A gentle breeze fluttered the papers Annette had spread out on the top of her desk. The breeze reversed and went back the other way to keep the fluttering motions up and prevent her from reading, until she gave up and sat back. Laurel leaned against the doorframe of her office, Martin’s head poking out behind her.

  “Excellent, I see youve reached a stopping place,” the woman Annette had agreed to follow stated the bold lie without so much as a twitch. Annette had learned to pick her battles and went along with it.

  “Of course, what can I help you two with?”

  “Today it’s what we can help you with, Annette, love,” Martin entered behind Laurel, a leather pack in hand.

  Annette’s training from years in high-end shops and noble households picked up on the quality right away; it was nicer than the ones she’d ordered for the initiates. A sinking feeling pooled in her stomach, but Laurel plowed on before she could gather her wits to say anything.

  “It’s time for you to leave the sect.”

  Even knowing it wasn’t what Laurel meant, Annette felt dread pulling her down at the casual comment. It was the same fear everyone in the sect was harboring to some degree or another. They might have made promises over some magical crystals but they all knew it could be taken away.

  “No, not like that! Sorry, sorry, terrible phrasing on my part,” Laurel said, a contrite smile on her face. “You went a bit dark there, you know we can’t, and don’t want to kick you out, right? I just mean it’s time for you to leave for a bit like the others have.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest. That was only slightly better. “Have I not been sufficiently completing my duties as Quartermaster?”

  “Annie,” Martin dodged the paperweight she threw at him for that, “you’ve been fantastic. Truly, incredible. That’s not it at all. In fact that might be part of the problem.”

  Laurel smoothly picked up where he left off. “You’ve taken so well to being Quartermaster, we’ve put too much pressure on you, and it's stunting your personal growth. As Sectmaster I’m supposed to look out for you. You can take a couple of weeks to get everything in order, and then you’ll take a little trip.”

  Martin raised the leather pack as if to emphasize the point. Annette’s thoughts were flying all over the place, but she managed to get one clear them out.

  “No. There’s no way I can leave. We have so much going on with the sect, I have to help out the new guild. With Martin and Adam leaving soon, I can hardly abandon you to do it all Laurel.”

  Annette hated how shaky her voice sounded, like she was begging instead of making a reasonable argument. She wanted to flee this conversation but two old monsters were standing in the way. Never before had her quiet, perfectly arranged office felt so confining.

  “I mean, not forever, but I can manage a few weeks on my own with the kids.”

  “I’ll go when everything has settled down here.” Already she was onto bargaining. Her old mentors would be ashamed, you never concede so early in a negotiation.

  Laurel finally paused and took a moment to really look at Annette. It felt like her entire soul was on display for the older woman’s perusal. When she spoke again her tone was softer, like she was worried Annette would break if she spoke too loudly.

  “Where’s this really coming from, Annette? You were so adamant about joining in on the cultivating, before.”

  In the face of that much sincerity, Annette was helpless to do anything but answer. She wished she didn’t have to. It was one thing to admit to Adam while the city was in crisis, another to throw her feelings in the face of two people that had dedicated themselves to magic combat as children and seemingly never regretted it.

  “I’m… I… What if I try and don’t do it right? I’m good at this part, but,” her voice trailed off at the end.

  To her surprise Martin and Laurel were both nodding along at her broken explanation. Laurel looked to Martin who waved at her to speak.

  “Have we ever told you about our friend Farin?”

  Annette shook her head. The name was familiar but she knew the pain of that loss was still close enough to the surface that neither Martin nor Laurel liked to poke at it too much.

  “He wasn’t like Martin or me. Martin’s parents were part of the sect, so he always knew he would try and cultivate. I was a teenager when I admitted to my parents that I hated weaving, and applied to join the sect. We did the whole thing, lessons, adventures, et cetera.

  “Farin joined the sect when he was 35, having never cultivated before. He was working with his family, farming land outside the city they’d owned for generations. One day he realized he hated most of his life, and wanted to try something different.

  “He was a lot like you. Smart, talented, willing to work hard for the sect. He was also a lot like you in that he took it upon himself to take up chores with the gardeners, using what he already knew he was good at.

  “We only met him after completing a foraging mission for the head gardener that wanted to graft a new type of wild vine onto some of the ones the sect had, and sent us out to find it. That’s not important. What is important is that Farin’s cultivation wasn’t progressing because he was worried he would fail if he stepped out of his comfort zone. And then all manner of horrible consequences would happen, getting kicked out of the sect, something happening to his family, who knows what he was thinking.

  “He was wrong and so are you.”

  “Oh, so you know for certain I won’t fail?” She could take an absurdly appropriate life lesson but Annette was too practical to buy false platitudes.

  “No, you’ll definitely fail,” Martin said. “Everyone does at some point. Pushing it off just allows the specter of that failure to become some insurmountable obstacle in your head. We dragged Farin out with us after we found him hiding away, and he got his ass handed to him by a spirit beast. Then the next day Laurel exploded the thing she was trying to enchant. I, of course, was the exception and was good at everything the first time I tried it.”

  If Annette had another paperweight she would have thrown that one as well.

  “I feel like this was a long-winded way of you telling me that you’ve already decided and I’m going,” she said into the silence.

  “It was supposed to be inspirational. I won’t force you Annette, but I really think you should go.”

  A century-old warrior with lightning powers should not be able to look that plaintive. Martin just looked exasperated, and Annette had a sneaking suspicion that if he was the sectmaster he would absolutely be forcing her to go.

  “Fine. But I need a month to plan. And find somewhere to go.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Excellent,” Laurel was suddenly all smiles again. “You have two weeks and I already know where you should go. You were really interested in the spatial tattoos right?”

  “Yeah, before you told me it was the worst agony of a lifetime!”

  “If you want to feel out if you have any compatibility with spatial mana, you can go explore the hidden realm the kids found.” Laurel neatly sidestepped the pain comment and held up a hand to stall Annette’s protests.

  “I already checked with General Mansfeln after the defense array discussions. Thanks for skipping out on that Martin, by the way.”

  Martin’s retort was a rude hand gesture and a seated bow.

  “They have soldiers stationed there to prevent anyone from wandering in but they haven’t explored it yet. It will be more interesting now that it’s stabilized, and it’s the perfect place for a budding spatial cultivator. You can even take someone form the sect with you if you want, or a couple of the army cultivators.”

  For someone who claimed an aversion to politics, it was extremely well-played. Annette’s major avenues of protest were addressed and cut off, contingencies already in place. A masterful bit of forethought on Laurel’s part, and the woman was aware of it if the smug grin was anything to go by.

  “Ugh, fine. Two weeks and I’ll go on an adventure of my own. Only a short one though.”

  “Perfect, we’ll talk more as it gets closer,” Laurel said, while she and Martin swanned out of the room.

  She slumped back in defeat. Annette gave herself one full minute to wallow. When that was up, she pushed the newspapers off to the side and pulled out a fresh ream and new ink. If she was going to be ready to leave the sect in two weeks, there was a mountain of work to get to and no time to wait.

  *********

  “Today’s the day?” Laurel was looking at him with a weird expression on her face.

  “Aw, L, are you going to miss me?”

  “Honestly, yes. And it's taking everything in me not to freak out about anyone in the sect willingly going back to Laskar.”

  Martin dropped the playful act. Laurel didn’t show vulnerability that easily. Though things had been different for the last couple of years.

  “It has to be done. And you know Devon and I will keep Adam safe.”

  “I know.”

  Both masters paused then, staring out at the city from their perch on top of the sect house dome. They had long since reached the point of being comfortable with each other in silence.

  “Two years in this place. It feels like ages. But at the same time, like everything has passed in the blink of an eye. I’m still getting used to not knowing what’s next, or how to plan for it,” Laurel finally said.

  Martin knocked his shoulder into hers. “You’re doing amazing L, and you don’t have to do it alone. But when I get back maybe you and I should stay put for a while. Maybe do something Farin and Imelda would have liked.”

  He caught wetness glistening in her eyes that matched his own.

  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  Nothing more had to be said. This wasn’t the first time they had seen each other off into danger and it wouldn’t be the last. Martin took the moment to study the city one last time before heading out. From the Flats all the way up to the palace, it was a weird place full of hyper-specific rules and a rigid love of paper and way too much tea. It was also the place his family was rising from the fucking ashes, where he’d found his best friend after thinking she was dead and gone, and where he was starting something that had the chance to be truly special. So if he had to walk through enemy territory and figure out what they were doing in order to defend his home, so be it. Time to get started.

  *********

  “Almost there, just over the next hill line should do it,” Martin called out to where they were walking behind him. He bounced along with barely concealed excitement.

  Devon was in an extravagant suit, as usual, the orange paisley pattern an absolute eyesore to Adam’s sensibilities. The enchanter strolled over hills and through the dense underbrush like it was a walk in a manicured garden, not a hair out of place or a drop of sweat on him. Adam, by contrast, was huffing and puffing while carrying a large pack. This was day two of their hike and he already felt the grime of the outdoors seeping into his very soul. People had created civilization so they wouldn’t have to deal with the woods anymore, for fuck’s sake. And the others had insisted he carry his own pack, because it was a “rite of passage” and “no one appreciates storage rings unless they’ve suffered”.

  They broke out of the trees and crested a rise to see … a beach. A small cove with a pebble-lined shore. It was pleasant but it was just another stretch of coast line, like any of a thousand others they had passed in the last two days.

  “This should be good.”

  With no more warning than that, Martin walked right out, staying on top of the water until he was a few dozen meters offshore. The man waved his arm and a boat dropped down in the water next to him, sending a small wave to splash against the sand and rocks. Adam gaped.

  “A boat? We walked two days through the dirty woods to find a place for a boat, when we live in a city with the second largest port in the country?”

  “We’re being sneaky!” Martin shouted back, with a grin that was charming enough to get him out of almost anything.

  Devon rolled his eyes, muttered “showoff”, and then pulled out a metal disk he threw into the shallows. It expanded into a floating platform, probably three meters across. At a gesture Adam scrambled onto it and they floated to meet Martin at the boat.

  “The royal council knows where we’re going, but that’s it,” Martin said. “A public trip into enemy territory isn’t the best move, so we implied pretty heavily to Sabrina and some of the others that we’d be going down to Jaranda to meet up with people there. Didn’t want anyone to see us leaving or recognize the ship – not a boat – and that’s why we’re here.”

  The man tossed a rope ladder over the side. Adam reluctantly scrambled up, distinctly feeling his lack of grace in front of the other two men. Devon didn’t bother and jumped onto the deck, snapping his fingers to cause his platform to collapse and fly back to his hand.

  Adam took a moment to peer around the ‘ship’. Maybe yacht was a better term. The boat was built along sleek lines, and he could see a hatch that would hopefully lead to an area he could sleep with a solid roof over his head. It looked fast. Knowing Martin, that would be an understatement. A thick mast held up a large sail, while ropes and other boat-things he couldn’t name were neatly stored around the deck. It was maybe a dozen meters long, which made it the largest vessel Adam had ever set foot on.

  “Is this thing big enough to cross an ocean?”

  “Thing?!” Martin’s tone was playfully incensed, but Adam detected a real note of hurt beneath. “The Tide’s Defiance is a work of art, and one of the best personal vessels money can buy.”

  “Or what money could buy a millenia ago,” Devon added. The man had already brought out a chair and was lounging in the front of the deck.

  “True. But she’s still a beauty. And more importantly, she’s enchanted. And has fins.”

  “Fins?” Adam was entirely lost. He was a land creature. A pampered indoor pet. Were boats supposed to have fins?

  “Look over the side while I get her ready,” Martin answered instead of explaining like a normal person.

  Adam did it anyway. He was learning, if slowly, how to navigate the wonderful complexities of the other man. Waking over to the polished railing, Adam made sure he had an extremely firm grip before leaning slightly over the edge. He remembered to send his spiritual senses out as well, and he could feel Martin’s mana doing something complicated at the ship’s wheel. Before his eyes, Adam watched as part of the hull peeled itself away, forming underwater wings, or fins he guessed. The structures had a stiff frame, with something resembling the sails covering it. Another pulse of Martin’s mana, and he could see the fins bow outwards as water pushed into them, the ship jolting at first, and then gliding smoothly through the waves as they started out to sea, with not a wisp of wind to be felt.

  The other men convened around where Devon was lounging in the front. Martin pulled out an extra chair rather than making Adam use his camp stool, for which the grateful librarian gave a soft smile.

  “This counts as hospitality, so no need to rough it while aboard,” Martin said with a wink. He continued, as excited to explain the ship as he had been at the last orchestra concert he’d dragged Adam out of his office to go and see. “The mast is enchanted too, for when Laurel’s on board. Using ambient mana to fill the sails without an air attunement would be exhausting for a long trip, so the fins let me basically do the same thing underwater. It also means we aren’t depending on the wind to get us anywhere. Makes for a fast trip.”

  “It’s actually an impressive little bit of enchanting,” Devon said, eyes still closed and leaning back in his seat. “I’m guessing you didn’t get it in your old mountain fortress there.”

  “No, I had it commissioned when we all officially reached the expert stage, from the shipwrights at Old Windrest. Ancient coastal city on the far west of the continent Laskar’s on.”

  Adam assumed the last was added for his benefit. When the conversation lapsed, Adam pulled out one of the journal’s he had packed for this trip and began writing down everything they’d done that day, along with the little bit of history. If he was being forced onto an adventure, it for damn sure was going to be recorded in the Archive afterwards.

  **********

  Laurel felt a wave of nostalgia as she walked into the guild headquarters in her old healing shop. A year wasn’t that long, and yet it felt like an age since she and Adam had found the empty building to serve as an official address on their documents with the city. Now it was a fashionable little guild hall that wouldn’t be out of place in any of the middle class districts further up the hill. One of the local cultivators Laurel hadn’t met yet was sitting behind the desk, with Sabrina standing by the job board with a sheaf of papers in hand.

  “Oh, Madam Stormblade, I didn’t expect you.”

  “I thought it might be a good time to make some progress on my yearly guild contract quota. Got anything good for me?”

  “I’m afraid it's mostly hunting requests at this point. I suppose if that’s what you would like to do, Martin seemed to think those better suited to the young ones.”

  “Yeah, he’s right, I was just hoping something more interesting had come up. Backup plans then. I’ll do four lectures a year on more advanced cultivation topics. First one in two months. Sound good?”

  The former teacher nodded. Annette had clued Laurel in on that aspect to the guild charter, and that Sabrina had advocated for its inclusion. Laurel sent a thread of mana into the job board and posted the announcement, along with a date for the talk and a location at the sect house. The members of their tiny guild would have enough time to make it if they were interested. She spent another few minutes talking with the young woman working the desk. A local, she was from a nearby village, with a family that had managed to hang onto, and pass down, the methods for carving meridians. It was back out into the city after that.

  The rest of the day she spent roaming Verilia. She watched fishermen come in on the tide, saw merchants paying to use the new floating barges to move cargo uphill, walked by schools, and workshops, factories and abandoned lots with weeds springing up in the cracked foundations.

  Cultivation linked her to the city and the Core, but she wanted the truth of this place with her own eyes. The others would scatter for the moment, growing and learning far and wide. The kids would feud and bicker. For Laurel it was time for her to grow roots; she had what she needed to take their Town Core into that of a City, then a Capital. And with rivals around the world, she would make that her focus. Once Verilia was a World Capital, her people would be safe.

  Her last stop of the day was the palace. This time when she requested a meeting with the king, she was scheduled for the next week, instead of half a year in the future. Progress always felt good.

  Stars rose and the city bloomed on her way down the hill. She ducked into a few different pubs and taverns, buying dinner in one and drinks in the others, letting the gossip and jokes wash over her. When she finally made it back to the sect house it was with a smile. There was a long road ahead but she would savor each step of the journey.