By that day's evening meal a lot had changed in Harding's life. The simplest was that he found out that part of what he had been doing as spirit meditation was actually a restorative practice. Energizing the passageways of the spirit body with focus on structure helped activate its natural restoration to the genetic ideal. His focus had been on discovery, but the exercise utilized visualization of the ideal as a guide to the reformation and perfection. What Harding realized he understood, but didn't know, was that there was a subsystem beyond the channel. Pathways of energy sprouting from each gate. He simply had to solidify his understanding, then reinforce it with his mind.

The second change was that instead of returning to Gremuth and traveling with the Eights to the Expo, he would stay with House Garnet once more. A large change in action, if a comfortable and friendly one. It meant he would miss out on returning to his friends and his meetings with Gregor, but instead live in quiet luxury with a relaxed cycle schedule.

There was a subtle complexity to it though that challenged him. He was unsure what to think of Jarred and Jasika being auxiliary instructors. He saw them as friends to some extent and to suddenly have a hierarchy bothered him for the night. The next morning though, Brother Rent pointed out that while he was friendly with the family, they could also have him jailed and tried with a casual command. There already was a greater hierarchy, one he blatantly ignored.

Harding was just being blind to reality.

The trio studied spirit body restoration in both acute therapy and regular maintenance methods. They worked with alchemical medicines and directed restoration. They, collectively, watched Jarred’s condition slowly improve as a class project. Strangely, the hole in Harding's spirit did not close, but he had kept that issue from Rent and he kept secret the lack of repair too.

He couldn't explain why, so he avoided the internal topic of his avoidance. Something that applied to outside of Life too. His time in game had reduced and stabilized, but he was still sleeping under the augmented dreams of the system.

Part of his training included teaching the Garnets. With Jasika in particular, Harding practiced spirit domination as well as taught it. He became so proficient with it, that a quick nudge was barely different in effort than flicking a finger. The one thing he feared he lacked was true, vicious intent.

With Jarred he learned proper etiquette. Harding groaned about how propriety was mostly just him not talking. In actuality, Harding found the lessons eye opening in terms of what had to be accounted for in behavior. More important though was learning how houses and villages operated, who was in charge of what and under what structure of authority they operated. Despite each being somewhat unique, the system of power and how to get things done was fairly consistent.

Brother Rent instructed Harding in combat, using Jarred as a sparring opponent. They both learned from Rent, though Jarred was far more advanced. Occasionally, Rent would spar with Jasika and make suggestions to her, but he was careful to make Stocke a part of it to avoid any friction.

To force him to learn, Harding was made to teach his own techniques on spirit body manipulation and attacks. The group worked on improving the concepts and made some headway, though the increase of efficacy and effect was relatively minor.

If anything the greatest benefit was clarifying in his mind how the system functioned.

Every night after dinner they studied their own topics, Stocke included, then shared what they'd learned before spending a half hour meditating together. After that was social time until they went to bed.

Overall, Harding's combat ability advanced. Jarred was mostly healed. Jasika got her experience being attacked and distracted in combat. And they all learned a bit about the spirit body.

Harding did feel like he had lost opportunities by not wandering, but he knew he learned a lot more by spending the time concentrated on training. Some things cannot be learned from a book. Or, through training.

After a little less than four weeks, it came time to travel to the Combat & Arms Expo. The House traveled back to Gremuth by portal, where they spent two days meeting friends, gathering last minute provisions and coordinating with the remaining Eights force in the city.

The majority of the Big Three had already packed up the soulnet, which shut down all but the vendor section of the Grinder. A load of wagons had carried it, and the majority of the future camp, to the location a week earlier. It was accompanied by a virtual army, who now lived and practiced there. Harding wondered how nervous the rulers had been with such a force traveling through their territories.

The first afternoon in Gremuth, Harding set off on a little adventure in town. Jarred wanted to go too, but was required by his father to be part of the coordination with the Eights. As far as Harding understood it, there was one more procession of guild people headed out and some of House Garnet was going to travel with them. Harding didn't understand why, but it wasn't his concern.

"I will attend you," declared Jasika. Despite their increasing familiarity, they never did something without Jarred. Stocke looked as shocked as Harding was.

"That would be a pleasure, Lady Jasika," Harding responded with a bow.

Jasika stuck out her arm as she often did with her brother, indicating Harding should take it. He did, and though he had wrestled with, fought and mediated with her, it still felt awkward to be close and in contact.

She seemed to ignore it, as usual.

They had taken a few steps forward when Jasika stopped. Harding stopped with her, looking down at her.

"Instructor Stocke, you'll remain here."

Jarred laughed in the background.

"But, Lady Jasika, your safety is-”

"I'm perfectly fine. You are my brother's instructor too for the time being, see to it that he is ready for the journey. We both know he's not."

Jarred protested, "Hey, I'm ready, mostly."

"The duchess-”

"I will not repeat myself. If you wish to concern mother in this, you should go and report to her."

Jasika started walking again, Harding quick to match her shortened gait. By the time they got to the gate though, Harding was leading and she was following without Harding realizing when the roles had changed.

They walked across the bridge in silence, as was her way. Only when they got to the main city did she ask, "Where are we going?"

"Oh, all over I guess, but let's head to Old Market first. I need to check in with the Guard association. Apparently, Jarred got around to notifying them I completed my assignment."

"That was months ago."

"Yeah, well… Jarred."

They strolled together, in the early day sun, and chatted idly about CombO. They shared knowledge on who was going to be there and rumors about important people who weren't. Jasika talked of things she wanted to see, do, and explore. It wasn't just a tournament, a lot of known and upcoming craftsmen would be there. Which included some of the leading alchemists and inventors. Noble Houses from across the empire, guilds, and even royalty would also be in attendance.

Jasika had no interest in the entertainers.

Harding eventually pointed out, "No one's really said who from House Garnet is competing, just that your family is attending."

Jasika evidenced a scowl before the reaction was covered up, "There's a disagreement on that. We have enough people back to have a team, but none are competing individually."

"How is it that no one is doing the individual brackets?"

"That's the disagreement,” she wryly elucidated. “I want to fight. None of our men are, so there is no internal conflict."

Harding could already imagine the rest of it.

Jasika pulled her hand free of his arm and started gesticulating as she spoke, one hand and then the other separating the sides. "Father said it was ok, but mother said no. Father says it's good to show House power. Mother says if I lose to another House or I am… disrespected… in the arena, that will cause political issues greater than showing strength."

"That's tough."

"And registration is closed, except for the open bracket. To fight, I would have to start in the qualifying bracket.”

Harding frowned to himself, “The nobles get a pass into the ranked fights?”

"It sounds unfair,” she admitted, “but I've been privately trained all my life. I was a pure by age seven. Would it be fair to others in the open bracket to face me?”

Harding scratched his cheek, rubbing the old scars. "I guess not, there's a- I don't know, lower bracket for them?”

Jasika affirmed curtly, focused on the walk to avoid a loose stone. The wear on the city caused by the surge in population from going live was noticeable.

“So currently House Garnet isn't represented in the individual competition?"

"Not unless I can change mother's mind. What about you?"

"Me," asked Harding incredulously. "I'd get humiliated."

"You'd make it farther than you think. Maybe even a good little run if you're lucky. The big guilds, associations and houses are already seated."

Harding felt shame and indignation at the insinuation that he would do well only among the inexperienced. However, she was being realistic. As sharp as Jasika could be, as detached and superior as she acted, she did not bully. Even that was beneath her.

"I'll think about it…"

He figured he had lied. He already knew he wouldn't and doubted anything could change his mind. They spoke of little things until they entered the trade hall. Harding walked up to the desk, dealt with the paperwork and got paid one-crown-four for the job.

As they left, Jasika asked, "That's what you got for a days work for Jarred?"

"And the night with Rhett."

She wrinkled her nose but made no further comment. It always shocked Harding how much the Garnet kids didn't understand the world for all their teachings. It wasn't until they were outside again before she stopped. She looked up at him with a strange curiosity, "And what were you paid for the rest of it?"

"Paid?” Harding thought a moment, about his struggles with money and gear. How there was such great inertia to getting started he didn't see how Life would make it. Everyone wanted to be competent and rewarded. In Life you were nothing until you proved it.

“I got experiences I wouldn't have otherwise. Associations, learning, friendships too. With good people like you…"

Jasika looked up at him, her face in conflict. He could see her struggling with something even though her face was emotionless, her eyes betrayed. And then, from behind Harding, an all too familiar voice said, "You certainly do have the nose for it, Miss Bluejay."

Harding turned, shifting partially in front of Jasika, reflexively protective. There, before him, stood Ricasso and Bluejay.

"No, no madame, I am not commenting on the proportions of your nose," exclaimed an exasperated Ricasso. "My meaning is that you are most adept at being aware of presences."

Bluejay smirked and turned to look at Harding. She looked him up and down, then eyed Jasika.

"I do not know her either," agreed Ricasso. "Harding, be a gentleman and introduce us to your young companion."

"Look, ah," Harding fumbled for a polite way to address them collectively, "Fair folk. I don't know what our connection is, but she decidedly is not a part of it."

Bluejay sniffed. Ricasso told her, "Yes, I agree. Strange company indeed for your little monk."

Bluejay stepped forward and jabbed a finger into Harding's sternum while making an "ahh" sound. It sounded like the dying moments of a woman with her throat slit.

"Miss Bluejay would remind you,” Ricasso explained crisply, “that she claims you."

Harding protested, "Ho-"

Jasika slipped around him, brushing away Bluejays finger, and stood with her back pressed to Harding. She glared up at Bluejay, the two locked in each other's eyes. In her firm, albeit little, voice, she addressed Bluejay, "I am Lady Garnet. He is in my attendance. You had best leave."

Bluejay looked down at Jasika, a slight expression of distaste, then back at Harding. She wore her displeasure plainly. Ricasso opened his mouth, closed it, opened and closed it, then said, "Forgive me Lady Garnet, I am but the conduit. Harding, Miss Bluejay wishes you to know that she doesn't care about your inadvisable romances, she claims you."

Harding acted out of instinct, putting a hand over Jasika's mouth and another around her waist. The grab was just in time as he felt Jasika start forward with violence. What he had done froze her in shock. Harding slid his spirit body over Jasika in spirit domination, but pushed emotional calmness. He had no idea of it would work and hadn't ever thought about it, it was instinct. All he wanted was to avoid Jasika being hurt. Somehow, to Harding's surprise, she remained still and pressed hard to him.

Bluejay cocked her head to the side in a very birdlike motion and watched him with interest. "I do not know," responded Ricasso. "As far as I'm aware, he's not, but yes I saw it too."

Harding didn't care. "Miss Bluejay, I mean no disrespect. However, I know Okkor claimed me. I study as an acolyte in his temple. If there is an issue with claim, then that is an issue with him. I don't have a choice in the matter."

Bluejay laughed, a ghastly hollow sound.

Ricasso relayed, "Choice is an illusion hiding an illusion."

"What?"

"Her words, not mine. Direct quote," Ricasso shrugged and actually looked a little apologetic. These two left Harding feeling as though he was drowning in weirdness.

"Ok,” he agreed noncommittally. “I'm going to turn around and the Lady and I will be in our way. I wish you both a good day."

Bluejay thrust her chin as if to motion him away, then stood watching with a slight scowl. Harding took his hand from Jasika's mouth, and gently swung her around with him, escorting her away from danger. As they walked away he heard Ricasso speak to Bluejay, "It is a development. Perhaps the price has been increased?"

Harding just kept walking, firmly gripping Jasika's far shoulder. They walked stiffly and in silence through the remainder of New Market and further until they came to the bookstore he had wanted to visit.

Inside, Harding nodded to the clerk and moved into a back section on philosophy. A topic usually reserved for the darker and emptier places in a bookstore. Still a moment longer, then Jasika rounded on him suddenly and stared up angrily.

"Don't you ever do that again."

"I'm sorry, but-”

"Don't you ever do that again."

"Alright."

She turned her back to him, but kept so close Harding could feel her presence. She remained still and silent. Unsure what to do, Harding kept on task looking for what he had set out for all along. He read the titles of the first shelf, then the second. He couldn't read the lower shelves past Jasika, and was unsure what to do with her staying in front of him. He was about to give up when she said in a whisper, "Unless I say to."

Harding smiled a little, thinking maybe he was out of trouble. "Yes, Lady Jasika." He waited but nothing changed. Eventually he softly commented, "I need to read the lower shelves."

"Ok," she said, and stepped away. He crouched, peering at the dusty spines. "Would you like to help?"

"Sure,” she got down on her knees and sat on her feet, keeping her dress about her. After a moment she inquired, "What are we looking for?"

"That's the hard part,” Harding explained. “I'm not sure. I'm looking for information on something called principles. They're some kind of natural force or being?”

Jasika eyed him in askance and he mouthed, “Yhavat.”

They scanned book titles in silence, occasionally pulling a book to investigate one with either promise or obfuscated purpose. Harding found nothing on the first bookshelf. He rocked back onto his feet about to stand up.

"Who were they," asked Jasika.

"Hmm? Oh. I don't know.” He explained, “My first night in Gremuth, they killed my friend and I think she was going to kill me too, but they were interrupted. Ever since then they keep showing up, playing their weird games."

"I'd kill her."

"When she killed my friend, she ate his tongue."

"Eew."

"I don't think they're human. I've seen enough archons fight that I know they’re similar, but not that. Something else, something other. At least she is, all he seems to do is talk for her."

"I'd still melt her like a cheap candle," growled Jasika quietly.

"Can I help you?"

Both of them looked up to see the clerk standing there, watching them sit and whisper. Harding bit back a chuckle and asked, "Yeah, I'm looking for a book on a topic, but I don't know the right book to look for."

"I see. What is the topic of concern?"

"The Principles?"

"Economics are three rows over."

"I mean forces of nature, the principles of energy and nature, not market investments."

"Ah, homophones, right. That's… hmm. Let me check with the owner."

The clerk disappeared and Jasika giggled. It didn't seem like a sound she would make.

"What," he asked.

She settled to sit aside her legs. "Is this what regular life is like? All I do is train and be proper. I have no friends, except Jarred and, I guess… you. I don't go to the socials anymore. I do the same thing every day over and over. Everything regimented, controlled and isolated."

Harding didn't respond. He just remained crouched, listening.

Jasika looked at him earnestly and confessed, "I got sick of it so I changed things. Started thinking about what else there might be. Now I feel so… off balanced. It's terrifying. I have no idea what will happen next. I feel hyper and anxious. I want to run home and yet I want to not go home again. What happens next?"

Harding stood up and stretched his back. "Probably, the clerk will come back and tell us he didn't have anything."

Jasika hid her smile with a scowl, "That's not what I meant at all, and you know it."

The returning clerk interrupted, "The owner says what you're looking for is a topic that is considered heretical by the church. No book store will carry such."

Harding looked at Jasika. "See, I told you didn't I? I said 'Benedict has lost his mind, what he's arguing is crazy.' And here we are, there aren't any books on the idea because there's no foundation to the idea."

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Jasika stared, confused. Harding offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet when she took it. "Thank you so much for your help," he told the clerk cheerfully and walked Jasika out to the street.

From there, he gave up his other plans and set off for Green Hills. After a bit of waking, Harding explained to Jasika, "I didn't want to risk them knowing who you were and gossiping about heresy."

"Protecting me, again."

"Protecting both of us."

"You wouldn't even slow me in a fight."

"True. But you can't lightning every situation."

"Bet I can…"

"Politics?"

"Lightning."

"Finances?"

"Lightning."

"Romance?"

"Extra lightning."

"Well, I have to admire your commitment and consistency," Harding stated in jokingly seriousness.

Jasika smiled and asked, "Are we going home?"

"Yeah."

She held out her arm to be held again, and they walked back to the estate.

They left Green Hills midmorning, a small wagon train of House guard and supplies. While the blades were plentiful and eager, the goods being brought seemed too few. Harding trusted that Lieutenant Green knew what he was doing though as the House had been a part of war campaigns. Surely, they could visit a faire.

Instead of traversing the exterior district gate, they turned inward and crossed the bridge to Gremuth proper. There, a collection of Big Three stragglers met them and joined the procession. By noon they found themselves at the Bresham portal.

A unit of blades, supply wagons and several portal mages went when their destination lit up in the portal runes. That left the rest to sit around waiting for their destination to be active again.

"Where are we going again," Harding asked Jarred. The young noble sat across from him in the carriage, along with Rent. Jasika sat next to him, Stocke on the other side of her.

"The Combat and Arms Exposition…"

Rent chuckled. Rent and Jarred got along great as they shared the same sense of humor.

"Yes, but where…"

"Gatton Heights."

"Yes, but where is that."

"Oh, it was an old pre-Empire castle. It was sacked and all but razed during the Unification Wars. The town too, actually. Now it is just an unimportant ruin without strategic value to justify reclaiming it."

Harding looked to Rent for help.

"Gatton Heights is in the kingdom of Capris, it's a good way west, about two and a half kingdoms over."

"A half Kingdom," Jarred questioned. He clearly knew the geography, Harding presumed he was questioning Rent's terminology.

"It's south of Pardis, but not fully past it."

"I take your meaning then."

Harding gave up.

Buy more maps.

The group sat for a while longer, Harding watching the painfully slow progression of the automatic portal circle. He had a newfound appreciation on just how limiting it actually was despite being free and instantaneous travel.

The chat was light and lighthearted, mostly Rent and Jarred talking about side events and shopping desires. Jasika unsnapped her travel tome and started reading. Harding watched her. Stocke watched him. Eventually he asked what he was thinking, “Is that… helping?”

“Hmm? Oh. Not on the reason it was given, but I am starting to think it might have been an object lesson?” Jasika started a shrug, but released it. “There is no way to know this, no matter how much I absorb.”

“But you keep reading.”

“I do.”

Rent and Jarred were watching now.

“Even though you get nothing.”

“It is not nothing. It just happens to be not what I was looking for.”

“And you keep hoping it will be?”

“I… accept that it is what it is. I am still exercising my mind. And it has value besides knowledge, the tome increases authority.”

Harding's eye twitched.

“And authority is?”

Jasika, unsurprised, handed the topic off to Rent.

“Authority is the weight of the Will-”

Harding had stopped him with a raised hand.

“She brought it up,” he pointed out. “Let her explain it.”

Jasika hid a smile. “It is what determines the power of a person, spell or ability. A burn seed can consume curses, but only with adequate authority. It's what gauges which spell wins out.”

Harding rubbed the back of his thumb against the bridge of his nose. Yet another mechanic he didn't know. Though it made sense. If he boosted leech what would happen? It didn't generate more leeches, so it had to do something else. He suspected he now knew. Harding suspected greater authority would probably relate to the severity of wounds the leeches could handle too. Testing that though didn't seem inviting. He admitted, “Ok. I think I get it.”

With some time still left before the portal worked itself around again to their destination, Rent had them get out and meditate on the nature of spirit. He challenged them to put emphasis on awareness of how spirit behaved differently near portals.

Rent wandered off, leaving Stocke to watch over the students, and went to talk to the Garnets in the other carriage. Rent was correct though, it did behave differently here. Harding had previously noted that the energy slowly drained towards the portal, then burst like a geyser up into the air when it activated. Harding focused on the nature of it, how it seemingly chose its behavior.

It didn't feel random.

On the surface, the portal was just a sink of energy that had a violent reaction when it filled and activated. However, the energy that burst out was not the same that went in. To Harding, it had a subtly different taste, like how one cut of meat tastes different than another even though they're the same animal.

‘Why do you go up, instead of out?’

It is my nature.

Harding started. He looked around, but found no source. Jasika and Jarred sat shoulder to shoulder, cross-legged on the blanket. Their eyes were closed.

'Do you wish to fly?'

There was no response.

Harding took a massive, deep spirit breath and shot the entire thing up into the air, using the throat gate in a silent, gargling song. He couldn't be sure, but he swore he heard childlike laughter.

"What was that," asked Jarred quietly. Jasika shushed him.

"Life is vibrant, if you must meditate in silence then you are not living it," Jarred playfully quoted Rent at her. Jasika kept her eyes closed, but stuck out her tongue at her brother for a moment in retort.

The next time the portal geysered, Harding did it again at the same moment. The transition after, Jarred joined him. On the next one, all three joined in.

"Did you guys hear a giggle," asked Jasika.

Neither of the boys had. Jarred looked around, a collection of loitering blades and wagoneers surrounded them. There were no children in sight. No one seemed aware of anything unusual.

He tested, "No. Why?"

"Nevermind," she whispered.

The portal began the signaling process for their destination. The porters stood by individual loads, still leaving behind a pile of goods with guards resting around it. All the guilders lined up though, along with the Garnets and a small force of blades. Harding had learned it was frowned upon to take a carriage through, especially in the day. They were leaving them behind, to be driven back to the estate. The portal could handle it, but it was just too inefficient of usage for the limited portal circle.

Harding had traveled by portal circle several times now, but there was a new anticipation to this. Rent came back and addressed the group, “On the other side will be two sets of portal stanchions, you'll take the red flagged one."

They signaled they understood and went back to waiting. Harding had wanted to ask, but instead remained silent. Now wasn't the time, and for the first time he hesitated to tell Rent his experience and it weighed heavily on Harding.

He waited, silent.

When the portal flashed and the income travelers cleared, some slow from gawking at the crowd gathered, everyone piled into the circle. Dignity and decorum have little meaning when packing a circle. The majority fit, but another cycle would be needed to get the remnant supplies and guards. Harding realized that the previous round of porters would arrive as they left for those goods.

There was no voice.

Instead, they arrived without the existence of travel or commentary. Harding dropped to one knee and gave thanks silently. He wasn't sure if he was losing his mind. Some subtle flicker of reality acknowledged him, but if that was the system of his own madness he could not tell. Yet there was something. Something new, something different, something not spirit.

Maybe Joshua is going mad.

Am I still Joshua?

Harding caved to the demands of simulated reality and chose etiquette over introspection. He left the circle as the crowd was marshaled along to the red-flagged stanchions. A ways away was a striped green flag set, marking a portal to some unknown destination.

Not for me.

Coming out of the portal, there was a gap of open space barely fifty feet. Several attendant blades stood around as the travelers were marched forward into a new set of portal stanchions. Several other sets of stanchions existed, each with walkways marked towards the new portal. He followed the flow.

Harding emerged on the other side. Due to the quick succession of jumps, he could easily compare the subtle feelings of each. They both moved you, but they felt different. The cast portal was a slower transference, if only by a second. It tasted different to him too.

Lemon and lime.

He couldn't complete the inspection. Walking forward immediately was highly recommended after exiting a portal, so Harding kept moving into an overwhelming view. Around him were tents. They weren't little field tents or even the larger ones used on campaigns, these were massive. Each several times bigger than the bunkhouse he'd stayed in. Some of them were vermilion with carmine trim and flags fluttering. There was a great twin row of them, encircling a small yard. The ground was uneven and a bit rocky, but cleared of any loose stones.

The wind swirled above, cool air occasionally curling down, but the press of tents sheltered him from the touch of unfettered wind. Most impressive though, were the tall mountains surrounding the northern half of the view. The southern half was obscured by tents, not even trees could be seen. To the east and a little north, a stone tower and the tops of a wall hung above the tents.

Someone bumped into Harding from behind, nearly knocking him down. He turned to see Rent wearing a face of faux innocence. "Sorry, didn't see you standing there in the middle of portal traffic."

"Pfft."

Moments later the two monks were guided by camp staff to where they would be staying. They ditched their gear in that tent. Before they settled, Rent announced, "I've got to go to the Brotherhood presence, check us in and do some politicking.”

“Like what, a traveling temple?”

Rent grunted, face sour.

“There's that many Okkor monks here?”

“Non-denominational.”

Harding scowled too.

He actually wanted to talk to a Reductionist. On the other hand, it sounded like a bunch of organizational nonsense by a bunch of NPCs.

Rent helped, “You could come along, but you don't need to. Not yet, at least. It might be good for you to be seen, but you'll end up standing around silently for hours."

"Sounds delightful."

"You could go find a spot out of the way and do your training. Just because we are at the biggest fair to have ever existed doesn't mean you don't train."

Harding wanted to argue it, but he couldn't. He took every opportunity he had to push his Spiritualism further ahead. He was definitely becoming aware that despite his protestations, his quiet and solitary life was of his own making.

Life saw and adjusted.

Rent misinterpreted his pause, mistakenly consoling him, "The expo isn't officially open to the public until tomorrow. I'm sure the Garnets will be busy with their noble duties. Go do it now so you can be a nuisance to everyone later."

I'm glad the AI can misunderstand too.

Hang frowned at his thoughts but then nodded to Rent. "I will meditate on your positivity," Harding promised and ducked out of the tent quickly. Something soft hit the flap behind him and he smiled to himself as he walked out of the Garnet camp. Harding savored Rent's ire.

There was an entire row of cordoned off mobile house camps, each a mass of massive tents. As he traveled the row further he realized each group of noble houses was organized by kingdom.

Are there any nobles not here?

Past the noble row, he discovered why he had seen only the horizon beyond the tent tops. The road turned and dropped in a switchback down the hillside. Before him sprawled a city of tents. It looked big against the backdrop, but he reasoned it was probably about the size of a city district. In their midst stood a ruined stadium shackled with new lumber. A monstrous amalgamation of scorched stone, fresh paint and new lumber.

It was impressive. A small city propped up on poles. Markets, sanitation to a degree and even a sort of suburban campground for competitors, workers and spectators. The degree of construction and even city planning suggested to Harding there may be efforts to construct a permanent city.

Or, reconstruct.

To the west of the tent city, the ground was a field of jagged stone teeth. The bones of what had once been a modest town. The site of the horrors of war, a grave to the pre-empirical past. Even knowing its artificial origins, it left Harding with unease.

Looking back up the switchback, he saw that to the west of the noble encampment was a castle. Unlike the other castles he had seen so far, this one had huge walls that nearly obscured the small structures within. It looked more of a building of war than a protected place of power. The walls in several places were torn down into piles of rubble. Its skeleton still bore the trauma of fire and war.

The only other thing of note was a long section on the east of the coliseum of open ground lined with bleachers. Harding could only presume these were for other events that he didn't know.

I know there's some archery, maybe some jousting too?

While he had said he would train, he decided a bite to eat wouldn't hurt first. He walked into the first CombO market he could find with his nobility pass around his neck. Everywhere were vendors, from tinsmiths to alchemists, picklemongers to brewers. Great sections of tables and benches lined the way, crude and hasty in construction and placement. The crowd was constant and moving, but nowhere near capacity. Harding imagined that in the peak times the press would be near immobile.

Harding looked for food, dodging street performers and overflowing crowds of random stages. He found a vendor selling rarebit and sausage links and went to buy some. The discovery that the food was free due to his pass was appreciated, though he noted the number from his id was written down. Harding was too embarrassed to ask if it would be charged to the Garnets and instead vowed to himself to keep his purchases light. He also discovered that you needed your own plate. The vendor happily added a charge for the tin plate and suddenly the prevalence of tinsmiths in the market made much more sense.

Instead of eating it there within the crowd, he walked out of the city and back up to the castle ruins. Castles were always interesting to him and so far he'd not been allowed into one, let alone been free to explore. Surely there would be a grand spot to sit, eat and meditate.

There was no one in sight on the approach, but he found a small group had set up a picnic at its gates. Harding avoided them and entered through a collapsed portion of the wall, then wandered the outer ward. Up a staircase he went, high up to the top of the walls. The wall towers were open and the sun came in making them sheltered and warmer. He set down his food and went to the other side to peer over the wall. It was a sheer fall for hundreds of feet, the wall giving way to the cliff face. Far below, a small mountain stream that was deeply cut into the stone lazily trickled between the drop and the village remains. Beyond that the land was flatter and green. It was picturesque if he didn't look at the tent city.

When Harding came back to the tower a small figure sat on a fallen stone, eating from his plate. Peeved, he asked, "Hello?"

The figure looked up. It was plain and thin. Long, black hair and big, dark eyes, but ambiguous in gender. Odd enough looking that Harding wondered if it was malnourished.

It finished its bite of sausage while watching him.

Harding looked at his plate. Half the food was missing. "That was my food!"

"Tax," it said, quiet but firm.

"You're a thief."

"Am not."

"You're eating my food."

"Was your food, but you owed. I helped you pay. I did the tax for you."

"You took it, you're a thief."

"I didn't run away."

"What difference does that make?"

"If you take with a knife out and then run away, you're a bandit. If you take with the knife hidden and then eat it in front of them, you're a government."

"So you're a government?"

"Yep."

"Which?"

"Kingdom of Mika."

"Where's that?"

"Here."

"So you own this land?"

"Yep."

"For how long?"

"Maybe an hour?"

Despite its bold, if confused, answers, its posture seemed to be waiting for reprisal. Strange, bold, small and scared. Its clothes were clean but threadbare. Harding felt a mix of emotions that he couldn't define looking at it while it nervously kept trying to eat.

"It's fine."

Harding sat down and ate his half, sharing the meager meal with it. The sausage was still a little warm, pleasant and fatty but a little mild in spice. The rarebit would have been good, but the bread hadn’t picked up a little moisture as it cooled and the cheese had fully congealed. That was really his fault and had nothing to do with his visitor. He pulled out his waterskin and drank.

It watched him.

Harding sighed, then held out the waterskin. "Tax," it asked.

"Tax," Harding agreed.

As it gulped down his water, Harding asked, "Are you Mika?"

It nodded, not relinquishing its oral grip on the nozzle.

"How'd you come here?"

It pulled away and said, "I followed. Everyone comes here now. Where people go, there is opportunity."

"For a Kingdom?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you worried others might be upset by that? I don't know, declare war or something."

"They do, then I fight. Or, I run. Sometimes, I just get hurt."

It shrugged at him, sadness dwelling in its eyes.

"Why are you up here?"

"I don't have a tent and I'm no whore. No blankets yet, but I'll make a home."

"Castles are cold though, I suspect night will be cold."

"It is, but I tell Ka to be warm and Ka is."

Harding blinked, trying to process its reasoning, "Enduring cold isn't the same as being warm. You get cold enough and you'll die."

"Died before," Mika shrugged with false indifference. "But Ka gets warm when I tell Ka too. Then Mika is fine. Just takes El to let Ka be."

"Ok," Harding said, realizing he couldn't really do anything about any of this insanity. It held a certain tension in its body. It took Handing a few moments to realize it was expecting violence. Harding had seen poverty in game, even abuse. Now he was witnessing mental affliction. Life didn't ignore, it just didn't shelter either. He offered in peace, "I was going to do my practicing here, is it ok since I paid the tax?"

Mika nodded firmly, the decree of a fresh sovereign.

Harding turned partially away and tried to clear his mind. Mika was clearly unpredictable and maybe entirely mad, yet he didn't feel threatened. Next time, he decided, he would bring blankets. The wind passed by, murmuring as it flowed through the arrow slits and between the merlons. He let go of his body, withdrawing his awareness into his spirit and joined the flow.

Okkor is the concept of flow, not the water itself.

When Harding came out of his meditation on spirit, Mika was sitting next to him, mimicking him. It was a little concerning that he hadn't heard Mika move, nor felt its spirit against his. But the feeling he got was still one of strangeness and not of danger. He carefully stood up, moved a bit away and began the kinetic meditations of Rancher's bird-styles.

Mika watched, but Harding ignored it. His teachers, Rancher especially, would tell him that if he could be disrupted by an observer then he was failing. Still, he was very aware of its intense gaze. To overcome the feeling, he pushed his awareness further down into his spirit body. As Harding moved, he could feel his spirit body breathe. The energy flowed as his body did, both directly through him and circulating around within him. As he pressed deeper, he started to realize something that had always been self-evident.

His spirit body was separate from his physical body. The rudimentary teaching he had been given was that the two joined at the Heart gate. But he now suspected that the three body model was incomplete. He thought it was a probability that intermediate bodies existed that handled transfer. Probably with some slight spatial overlap, but the connection was possibly even more.

Harding couldn't find the edges.

He could touch the physical world with his physical body and the spirit world with his spirit body. He could not touch his spirit body with his physical body. Yet, in some way he did not fully grasp, spirit could touch the physical. This implied something unclear to him, but which spawned a thought be it epiphany or error.

Physical should be able to touch Spirit.

"Your Ka speaks, but you do not listen."

Harding turned and looked at Mika. It sat there, a large eyed innocent without exhibited guile. Or, with such deviousness as to appear the opposite. He wasn't sure yet.

"You're Ka."

"No, Ka is Ka. Mi has Ka. You have Ka."

"Mi? Me?

It put its index finger to its bone-thin chest. "Mi Ka El."

"Mikael?"

"Yes."

Harding out his finger to his chest. "Harding."

"No. Mikael."

Harding pointed at it. "Mi Ka El"

It nodded.

Harding put his finger to his chest, "Mi Ka El?"

It nodded.

"My name is Harding."

"Yes. You are Harding. Harding is of Mi Ka El. Harding is not Mi Ka El."

“So what's your name?"

"Sam."

"What happened to Mika?"

Sam rolled is eyes. "I am made of Mi, Ka, and El. I am Mi Ka. I am Ka El. I am Mi El. Sam is made of Mi Ka El."

It hurt Harding's brain and attempting to untangle it left him unsure in thought. He reached out with spirit and touched Sam. "Ka?"

Sam rolled it's eyes. "El," Sam said with exasperation. "Don't know why he wants you, you're a little slow. "

"Who?"

Sam laughed, "Who? Him. He stands next to you."

Harding turned and saw no one, sensed nothing in spirit. When he turned back he saw that Sam had started spinning counterclockwise while singing in a language he had never heard. After three rotations, Sam fell into a seating position and was motionless.

Things were getting a little too weird for Harding. The whole thing cut too close. Entirely to close, both to his contemplation of the bodies and his concerns about his own sanity. Sheltering his sleep in Life, hearing voices that weren't there and strange beings that babbled madness. Beneath that surface simmered some pool of rotting bits of self that he was ignoring.

I'm hiding here.

But Harding couldn't hide in the castle, it no longer defended its people. It had fallen and failed, them then and him now.

“Ah, you gonna be around for a while?”

Sam smiled softly, “Always I am, except when I am not.”

Harding nodded, as if such a thing were expected. He paused, feeling awkward. He hadn't finished all of his meditations and had more to experiment with, yet he felt a great urge to leave. He offered in parting, “I need to get back to my duties. It was a pleasure to meet you Sam.”

“Again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, to do something already done.”

It looked at him with an expression bordering on pity. This thing, homeless and thieving food, this creature both human and twisted, pitied him.

“Again, then,” agreed Harding. Sam just eyed him, head tilted slightly down before shaking it gently. Harding didn't understand, he just needed to leave. He left the tin plate, he could get a new one easier than it would be to get near to Sam again.

Harding worked hard at not looking like he was running away.

Who stands beside me?