The farm wasn't a farm, but a ranch by Harding's understanding. He wasn't going to argue with Rent over the semantic difference. He certainly couldn't explain the difference between a hobby farm and a homestead. Whatever the term was, the place sat quiet and still. A few animals were visible, some chickens and a couple horses, but there was no human movement around the yard. There was a large garden, but no fields for crops in sight. Just vast, softly rolling high plains grassland and fences towards distant trees and higher hills.

The monks were not met by anyone when they entered the cluster of buildings. After checking the farmhouse, Rent tried one of the barns. There they found an older man sitting on a worn stool at a workbench. The man was well into his fifties, his silvery hair cropped down and face clean shaven. He wore heavy pants and a full sleeve shirt which surprised Harding a bit as the sun on this high prairie was intense.

The old rancher looked up when they entered and stoically responded, "Welcome Home, Toly."

"Hi, Dad."

"Woah," whispered Harding, watching in amazement.

Dad?

"May we stay in the second cabin?"

"You know the rules."

"Yes, Dad. I was just making sure you didn't have visitors. I need a place to stay for a month, figured you wouldn't mind a little extra labor for a bit."

Those old pale eyes turned to Harding, sharp and unflinching. "This your new protege? He worth anything?"

"With spirit manipulation? Yeah. With the rest of it? Nah, he's miserable," Rent said nonchalantly as the two men stared at him.

"Hey…"

"I got a few things could use doing."

"Is the old barn still like it was?"

"Yep."

"Let me get him started, then we can catch up," suggested Rent. The old rancher nodded and went back to work on a bit of leather like they'd already left.

Rent led Harding to the smaller cabin. It was a simple structure of a single room. A stove sat in the middle and there were three bunks on one side. A crude table and three chairs filled half the remaining space. A small workbench waited barren under a small window in the wall with the door.

"Throw your stuff in, then follow me," Rent instructed after he had tossed his bag on a lower bunk. Rent walked out, expecting Harding to be following. Harding ditched his bags and ran after him. They entered the more weathered of the two barns and Harding was shocked. It was clean, wood floored, and almost empty. What was in there were a few various training dummies and a wall of weapons.

"Here's the rules," began Rent with a serious tone. "You're not allowed questions. You work if you want to eat, except Saturdays. And no noise if it's dark."

"How am I supposed to-”

Rent held up a finger for silence. "Dad's rules. Dad's place, Dad's rules. And don't bring up Mom."

Harding remained silent.

"Good, now come here. This is a simple striking dummy," Rent told him, pointing to a thick cylinder mounted to the wall, wrapped in some kind of braid. "Hit it."

Harding, unsure, walked up to it and punched it. He immediately regretted it. The braiding didn't nearly absorb the impact like he expected. Oddly, a small, red colored rod lifted up out of the center by an inch and then slid back down.

"No. I said hit it." Rent leaned over and casually hit it, the center rod flew up a foot. Revealed by the rise were graduated marks on the rod.

Harding tried again, knowing it would hurt and he got nearly the same result as the first. Rent stepped in behind him, tapping Harding's feet into position with his own and grabbed Harding around the waist. He said, "Relax here."

Harding obeyed. Rent twisted his hips. Moving him back and forth over and over to help him with the full body flow of the punch.

"Now hit."

Harding did, the scoring rod went up a bit more. It didn't hurt any less. Rent made him do it five more times.

"Good."

Rent grabbed him by his serratus. "Relax here." Again, Harding relaxed and Rent started moving him, twisting his core muscles. Over and over again, then made him do it together.

"Now hit."

The rod went up a bit more. "Do it until I say stop."

And so it went, step by step, then connecting them and moving up. Harding saw how each part, in proper order, added power. As they finished, Harding was feeling confident, the scoring rod nearly six inches.

Then Rent had him step away and this time he squared with the target and hit it. Harding felt a little spirit to it, but watched the rod telescope up to a bit over three feet.

"Knowing is not understanding. Understanding is not doing. To do, you must know. To do correctly, you must understand. Once you understand, it will change how you do. Eventually, through practice, you will do without knowing. Then you may learn more."

Rent rubbed the back of his head and looked over at the wall, as if he were looking through it to the other barn. "Uh, keep doing it until I return."

Is there a Rent separate from the monk?

Harding started again and was only vaguely aware of Rent leaving. He would punch, evaluate, adjust, and try again. He just kept repeating the cycle and blocking out everything else including the pain. It became trance-like, meditative. He asked, in his mind, for help from spirit, but there was no answer. He knew he could punch with both the physical and spirit body, but he hadn't been told to.

"Weak," commented Rancher. Harding stopped and looked towards the door, there stood Rent and his father.

"I didn't tell you to stop," Rent instructed, making Harding turn and keep trying. Rent was definitely different around his dad. Harding wasn't sure if he was excited about the change either.

Everything felt different while being watched. He couldn't find himself, that emptiness that he'd been tracking before. The scoring rod kept slipping down further and further, causing Harding more anxiety. It was a vicious loop and even though he was aware of it he couldn't seem to stop it. Frustration grew.

"Turn around," said Rancher. And when Harding did, Rancher said, "Hit me in the chest."

Harding, tentatively complied. Rancher didn't react. "Again, harder." Harding did again. And again. After about twenty punches, Harding was winded and Rancher hadn't moved. Harding stopped attacking just to be casually slapped by Rancher.

"He doesn't defend."

Rancher went to slap him again and Harding moved to block it only to have his feet kicked out from under him on the other side. Harding crashed hard onto the wood floor and groaned. Rancher grunted. "Don't see what you're going to do in a month. Maybe by spring he wouldn't die in his first fight."

"I'm just using the time we have. We are a religious order tasked to a life on the road, not an established combat school."

Rancher scratched his jaw, watching Harding stand up. "Not much value in doing something without intending to finish."

Rent admitted, "He would be better off with that consistent drilling over years. I can't offer that. This is better than anything else I can get him in the time we have. And, well, I wanted to see… home." Harding was sure he was going to say he wanted to see his dad, but he didn't. It seemed like a tough relationship.

Rancher sniffed, picked at something in his teeth with his tongue and looked down at Harding despite being shorter. "Explain the basis for your claim of him being a fast learner."

"I left him with a book for a month and when I returned he was better at spirit body manipulation than any one at that temple."

Rancher's lip twitched, dismissive of… something. Harding wasn't sure whether it was spirit work or the temple monks.

"His combat training so far is a week with Bradon and the hour I left him alone after showing him a basic punch."

Rancher was silent. He was clearly thinking and no one wanted to disturb him. He finally looked back at Rent then at the various dummies asking the wall. "This is how it will be," he stated firmly. "We eat at dawn. We work the ranch until noon. Lunch and a nap, then I'll train both of you until dark. Once the sun is down, do your magic stuff and sleep. Sunrise, we start again. Except Saturdays. And the anniversary. We start tomorrow. I'm going to go make dinner, foods on in thirty. "

His proclamation of training and dinner seemed like the same topic, there was no change in tone. Harding got up and went to dust himself off when he realized there was no dust. Rancher kept this barn extremely clean.

Harding watched Rancher leave and then walked up to Rent.

"Uh, what just happened?"

"Dad's going to train you for a month as long as he gets another crack at me."

"And how do you feel about that," Harding asked.

"No questions," Rent admonished, but then admitted, "I am conflicted. The absolute best training you could receive in the Empire if you don't have a crown or an invitation to one of three specialty schools. And maybe better than some of those schools."

"But, you're unhappy about some of it."

"You better appreciate this because I think he's going to try to settle some things with me."

All of this meant he would need to be around all day, six days a week. While it gave him pause he realized he'd already set the precedent. Harding leaned against one of the support posts and looked inquisitive. The silent question hung there as it took Rent a moment to realize it. He laughed, "I'll allow it. He trained me when I was a kid, as an instructor's son at Clifton-Akers Academy. Before I graduated, things... happened. Dad came back here and I quit and joined the temple. Life's been harder for both of us since."

Rent shrugged as if to say things happen.

"Well, maybe we both have unexpected opportunities here."

"Yeah," Rent said, looking back at the door his father had excited. "Maybe."

He turned and slapped Harding in the shoulder. "Speaking of unexpected things, let's go ahead and deal with your new godseed."

Back in their cabin, Harding sat staring at the leech seed that sat on the table. "Each color represents a god.”

Rent arched an eyebrow.

“What, it wasn't a question!”

Rent snorted. When he started talking again, his voice was hesitant. “Mostly correct. Probably. That's the commonly held theological theory. Seven gods, seven colors of seeds. And orange is Kasagos."

"He's not Okkor."

Harding could do this statement-as-question trick with Rent, but he suspected it wouldn’t be tolerated in front of Rancher.

"True. You understand Okkor reasonably well by now. Kasagos, he's… well, I'm sure his monks would tell you I'm wrong," Rent waved his hands dismissing them. "Kasagos is slow, he suffers, he boils- full of pain and vengeance. And that's what you need to understand when you think of him.”

Needing to think about how to be slower didn't sound like a good sales pitch to Harding. Lost in thought, he messed up and asked a question, "If I want to be mentally slower or physically?"

"No. It doesn't make you actually slower, it just won't speed you up. Leech is a weird one too, I think. All the copper banded seeds tend to be a bit unique honestly. Maybe the gold ones too, I guess, but not as much."

Rent paused, "A little off topic there."

Harding quirked a lop-sided grin. As far as he was concerned, any information on seeds was a boon. It was one thing to read a book like Powerballz, but real world observations were much more useful.

Theory only gets you so far in the ‘real’ virtual world.

Rent started his lecture, "You understand the three gates and their basic functions. You understand the mechanics, polarity, setting, sealing, all that. So it really comes down to forming a unified strategy with your skills, your assets and your other seeds. What’s the best functioning combination for you. "

Rent leaned back in the chair, "It's not permanent, you can move it around and try things out. All the concerns about paying for seed services obviously don't apply to you. I'll tell you what I know, but it'll be good for you to experiment and practice yourself."

Harding stared at the godseed hungrily. It just sat there on the table, a globe of orange potential. Something about it creeped him out, maybe it was the association with Kasagos. Yet where some seeds he'd seen had a swirl to their color, this one almost writhed. He wanted power. He had wanted loot. Now was the time and he wasn't going to let himself get weirded out thinking about putting a metaphorical snow globe of leeches inside himself.

"I think leech is a movement type Heart, but I've never seen it used. Non-combat movement skills aren’t a popular choice with the public power use, but I hear thieves like them. And like any Heart, it will change your body a bit over time. Leeches are known to be harder to kill."

It was underwhelming to him. Non-combat skills were great in a party, but his issue was he wasn't useful enough in combat. His foreseeable party was simply Rent, he needed to be effective in situations like the bridge bandit fight.

"You know that thing’s Throat power," Rent chuckled at his little joke. "All the curse type throats are great in a group though. Not much flash, but over time very effective over time."

Harding scowled but had to agree. He didn't think Beard would have landed a blow on Rent without it. Harding was no combat monster himself, so it had some benefit.

Debuffers add value.

"Mind leech is kind of disturbing. It makes open wounds and curses worse. I think it feeds off them too, there is some other more subtle effect there. Haven't fought one that I know of, but I did fight a monster once that had something like it according to the folks I was with. One on one, it's not so bad. In group combat though they're a nightmare to go against. Everyone targets a Mind leech quickly because of the accumulative effect they have. They're absolutely devastating in long combat or mass combat."

Harding tried to process that. In the Heart it wasn't considered great for combat. The fast attack of the Throat was an increasing disabler. And the slower to use Mind manifestation was only really useful in group combat, where it would also make you the immediate target.

"I'll have to think about it. Also, I need to find books on how voidseeds function."

Rent stood from his chair and stretched his back. "They're basically blank seeds." He looked meaningfully at the doorway. Harding got up and walked to the door before pausing and looking back. "Yeah, but I think they affect the spirit body."

Rent was unconvinced, "Not that I've heard."

Once through the door, Harding slipped out and side stepped. He walked shoulder to shoulder with Rent to the main cabin. He took the time to chew on Rent’s dismissal of voidseeds having effects.

A few moments later, Harding gave up considering what Rent said versus what he wanted to believe. "Maybe. I just got that impression from a trade I made."

Rent looked at him.

“Voidseeds. I traded for one.”

Rent shrugged facially.

Then what was Yhavat’s purpose?

Rent opened the door and they went in as light was settling just behind the tips of the distant trees. Inside, this cabin was similar to the other. This one was a little larger and had actual interior walls. The interior doors were just hanging pieces of cloth though. The drum shaped stove had an actual flat top and oven door above the fuel hatch. Even the workbench counter was improved with an inset basin as a sink.

Rancher had already dished up the plates. Steak, beans, and biscuits. They washed their hands in the basin and sat down.

No one spoke through the whole meal.

Afterwards, Rancher looked at the dirty plates and then at Harding. Harding understood, picked them up and put them in the basin and began to clean them with the supplies he found. Behind him, Rancher gave his prediction on the weather and tomorrow's ranch tasks if his prediction was right. It seemed like no matter what, Harding would be cleaning out the barn.

After the short discussion, the evening was over and they returned to the cabin. Harding had debated what to do with his seed, but in the end he knew he could try different configurations. He moved his voidseed to his Mind, the crypted and contaminated voidseed to his Throat, and set the leech to his Heart. All of them set neutral and sealed.

He felt it immediately.

There was a cool warmth in him. It was just a slight buzz of something barely perceptible, shivering on the edges of perception. A dancing blur somewhere between the spirit and the physical, flickering like flames. He'd probably get used to it and stop noticing quick enough, but for now it was like a loose flap fluttering in his mind. His attention kept going back to examine the change.

"It feels like it's leaking."

Rent laughed. "That's Heart gates for you. They saturate your physical body slowly when first anchored. Give it a day and it will feel more solid."

"How, er, ah- I don't know how to use this."

"Let's go outside to do it."

The two went outside and stood there in the leaking light of their cabin’s door and window. Somewhere up in a tree an owl hooted over the soft drone of the night's insects. The whole setting burned in Harding’s mind.

"Seeds operate like lungs," Rent explained. "I'll skip the theories there, though I got a few books you could read on it. Think of it like you breathe spirit in through your body, especially your feet and legs. It coalesces with a direct tap of the fresh spirit current coming deep from, ah, your lower extremities."

"Asshole."

"Something like that, not quite that though."

"So spirit is like breathing in through your ass…"

"Kind of, it's more like the spirit body is a permeable body that absorbs ambient energy from this dimensional existence as well as a flow from another dimension. Then it combines the flows and pushes the energy up a channel through the sequential chambers you know as gates. Then through each gate’s unique system, producing different manifestations of the anchored seed's power."

"I know that."

"So, use of one is similar to breathing, but with your spirit body. Instead of manipulating the edges and shape, you're drawing in and exhaling. All known seeds have an exhale function. That is, pushing energy into that gate, which floods the seed, then exhaling through its walls instead of up to the next gate. Something we usually teach initiates in the temple. Oh, and don't forget to psychically breathe, too. Your body should do it on its own, but sometimes those signals get mixed up and the initiate passes out."

Harding contracted his spirit body, similar to drawing, but without extending himself. He felt the increase inside him as it channeled up through the leech and drained slowly out of him. He did it several more times, feeling the pulse of the leech as it was pressurized and then released.

"Ok, try to control the gate. You should be able to almost pinch off the flow of that gate and really expand it."

Again Harding tried, and though he had some success, this was much more difficult. It felt like trying to hold your breath and exhale at the same time, but in your throat.

"And then consciously exhale through the seed instead of the gate."

Something foreign flared, yet nothing happened. "Uh…"

"Hmm. Try to focus your intent on a target for the power. Some seeds require an appropriate target."

Harding inhaled while trying to pinch the top of the gate closed, pushing the exhale through the leech while looking at a spot in front of him. Instead of moving, it felt like he blew a spray of spirit leeches into his body.

"Shit."

"Explain."

"Think I cursed myself…"

"With a Heart gate that would be extremely odd. Determine if it's that lethargy-type curse."

"No, it’s," Harding paused, trying to get a better feel for it. Taste seemed a better explanation, or maybe even smell. There was a flavor to the parasites and it was different from what Beard had done to him with this seed. "It's just gross, like things crawling in my flesh."

"Hmm. Well, push them out and either try again or we can go inside."

"I'll try again."

Harding pulled in the parasites, feeding them to the crypt’s dirty voidseed. It wasn't efficient, but they liked spirit energy and came with it into the channel as Rent had called it. Once clear, Harding tried again. Same result, a torrent of invasive leeches.

"Nope."

"Ok. It’s something you just have to develop a feel for. Either that or it maybe has some unusual function. Most seeds are just exhale and maybe inhale functions. There are others though. Then there are spellform variations… I'm going to sit on the porch and read. You keep trying as much as you want. "

"I don't know this inhale function."

"Think of it like the inverse of the normal function. Some seeds, in some gates, can be inverted. Like, when I copy your staff. I inhale to copy and exhale to create. Exhaling harder brings the copy into existence more forcefully. Then there is boosting for even more power…"

"Boosting sounds great, but let's do this inhale/exhale stuff first."

"Right you are. The inhale, or inverted function, is usually weaker and often the support or triggering function. Repair for instance can be inverted to destroy, but it's notably weaker in effect."

Harding nodded along but towards the end he just pulled in energy and then gave a quick push of energy straight into the seed. Not through it, not out it. Just over pressuring it. His body felt a flash of compression and then nothing.

"Inhale didn't work either."

"You can start to see why people who have just got a new seed are not effective with them. There are several compendiums of seeds, none of which seem to be completely correct but they are all sought after anyways."

Harding sat on the ground and exhaled leech. The parasites spread. He then inhaled leech and the parasites dissolved.

"What the…”

Harding did it again.

Rent was talking but he didn't hear. The parasites would dissolve into him on the inhale, but they weren't adding energy back into the spirit body. Rent’s breathing analogy wasn’t exactly accurate, at least for Harding. It was more like flexing a muscle versus moving the body with the muscle.

"When I inhale the spirit parasites dissolve."

"So exhale creates the effect and inhale removes it. Suggesting you maybe don't want it to just run its course? It is possible I'm wrong about it being a movement ability. Or, maybe, you're manifesting some alternative spellform instead of the primary."

Harding sighed and climbed his fingers through his hair, absently noting it was getting longer. "So we learn something, but open up more possibilities."

"Unfortunately, but, there's always tomorrow,” Rent encouraged half-heartedly. “You can sit out here and work on it if you like but Dad's serious about being at the table at sunrise. You'll probably think you're going to die before dinner tomorrow."

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Sounds great," Harding mused sarcastically. "Oh, and Rent, thanks for your help."

"Have a goodnight Harding," Rent replied warmly and went inside.

Harding was out there for what he thought was another hour. He summoned the parasites, then unsummoned them. Repeating the actions over and over. He experimented too with summoning them, and then trying both the inhale and using the crypt to filter them. As much as he experimented he didn't find the answer or much of a difference.

He stood up, brushed himself off and went inside to sleep.

A rooster crowing at the sun woke Harding to another day of sleep deprivation. He took the time to throw some water on his face and pull on his boots before he hurried to the main cabin. When he entered, Rancher and Rent looked up from their plates. "Toly, I thought you'd win for sure, but here he is. Boy, put some food in you, we are headed out shortly."

Harding dished a plate of eggs, potato and some unknown ground meat and sat at the table. He was a few shoveled forks into his meal when he realized the revealed truth. "Wait, that means Rent bet against me..."

Rancher laughed and put his empty plate in front of Rent. Harding inhaled the rest of his food, surprised at how hungry he was.

"He needs real clothes if he's going to work," observed Rancher.

"I'll get him some Saturday, he can wear an apron until then."

"It'll work. Would have been better to pick some up on your way here though."

"Yes, Dad, it would have."

"Keep telling Marion he needs to increase patrols."

"I'm sure you do."

"Doesn't do any good though. Those Outriders they got are as soft as your apprentice here."

"After a month with you, I'd take Harding over them."

Rancher just nodded his disappointed agreement.

Rent started cleaning the dishes, and was a good way through, before Harding finished eating. When he brought them over, Rent handed him the knit scrub pad. "Bet was for each other's dishes, you get the rest. Come out to the big barn when you're done."

Harding walked to the big barn after he was finished. Inside he found the men saddling horses. Rent tossed him a heavy leather apron, then began to show him his next job. He was too muck out the three currently used stalls. After that he was to scrub the floors.

"We will be back before you're done, I'd think. Just going one pasture over."

Rancher and Rent rode off, leaving Harding alone at the farm. It took Harding an hour to clean out the stalls and lay fresh hay in them. While having heard the instructions, his lack of familiarity with the work and location was an obstacle. He then started on the floors, but was barely a half way through scrubbing the floorboards when Rent rode back in. Harding watched him through the open barn door..

Rent dismounted and stored the tack, before letting his mount have free roam of the attached corral. Harding was still scrubbing as Rent came back in. "You'll get faster at it with practice, my guess is you'll do this a fair bit. He loves the menial labor lessons. Think of it as physical meditation."

Harding grunted.

"I was thinking about your seed issue. I might have an idea, but we will save that for the appropriate time."

And with that Rent went to the work bench and began doing maintenance on some leather items in silence. A smell filled Harding's nose, something Rent was using on the leather.

"I would like to learn how to care for my leather goods when it is possible," he stated.

Rent stopped and looked over at him. "Yeah, we can manage that soon I'd think."

Rancher came back in on his horse soon after. "Set him up scraping paint, I want to repaint the big barn before fall. Then, come back inside." Rancher went about his tasks like they weren't there. When Harding finished the floor, Rent had already got out the scraper and set him to start scraping. Harding scraped the barn. And scraped. And when Rent came out, he started Harding at the beginning again and showed him how much scraping he was missing.

To Harding it felt forever before lunch, where he cleaned up and sat in silence again. He consumed a small loaf of bread, some kind of smoked fish that Harding couldn't identify and some fruit as he wondered again what he was doing. He was looking at hours of scraping paint off a barn in the middle of nowhere. As a game, for entertainment.

I’ve lost it.

Afterwards, the three went to the training barn where Rancher had them line up. "Unarmed combat is what we will learn. If you want to learn a weapon, make yourself the weapon then learn how to make it part of you."

Sounds like Bradon.

"We will be spending training time in three parts. The first hour will be fundamentals, the instruction on how to do. The second hour will be drills, teaching your body to do. The third will be sparring, the actual doing."

"Come here," Rancher instructed, standing next to a winged dummy. He then guided Harding through the correct distance, stance and motions. Striking a wing, causing multiple other wings to move, each at their own pace and with their own sets of wings. Rancher then guided the next set of movements which caused equally unequal shifts back the other way.

"When you attack, you are vulnerable. When they attack, they are vulnerable. We will cover how to bypass this cycle later, first you must learn what each action causes."

The rest of the hour was Rancher correcting, adjusting and showing variations. When Harding was sure there was no ending to the nightmare Rancher declared, "Drill time."

He pulled up a handle on the winged dummy and rotated it, then pushed it back down.

"Twenty-five percent. Start."

Harding did the opening strike and the opposing wing snapped around and hit him. He tried to push it back and got stuck in the opposing knee by a lower wing.

"Reset. Again."

And that was Harding's life for the next hour, being defeated by a clockwork coat hanger.

Exhausted and bruised, Rancher had him face off with Rent in the middle of the room. "Toly, you counter. Don't level him, but I won't have you bring soft either. Start."

Harding felt awkward. He weakly swiped at Rent. Rent just redirected his attack and backhanded him across the face.

"You want respect, you attack like you deserve it," barked Rancher.

Harding performed the attack harder and got slapped again.

"Harder. Again."

This time Harding didn't hold back. Rent still turned it with ease, but the resulting strike was a jab in the chest.

"Better. Keep going."

Harding kept attacking, being counted, and getting hit. Somewhere along the way he realized he could counter too. Slowly he worked up the amount of attacks he would achieve, but it was variable due to Rent changing his blocks and counters.

"Stop. Toly, set him to work. Then come help with supper."

Rancher turned and left. Harding sat on the floor, little more than a pile of suffering. He took long, deep breaths and every one of them hurt.

"I'm never moving again," Harding told Rent.

As a response, Rent walked around him and stood there with a broom.

"After every training session, you sweep the studio."

"Why?"

"To show it respect."

"It's a barn."

"On the outside, yes. Inside, it is your path. You show it respect. You show your teachers respect. In doing so, you show yourself respect. When you respect yourself, you take your sacrifices seriously."

Rent held out the broom.

Harding stood up, groaning. He took the broom. "I have to show you respect?"

Rent nodded.

"Well, shit."

Hatching wandered off with the broom, smiling to himself. Then he started to sweep and stopped, smiling. He ached and his body was shaking slightly. But he was doing it. Not sweeping, but progressing forward. Finally, steeling himself against exhaustion, he stopped thinking about it and just did it. When he finished, Rent was long gone and he put up the broom, blew out the last lantern and closed up the studio.

Supper was mostly quiet. Harding's appetite raged to start, but he found himself full quickly. Utter exhaustion threatened his very awareness. After eating, Rancher sent them on their way and cleaned up the dishes himself.

Harding was about to crawl into bed when Rent said, "I had a theory about the leech."

Harding just groaned, then turned back. He stared silently.

"I was thinking maybe the leech isn't a movement type. It's definitely not a shift, so maybe it's a blessing."

"I've got no idea what any of that means."

"Either it's a situational and complex movement, or it's not a movement at all."

"Ok."

"If it's not a movement, the effect it is causing in your body has another purpose. Heart either changes your body or changes where your body is, usually…"

"Ok."

"So try it now, see if it eats tiredness."

Harding shrugged, then regretted it. He exhaled leech, felt the intrusion of the spirit parasites and immediately regretted doing it while standing. He collapsed to the floor. Harding let out a whimper as he laid there and lightly drooled on the floor.

"Success! it teleported you to the floor."

"Hate," gasped Harding. "You."

"Might want to try the inhale function."

"Nha," groaned Harding.

Yet, he did. The effort to inhale felt like he was going to break, but it resulted in sudden relief. "Oh, that's better."

"Yeah. But you need to figure out if it fixed something or just hurts more when activated."

"Good point."

"So do it over and over until you know."

"My hatred is growing."

"If you want to know, you have to try."

"You are supposed to be my teacher, you should know the answers."

Rent ignored him, "You should see what effect keeping the parasites active longer has."

Harding sighed and exhaled. At least this time he was already laying on the floor. It felt like his flesh was going to burst, muscles and even bone ached and shook. And then he inhaled. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

"It just hurts more when I use it," Harding concluded. He picked himself up and crawled into his bunk.

"You said I should know everything," said Rent.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I understand. I just want to point out that there are seven colors, with four types each, acting differently in each of three gates. That's eighty-four combinations. Then factor in a good many of them have dual functions. Say that's one hundred and twenty. Then you get into seed orders, boosts, affinities, archon powers, and spellforms," Rent finished pulling off his robe. "That's a lot to know. I'm not a Ki'kero."

"Don't know what a Kai Hero is, but your math is wrong."

"I estimated."

"Yeah, but there are more than seven colors."

"No there isn't. I mean, there is the occasional semi-formed voidsphere, but they don't really do anything notable. "

"Yeah. But there are also the hidden colors."

Rent stopped moving. His face hard, he warned, "Don't say that in a church."

Too tired to care, Harding countered, "Yeah well, an Alphen told us there were hidden colors."

Rent moved to him quickly, face to face. "Harding. You need to tell me how you came into contact with an Alphen."

"Fine. I'll tell. But, I get a story in return. We exchange them. Commerce is the communion of society."

"Now you're quoting scripture…"

"Really? It's something I was told."

“Story time."

And so Harding told Rent of this adventure, leaving out a lot of details that weren't pertinent to understanding the end. He concentrated on the encounter with Ghasatavaro, Yhavat’s mediating and the trip to the Prism, Kharsir.

"Aleister asked for a full set of a hidden color,” Harding explained, emphasizing that it was a hidden color and not the hidden color. “Yhavat gave him three seeds that were clear. All with silver bands. Then Yhavat said something like ‘it would make up earlier to her’."

Rent had been quiet the whole time.

"That explains your familiarity with a noble house and a well established guild."

"Yeah. But it's not really my story to tell. I was there, I experienced it, but they're still attempting to make something of it and so I'm trying to honor their secrecy."

"Right. Which is good of you and I'll not tell anyone. However, don't ever tell that story again. Your story refutes damn near five hundred years of church doctrine in multiple ways. Completely challenges our concepts of creation, of godseeds, and more. The whole godling and throne concept alone would be considered blasphemous by the Church of the Seven. "

Rent went quiet. Then he said, "There'd be a mad scramble on all voidseeds, the Garnets would be summoned to the queen, every guild and power would fight to get access to that throne. Whoever has that set of hidden seeds would be a marked person. I'm sure there is more I can't think of at the moment. So, please, don't tell that story again, at least until it goes public."

Harding hadn't really thought it through, he just knew he wasn't supposed to talk about it and that had been good enough for him. Now, he wondered about even telling Rent. He sat on his bunk, back to the wall, and felt the weight of secrets.

"I will tell you about the Ki'kero,” Rent started. “Over a century ago, there was a secret school of warriors that were called the Ki'kero. At least, that's the common understanding of their name. They were so secret that even today there is no proof of their existence and most people say it is only a story."

Harding yawned.

"The Ki'kero were great martial artists who trained individually, and as units, from a very young age. Every member of their society was a student first and only after passing did they become regarded as an adult member. Which meant that everyone in their village, both the old woman herding geese and the middle-aged man baking bread were elite warriors."

Harding blinked away sleep and tried to stay awake. The day was crushing him with a fatigue that was painful.

"The Ki'kero were said to have every seed. And that every student had to master every seed in order to be raised to a full warrior. When they did, they would determine their seed combination and receive those seeds from the school."

Harding was losing the fight.

"... regarded as the epitome of seed mastery. Some even claim that it's against the Will of Heaven to only use a … should, therefore, endeavor to experience…"

Harding blacked out. He felt a presence near him. In his mind, he was sitting in the bunk alone. He wasn’t awake, nor was he dreaming. Yet daylight was coming through the front window, though the light was alien and cold. He turned his head to see a plain woman, pale in all aspects but her large, glossy black eyes staring straight at him. Clutching her dress was a little girl, thigh high to the woman. She was like a small copy, or perhaps a daughter who imitated her mother. She too, watched with glassy, wet eyes of blackness. The little girl raised a finger and pointed at Harding. The woman reached out and pushed her hand down, but didn't stop staring.

Harding came to with a start.

He was still sitting up, presumably asleep. The room was pitch black, Rent having gone to sleep. Harding looked to where the women and child had been, but saw nothing. He knew he should go to sleep, but he felt wired from that weird dream. He slipped off the bunk quietly and went outside. Sitting in the dirt in the same spot he had the night before, he began to exhale and inhale through the leech.

Harding didn't discover the use, there were no sudden revelations. Instead, he just practiced the activation. Trying to make it faster and more spirit efficient. Whatever it did, faster and easier would eventually be useful. Harding found that the spirit energy which entered his body through the Heart gate didn't feel like the same energy his muscles were begging for. It didn’t seem to combat fatigue. It was as if there was more than one energy body and the parasites were crossing boundaries. Yet, he made no further advancement in discovering its use. Nor did it make sense given what he knew.

He did, however, become terribly sleepy again. He went back inside and climbed into bed and slept deeply.

Harding woke to the rooster again, once more being tardy for breakfast. After breakfast, he spent the morning scraping the barn. A quick lunch and then a nap a little longer than an hour. Rent woke him up and walked with him to the training studio.

Rancher began teaching Harding something he called Bird Meditation. The exercise he taught was 'Hawk'. The name didn't make much sense to Harding, but as Rancher moved him through the motions he could start to see the usefulness of the skill. He was to train the body response in a negative state that was a union of empty mind meditation and muscle memory.

After teaching, observing, and correcting, Rancher told him to face the wall and practice.

Behind Harding, he could hear conversation but not the words. He struggled to not focus on the words, but instead just that there was the sound of conversation. Then the sounds of sparring, grunts, a grapple into a take down, more strikes… he fought it. He kept trying to understand what he was hearing. But he knew that was wrong for the exercise and judged his judgments.

Over time he was able to let go a little, to give up the hyperfocus and go deeper into his mind. He considered himself unsuccessful on the whole, but glimpses of the intent encouraged him.

After what was, presumably, about an hour Rancher called a halt and began the next phase. Both Rent and Harding were put through a vigorous body weight exercise session. Harding wanted to quit after ten minutes, but Rancher kept on him and Rent kept going. Determined, Harding just took Rent's pace and forced himself to keep going until his body gave out and he fell flat. Rancher kept at him verbally, encouraging him to keep going. After a quick pause, he'd push again until failing all over. It didn't end until Rent failed too.

With Rancher, you hadn't succeeded until you found where you failed.

At the end, Harding was genuinely worried he may die. He thought yesterday had been bad, but he realized it was only a display of his ignorance in how much worse it could be.

"Good first effort," said Rancher. "Now I know how weak you are, I can adjust."

Harding would have injected but he had neither the emotional or physical energy. Rancher seemed to read his mind, "Weakness is not the lack of power, but the willingness to quit."

Harding was pretty sure he could feel his heart beat in his eyeballs. He sucked air, watching Rancher with slightly fuzzy vision.

"Rent, come help with supper. Harding will pay respects," Rancher patted the broom for emphasis.

Harding spent the next half hour, shaking and pushing the broom. When he finished he put everything back in its place and went to the Rancher's cabin. Supper was steak, potato and broccoli.

After, when Rent and he went back to the cabin, Handing admitted, "I fell asleep during your story last night."

"That's ok. They're just the most fearsome warriors to ever live and legend has it they fought Death to get back a daughter who was loved by all." Rent was being sarcastic, but it was said with a genuine smile.

"That sounds pretty epic, saving a princess from death…"

"Oh, she wasn't a princess. She was a promising student, but not the best. By all accounts, she was fairly normal for their village. However, she brought joy to their hearts and in her death, this village who faced death often decided they'd had enough and sought out Death itself."

"Oh."

"And no one ever heard of them again, or so the story goes. But after that, the dead began to return all over the world. We certainly know that at some point death went from permanent to how it is now, a kind of intermittent permanence. Whether the Ki'kero existed, or if they had anything to do with that change, we can't say for sure.”

"I wish we had some idea on this leech power."

"I'll check in Tamis Cross Saturday, they might have a book. Otherwise, I'll write to a scholar friend in Bleggenburg."

Harding shrugged. He wanted to know now, but that wasn't going to happen. It was a challenge to make peace with the obstructions, but there wasn't anything he could do other than give up. Which he would not.

Harding scratched his head, feeling sticky. He pondered, “Thinking about moving it to the Throat gate.”

"You could, but you'd need a living target. If you want to tell Dad you want to practice magic by cursing one of his chickens over and over, good luck to you."

"Maybe the rooster…"

"No."

"Then I don't know what to do."

"Keep practicing the spirit breathing. You'll need that no matter what. Also, summoning those parasites causes fatigue. You could use them to make training harder."

Harding stared at Rent like he'd lost all sanity.

Rent grinned mischievously, "Just a thought."

Harding went outside, to his patch of dirt and did his spirit meditation. As the sun went down, he switched to the spirit breathing. Repeatedly summoning and unsummoning the parasites, he began to experiment.

Harding found he could blow the parasites up his spirit channel directly into the crypt and even past it. It was worth noting how flexible the system was, but the exercise stuck him as kind of like trying to force yourself to throw up so you could get bile in your sinuses. It was noteworthy also that the inhale only removed the parasites from the spirit body and physical body. Once in the crypt, they seem disconnected from the leech’s functions.

Harding went to bed and slept soundly that night. In the morning, he woke and and went to breakfast. On entering, he saw Rancher and Rent sitting at the table, already eating.

"Today is Saturday," Rent informed him, mouth half full of what looked to be bacon.

"Oh, right," replied Harding, he'd genuinely lost track but was currently focused on the bacon.

Rancher forked his eggs, "After breakfast, we'll hitch the buckboard and go to town. We need some food, a couple pieces of hardware, and I have a few personal errands."

"I need to find some work clothes, too," remember Harding aloud as he watched Rent cut his pancakes into little squares.

Rancher grunted.

Harding hurriedly dished what seemed like the best breakfast he had ever had. They didn't have syrup, but Rancher had picked up some heavily spiced apple butter the week before and Harding made a note in his journal's shopping list to find more of it in town.

After breakfast, Harding helped Rent uncover and roll out the buckboard. It was strange looking to Harding, a thin box with great steel leaf springs on wheels. They pulled it around the barn where Rancher had started walking out and prepping the horses. Once it was hooked up, Hang begged off and ran back to the bunk house to grab his things before returning to jump into the back, as Rancher and Rent took up the bench seating.

They took a road out of the ranch and down the side of the hill, different than the footpath Rent had brought them in on. Harding saw why Rent had used the footpath quickly, the road was longer, cutting a more controlled angle through the hills before spilling out onto the main river road. They followed the river to the bridge and then over it without incident.

There were no bodies or other signs of violence. Though Harding thought he saw a few darker patches.

Tamis Cross wasn't anywhere near the size of a Gremuth district, but it was pleasant. Large enough to have a bit of industry and gentry, yet small enough to feel busy without being crowded. Situated to have markets for produce fresh off the farms, Harding found he rather liked it. It was manageable, instead of being overwhelming. They rolled to a stop in front of a building with a sign that read, "Paine Hardware".

"I'm going in, then the General. If you find the wagon unattended, I'll be right back. Rent, go take care of your needs and meet me out front Nightbaron's."

"Ok, Dad," Rent acknowledged and slid off the buckboard’s bench. "Come on Harding, let's get you taken care of."

Rent led Harding through the streets with obvious familiarity. The place wasn't big, just a handful of streets running parallel with the river and regularly spaced but irregularly angled crosses. Their first stop was a bookstore, called Taninwort, where Rent engaged a well-aged gentleman who was short and round.

"Ysac," Rent greeted.

"Toly, what a pleasure as always," the merchant warmly exclaimed. Harding could imagine Rent being the type to be a big customer out here. The merchant, Ysac, looked around conspicuously and whispered loudly, "You have anything to sell me?"

Rent pulled out a couple books from his bag and handed them over without a word. The book merchant glanced quickly over them, eyes gleaming in delight.

"And what would you like for these?"

"Three silver for the green one, but that other is a first printing, another eight for it," Rent said, holding up his hand to stay Ysac's haggle. "Thing is, I'm looking for a book so I'm happy to talk about trades if you have something."

Ysac looked at Rent like he had just descended from the heavens to proclaim the merchant blessed. "What is it that you are looking for?"

"Tamelin's Guide or Raines' Compendium," Rent listed, paused, then added hesitantly, "Maybe Gailbrandt's, but I'm not a fan of his."

Ysac gave a scandalized look, "Oh my, the thought of me even trading in Gailbrandt's prattle makes me feel ill."

Rent just nodded, ignoring the theatrics.

"Sold my last of 'Guide to the Will of the Heavens' a month ago. Haven't been able to get any more yet. Seems like everyone's buying them up suddenly. Raines is less popular, as I'm sure you know, still haven't had any of those for a winter.” Ysac looked almost saddened as he proclaimed with a sigh, “Less popular being less printed, even if it's superior.”

Rent tapped his fingers on a nearby shelf in thought.

Ysac hurried on, fearful of coming up short, “I've got a first edition of 'Undertow' and a beautiful private press of 'Spiritus Rex', if you're interested?"

"What I actually need is something on Kasagosian seeds, I was just hoping for a more complete working.”

Ysac’s mouth opened silently. “Toly, are you switching temples? No. None of my business, forgive me.”

Rent just cracked a smile both slight and suffering.

Ysac flapped his hand at Rent as if it was going to lethargically take flight. "Ah, about midwinter last, this Reductionist comes into the shop. Beats me what he's doing in the Canyons, but it isn't my concern, right? He wants to sell me some prints because he's lost his… oh, nevermind, point is, I've got just the thing for you."

He toddled off, leaving the two of them standing. Rent looked at Harding and arched an eyebrow, slowly growing to a grin. There was a loud collapse, some indeterminate oaths uttered, a moment of silence and then Ysac reappeared. He handed a black bound book to Rent.

Ysac sniffed and declared, "There you go, 'The Blade that Hones', standard text of the Disassemblists. They're the more occult sect of the Kasagosian Brotherhood, as you know. And, if you're familiar with the work, besides all the basic Reductionistic theories and Disassemblistic conspiratorial chatter about 'hidden truths and acts', there is a comprehensive breakdown of their god's seeds in there."

Rent paged through it then inspected its bindings. "How much?"

"Five. It's a sacred text not meant for sale."

"Both my books for this, the copy of 'Spiritus', and a silver. An Imperial Eagle, not an Ihrovian Crown."

The two haggled for a bit, ending at an amicable exchange, plus three Imperial coppers.

As they walked out, Rent handed Harding 'Blade', with a comment, "Disassemblistst monks are weird, don't let their philosophy influence you. Their thoughts are like a virus. It's like a man who stares into a mirror until he is unsure if he stares or is stared upon."

"Sounds lovely."

"Let's get you some work clothes."

And with that, they made a quick whirlwind of shopping. A pair of identical, basic outfits of trousers and a shirt. Finally, some work gloves to cross that off the list. A stop at the post office, where Harding picked up a very small local broadsheet there while Rent took care of personal business. And a stop at the stand of a local woman named Edith who sold the apple butter that had so enamored Harding. Rent picked up a single flower there, a variety Harding wasn't familiar with and didn't ask about.

Not my business.

They found Rancher at Nightbaron's, which wasn't a bar but instead an armsmerchant.

Rent explained as they neared the place, "A Nightbaron is the big local owl species, kind of the mascot of the area."

"How big?"

"Hmm… could take a toddler before you could react."

"Crap."

The prices were high. At least that was Harding's assessment. That didn't mean the deal was unfair though, as Harding honestly didn't know the market rate for quality weapons in the backwaters. Then again, Bresham wasn't that far and neither was a handful of other big cities. The prices though meant everything in the shop was simply far outside Harding's current means. He didn't need anything currently, but the inability roused that long-standing itch.

"How do I make money," Harding lamented.

"We'll make a years worth at CombO. Otherwise, by any normal means. Selling services, dabbling in trade, or various crafts. And the Brothers’ stipend."

"We get paid," Harding exclaimed.

Rent laughed. "I get paid. Brothers get paid. Not much, but it helps. Initiates and Acolytes do not get paid."

"Bah."

Rent laughed and returned to examining an odd looking recurved camp knife. Rancher was across the little storefront, talking quietly with a man behind the counter. Whatever business they had was suddenly concluded as Rancher reached over and shook the other man's hand. Rancher withdrew a bag of coins from his pack and placed it on the counter. They followed him as he left, curious camp knife unpurchased.

In the back of the wagon, nestled amidst all the goods, Harding opened 'Blade' and skipped all the way to the back where he hungrily paged through the seed compendium several times before finding his seed.

The reason it took effort was annoying. The Kasagosian monks didn't call it leech, they called it lesser vampirism. They also didn't call them godseeds, instead they were ‘divine allowances’ which somehow got shortened to pacts.

Why can't anything be universal!

As Harding bounced along in the back of the buckboard, he told the other two, "The Kasagonian monks call godseeds 'divine allowances'."

"Yes," confirmed Rent. "They are nearer to the concepts of Phiris’ Constructionists on that idea, but not in terminology. You'll find that though, a certain bleed over between adjacent colors. Just like Abathalian and Okkor monks focus on currents. Heh, Addionese too, if you count energy as waves."

Harding continued to read and left Rent chuckling to himself. He merely skimmed the text for now, skipping any expose on meaning or wisdom hidden within vampirism as a religious practice. He was focused on how to actually use it.

> Lesser Vampirism within the Heart summons within oneself the spirit of this wisdom, that his Glory may enter the flesh and feast upon it in accordance to his Will. While bringing the Blessing of Fatigue, this spirit Consumes the growth of Ailments of the Weakness of Flesh, but gloriously does not cure them. It may be layered thrice, increasing both Blessing and Consumption. As this spirit gorges, it will generate a feeling of minor discomfort for the host.

Later in the text:

> Upon unsummoning these spirits, it returns its blessed Bounty to the Heart and, thereby, disengorges his Blessing within the host.

Harding blessed the riders with, "Huh."

"Kasagonian writing is as putrid as their beliefs," Rent commiserated.

"Listen to this," suggested Harding, then read the entry out loud to them.

Rent translated, "So it is not a movement ability at all, but a boon that consumes the propagation of negative effects."

"You make as much sense as this book," Harding accused.

Rancher chuckled.

"It's simple really, if you're bleeding and you summon it, you stop bleeding but you're still cut. You unsummoning it, it returns spirit energy it generated by consuming your blood back to the Heart gate."

"It doesn't say if the bleeding comes back after though," Harding pointed out.

"That's easy enough to figure out.”

Harding didn't find much enthusiasm in himself for that kind of testing. He did wonder how this particular book was at the bookstore, or even if it was.

Maybe it just spawned what I needed when the clerk went in the back.

By the time they'd arrived back at the ranch, Harding had read the full entry for lesser vampire three times, and then had turned to the front of the book to start reading their theory and doctrine. When the buckboard pulled up though he had to stop and help unload the supplies into the barn and house.

After quickly taking care of the animals and putting the equipment away, Harding was told he was free to do as he pleased until dinner, but that the two of them would be busy.

Harding went back to the bunk house and kept reading. The Kasagosian text was difficult to work through and made a lot of references to concepts and forces that Harding couldn't readily understand. Giving up for now, he headed out of the cabin in search of Rent with a head full of questions.

Instead, he saw Rancher and Rent both kneeling at a tree, fifty yards from everything. In front of them, Rent's purchased flower laid on the ground. Harding realized he didn't come close to understanding the relationship of the two.