perseverance to my needs came to me. It was a strange thing, to be proud of practiced arrogance.

  One couldn’t argue with results, though. A small jump planted the balls of my feet against the wall. I bent my legs just so, braced myself, and pushed off. Within moments, my outstretched arm crossed the top of the wall and I grabbed hold before pulling myself the rest of the way over. I used the rope on the other side to quickly propel down, since I wasn’t quite ready to risk my ankles figuring out how to fall safely. My body was probably up to the task, but I figured better to wait until my next Advancement so that, worst case, I might get some tangible benefit to Recovery.

  The wall signalled the end of the course and I held my arms up in triumph, turning to Fudge as if expecting applause from him. He wagged his tail at the attention, which I decided was close enough.

  “What do you think, boy, once more?” It was a rhetorical question - I was definitely doing it again. Accomplishing things while relatively fresh was one thing, duplicating them while exhausted was another, and I wasn’t even close to exhausted.

  For all that I complained about not having enough time to train, I was excited to visit the cult’s encampment. It would almost be like a vacation.

  I’m going to try and ignore how sad that sounds. A quick smack to the cheeks to psyche me up was the only extra respite I gave myself before jogging back to the starting line.

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