We have such undeserved faith that the good times will continue forever. So mortals fantasize about the illusion of "eternity," deluding ourselves into thinking that the good times will last.

— Meditations, by the Red Emperor

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The days leading up to the Festival of the Hero brought about a simmering thaw to ZhiXia City. Preparations for the festivities woke the residents of ZhiXia City like a hibernating bear; slow at first, then a steady stream of activity as the last snows of Winter's Sorrow trickled away.

Cleaning came first. With the Festival just days away, the people of ZhiXia came together to sweep away the mud along the streets left in RainBringer's wake. In many respects, this could be seen as the beginning of the Festival for the residents of ZhiXia City: the grouping of adults and children coming together to set the stage for the Festival encouraged socializing and merrymaking. Children took the chance to stretch their legs, carrying buckets and pails of the mud to the city's claymakers. There, the mud from RainBringer's divine storm would be separated for clay that could be used for bricks and pottery, and the rest sent to the fields to enrich the soil in the hopes for a good harvest.

Stores and stall fronts began opening as soon as their streets became clear. The owners or their representatives stood out front, handing out samples of their food or wares to people passing by. Traditional greetings were shouted with energetic smiles, as people who hadn't yet seen each other since the beginning of Winter's Sorrow found their friends and acquaintances.

A light breeze wafted through the streets, bringing with it the smell of smoke and burning charcoal fanned into the air as stone ovens and cooking flames roared to life. Cooks drizzled vegetable oil and fats onto metal plates or cooking instruments, expertly eyeing the amount they would need before they added more ingredients.

Soon, the mixture of savory and sweet smells mingling with the hint of spices and dried herbs filled the air. One sniff brought about the scent of sizzling meats and grilled vegetables, as well as the tantalizing smell of baking bread and pastries. Another sniff and one could smell the fragrance of freshly brewed tea.

With clean streets and this bevy of wafting aromas, the residents finished up their cleaning and began looking forward to satisfying their grumbling bellies. For others, however, a new task had arisen; preparing the city itself for the Festival.

Some people began affixing decorations to each building. Many shapes and sizes could be seen, from lanterns to clouds to simple geometric shapes, but the colors were all gold, indigo, or white. People shared ladders, with those holding the base shouting encouragement as others stepped up high to pin the decorations in each place. Others, more sharp-eyed, pointed out any leftover mud or puddles to the ladder holders to prevent any unwarranted accidents. A few groups of volunteers did one final sweep of the streets, looking for these overlooked spots.

Primrose watched the residents decorate the streets of ZhiXia from her balcony in HuaLang Chamber, whiling away the time and running the occasional errand for the Chamber as she waited for the Oracle's summons. She had initially thought the Oracle would summon her the next day, but all had been quiet. Then the day after, she sought out Shurra and walked with the Northern Warrior as she hauled large bundles of elderwood to Sanctuary. There, Primrose casually asked the Priestesses if the Oracle had sent for her — perhaps the messenger had gotten lost? — but the answer had been a resounding no.

The Oracle would summon Primrose when she was needed.

And so Primrose could only spend her days helping HuaLang Chamber prepare for the Festival as well. Sanctuary's Festival in particular attracted many tourists that could afford to travel through the muddy roads of Spring's Blessings, in turn bringing a slew of rich patrons for the Chamber. With rich patrons came insatiable appetites for exotic Needs, Wants, and Desires, many recurring but all seeking to be satisfied at the Chamber.

But while the Chamber kept itself well-equipped to sate many peculiar requests, there came the occasional new patron who had had a little too much to drink. There was significant overlap between these people and those who did not understand the first rule of the Chamber: their safety was only guaranteed so long as they respected the Chamber's rules.

Primrose hadn't walked patrol since she was a Bud, and vividly remembered the first time she had confronted a rowdy patron. She was significantly more calm now as she approached the patron in front of her.

"Well, aren't you… aren't you…" the patron, clad in just a light robe, swayed at the doorway to a room, squinting at Primrose as she walked calmly up to him. "...beautiful. I think you will be a — hic — a great replacement for this terrible excuse for a Flower." He pulled a woman out from the room and thrust her towards Primrose, a whirl of torn green and yellow silk in disarray.

Primrose caught the woman, laying her down next to the wall. "Anything broken, Glay?" Primrose asked, giving her a swift examination. Gladiolus shook her head, gasping for breath in between murmuring with a hoarse voice that she was not terribly hurt. Satisfied that nothing was broken, Primrose nevertheless saw the marks on Gladiolus' neck, visible even on her dark skin. Primrose gave her a pointed look, touching her own neck in the same place. Gladiolus shook her head.

Placing a reassuring hand on Gladiolus' shoulder, Primrose straightened up and gave a small whistle as she approached the drunk patron. "Young Master, I believe you are currently drunk and have forgotten the Desire you initially requested from the Chamber. If you could perhaps take some time to rest, we have wonderful rooms for you to rest and sober up before you are given another chance to see your Desires met."

The man leaned against the doorframe, still squinting at Primrose. "Well. Your voice. Wow." He leaned forward, almost falling, pulling himself back. "Has anyone… ever… anyone ever… told you… your voice is… wow." He shook his head, closing one eye and licking his lower lip as he tried to finish the thought. "Yes. The voice. As beautiful … as you look?" His eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed with thought. "Red hair? Where have I —"

Primrose kept her voice level. "Would you perhaps prefer to stay in the room you currently have?"

It seemed as though the thought escaped the man, for he shrugged then pointed at Primrose again. "I don't think I've — hic — played with red hair before."

"I apologize, but I do not serve Desires," Primrose stepped to the side, away from the pointed finger. The finger followed her; Primrose added a hint of warning to her tone, "HuaLang Chamber would prefer you cooperate before you lose your right as a patron."

"Oh. Ohhhh." The hand flipped and the finger curled, beckoning at Primrose. "And you know I am an… an esteemed patron, do you? Well I came to be — hic — I came here… to be… satisfied, ya hear?" He jutted his chin out at Gladiolus' direction. "And she just wouldn't do. So — hic — so … so…what will it be," he belched, "huh?"

Primrose felt Dahlia sidle up to her side, her steps perfectly silent.

"The Madam summons you."

"Now?" Primrose protested; her hand had already slipped into her sash for a hilt. "Dahl, this man—"

A light twang resonated throughout the air, the vibrating hum putting the hairs on Primrose's neck on end. Dahlia raised a brow at Primrose; the patron seemed unperturbed by the sound. After a moment, Primrose dropped her hand to her side then said, "I understand."

"Hold—" the patron lurched forward with a staggered step, "This one's going to attend me, I never—"

Dahlia sidestepped the man, shoving an arm under his to pull him up. Her other hand reared with the glint of a needle before jabbing into the patron's neck. The patron struggled, "Ow. You low-born whore, what the… what…the —" before going limp in Dahlia's arm.

"Is he dead?" Primrose wouldn't understand if Madam Scarlette had called her off only to let Dahlia do the deed. The unspoken rule within the Chamber was that those who broke the rules were only allowed to live if they could serve other purposes.

"No, just having a dream. He won't remember anything tomorrow." Dahlia rolled her eyes at the patron's robe opening, exposing his manhood. She unceremoniously covered him up. "I may have shoved that a bit deeper than usual, but he laid his hands on Glay."

"I'll be fine," Gladiolus spoke up, "I only allowed him to keep his hands on me too long."

Primrose frowned. "Didn't the Madam teach you to act first and control the situation?"

Gladiolus looked down. "I didn't know if the Madam wanted to keep him alive, so I hesitated."

"He's the son of Falysos' City Lord, of course he's still useful." Dahlia hefted the snoring patron's arm onto her shoulder. "I'll tuck him back in. Oh, and Prim? Not to the nameplates, but to the Madam's study. Along the western side. Get going, get going."

"Yes yes," Primrose turned, then looked back. "Glay, do you need me to bring you to see Sunny?"

"I can make it downstairs just fine," Gladiolus smiled. "It's just the neck. Get going, before you test the Madam's patience."

"If she's in a hurry she would let us jump up the floors," Primrose murmured while nodding. "But no~ the Chamber has an image to maintain."

She could hear Gladiolus' low chuckle as they parted ways.

***

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As Primrose approached the closed door to the Madam's study, a sharp thunk swung the door ajar. A small piece of wood, affixed to the door, glinted with several needles buried deep inside.

"How many slabs of wood do you go through a month?" Primrose walked in. "That must add up."

"I limit myself to two." Madam Scarlette sat at her desk, inspecting several ledgers without looking up. A pipa, no doubt the instrument responsible for the Madam's signal earlier, was strung and mounted right behind the Madam. "Though I have made it a goal to make it only three every two months. It gives me new motivation to lower my amount of meetings."

Primrose glanced around the room before closing the door behind her. "Why not just leave it open?"

The Proprietress leaned back, her purple veil fluttering just above her nose. "I don't have the luxury to dedicate time for practice." A solitary finger brushed at the veil obscuring her eyes as she added, "I must therefore live in practice." The hand lowered onto the desk as Primrose felt the Madam's gaze on her. "Have you refamiliarized yourself with the Chamber? I hear you haven't been spending your time tending to the gardens."

A memory surfaced; amber eyes, a fiercely loyal personality, and the swiftness of a spear. Primrose relaxed her stony face, suddenly conscious of the weight of a spear-tipped dagger hidden on her body. "The gardens require a tender hand that I am not currently able to give."

"A shame. I remember how much you loved caring for the flowerbeds." The Madam's voice took on a gentle tone. "Have you been stretching?"

"Yes, but I hope that's not what you summoned me for."

The corners of Madam Scarlette's lips curled before she pointed to a letter with Sanctuary's mark on the drawer. "The one you've been waiting for."

A swift stride brought Primrose to the drawer, opening the letter to read it. She bit her lip, then looked up at the Madam expectantly, assuming she had already gone over its contents.

"You were granted permission to act on your own the first time Sanctuary summoned you. That hasn't been rescinded." Madam Scarlette tilted her head, listening to something far away. "I see our rowdy patron has dreamt of his Desires being duly satisfied."

"You are too lenient with some." Primrose complained. "Glay is relatively inexperienced with keeping herself safe."

The Madam shrugged lightly. "Gladiolus asked for this assignment, and she learned something in the safe confines of the Chamber. She's strong enough to recover and take my words to heart."

After a moment, Primrose decided to not argue. Instead she added, "I want the assignment if it comes to gelding that one."

Madam Scarlette laughed, then gestured a slight dismissal, "That day may come. But for now, your assignment is to do the Oracle's bidding while keeping the Chamber's goals in mind. Go see the Festival."

***

Outskirts of ZhiXia City

Only the very few sensitive to aura could ever detect the faint aura making up the Domain enclosing ZhiXia City. For the others that learned to See, ZhiXia City looked as though it were submerged underwater. Deep within it, Sanctuary glowed a soft white.

Rei descended from the skies, making sure to steer clear of the Whale's Domain encircling ZhiXia's outskirts. Roxxa and Desmi's aura signatures pulsed briefly in her senses and she swiftly found their encampment.

Landing near their campsite with a graceful and haughty step, Rei greeted the two. "Roxxa. Desmi."

"Rei." Roxxa nodded back. A giant Northerner with piercing blue eyes and short-cropped silver hair, Roxxa the OutCast sat taller than Rei could stand. Her light sleeveless jerkin with ash-gray fur lining the edges did nothing to hide the myriad of tattoos decorating scars running down her arms as she lifted her poleaxe again. A fluid swing split the wood into two halves, which she tossed into the campfire nearby.

The only Northerner directly serving the Empire of the Sun.

"Rei! Oh good, now that you're here we can start!" Desmi stepped forward with open arms. Contrasting with Roxxa's simple clothes for ease of movement, the Islander wore relatively thicker clothes under a hooded cloak, having only recently become accustomed to the mainland's weather in the colder seasons. The hood covering his head masked most of his thick black hair, but his dark brown face and thick jaw loomed out from underneath. Rei ducked and slipped under his arms, leaving him grasping the air.

A disapproving gust of wind knocked him off balance as Rei straightened up, pressing down upon the rear end of the harpoon strapped to the Islander's back as he tumbled forward, stopping it from hitting her thigh.

"Still have your fear of hugs, I see," grinned the only Formosan Islander currently on the continent.

"Isn't Kymja around here to see you flirting with others?" Rei stepped around Desmi's entangled legs and made for the campfire, sitting down across from Roxxa. "That being said, where is Kymja? I thought I had the furthest to travel." Looking around, Rei frowned to see no sight of any of Kymja's belongings at the site. "Has she not yet arrived?"

"Oh, don't gloat just yet, you're still the last one." Desmi sat up, wiping away dirt from his cloak. "In fact, Kymja ran off instead of waiting for you."

"What do you mean, she ran off?" Rei's eyes narrowed. "We're here to do something at Ruskru's command. Has Kymja gotten so distracted she forgot her responsibilities?"

"No, of course not; that's why she came with me," Desmi replied defensively, pushing himself up to his feet and sitting down on a nearby rock.

"If you say so," Rei looked from Desmi to Roxxa, waiting for them to point out Kymja. "Then where is she?"

Desmi swallowed. "Well, that there is the problem, isn't it —"

Roxxa interrupted, lining up another thick log. "Kymja wanted to see Sanctuary's Festival of the Hero."

Rei's mouth opened as she looked from Roxxa to Desmi, then towards ZhiXia City where the indigo dome persisted in her Sight, before turning back to her two comrades with a look of damning disbelief. "Kymja entered that?"

"Well, it might look daunting to us," Desmi admitted, "But Kymja has already entered before. How do you think she saw the Prodigy?"

"We can't follow her into that." The Domain pulsed lightly in Rei's Sight; the mere thought of touching it filled her with dread. It was as though she treaded lightly around a sleeping beast. The Whale's quiet aura carried a subtly lethal sensation; it sent a tingling sense of cold admiration down her neck. No wonder the Prince had ordered them to avoid a direct confrontation with the former Commander of the First Division. "None of us can hide like Kymja. Both of you can See that, yes?"

"Awww, is our little Rei scared?" Desmi teased her playfully, holding out an arm towards her. "You can hold my hand if it makes you feel better."

"Hold that arm straight, Desmi, I think it's a bit too long for you." Snapping open her fan, Rei beckoned in a sickly sweet voice as she brandished her fan's sharp edge. "How about I shorten it by a hand-length?"

The poleaxe whistled through the air, splitting another log in two. Roxxa bent over to toss another piece into the flames before sitting down again, her gaze meeting Rei's without flinching.

After a moment, Rei sat down and put away her fan. Roxxa's gray-blue eyes bore down on Desmi, who sighed and sat down as well before the Northerner spoke. "Rei is right: We can't enter the Whale's Domain unless we're prepared to risk fighting him. And Kymja didn't enter it just to have fun; she promised to stay in contact with us. And now that we're all here, we can discuss how we're going to avoid him and secure the Prodigy."

***

ZhiXia City, near Mursa Shang's caravan

"No. Get up. I do not accept disciples."

Shurra tried to follow the Whale of ZhiXia, still on her knees. "Master Ji, I —"

"You have received guidance, nothing more." The Titled One seemed uninterested in staying, pulling his arm out of Shurra's grasp. "Your way is clear. Continue what you are doing and you may find your own Domain one day."

Before Shurra could protest, the Whale had gone, pushing through the crowd around the caravan. The mursashu gave him a wide berth.

"Don't ask him again."

Shurra turned at the chilling voice to see GloomSire looking down at her. She pushed herself up from her kneeling position, swiping off the dirt before turning around to face the shorter man. "Haven't you?"

"No. He and I go back a little longer than that." The man leaned against a nearby wagon as he spoke, his low voice hard for Shurra to follow. She stepped closer to hear. "And don't take it too personally. He finds the idea of a Master-Disciple relationship too heavy and burdensome."

The idea that the Whale would find anything too difficult for him made Shurra frown. "He told you this?"

"No. But if you know anything about…" GloomSire's voice trailed off as he stroked his chin with bandaged fingers. "Ah yes. His former disciples never received Titles."

"The Whale of ZhiXia had disciples?" Shurra asked in amazement.

The man nodded. "Just two. I met them once, when they were just a girl and a boy." He looked at Shurra's expression, then added quietly, "Both of them are dead."

"I assumed, if I haven't heard of them." Shurra pressed her lips together. "But how?"

GloomSire shrugged his shoulders. "When the Empire took control of Teljumaya, the Bloody Prince fell into slumber. His two disciples heard and went to kill the Bloody Prince. What do you think happened when they were discovered by the Empire's other Titled Ones?"

"That seems both overkill and undeserved." Shurra felt her eyebrows pinch as she tried to understand. "Titled Ones fighting untitled people to the death? Do they not care about their own honor?"

"You Northerners and your obsession with honor reminds me why I never got along with Maxxi," GloomSire muttered. "And you're still young enough to think everyone should follow your arbitrary rules."

"Arbitrary?" Shurra was livid. "Does reputation not matter at all?"

The man shrugged in response. "Not to the dead. I was simply cautioning you to not bother asking him to be your master. And why does it matter? He'll teach you what you want to know. You don't need to present him with the three bows to make it official."

Shurra crossed her arms in thought. What the man was saying was true, and Master Ji had been very forthcoming with his advice. If she could continue learning and improving without the requirements of a master-disciple ceremony, why did it matter if she could claim the Whale of ZhiXia as her honorable master or not? She wouldn't want her fame to be tied to merely being the Whale of ZhiXia's disciple either.

"I will keep that in mind," she nodded, then asked, "I haven't seen you for some time. Will you be joining the Festival's Martial Arena?"

GloomSire shook his head. "Titled Ones don't participate."

The prohibition gave Shurra pause. "I can see why the other Southern cities would stop Titled Ones. But the Sage's Mirror is supposed to summon an equal opponent, no? It could be an honorably fair battle if —"

"It's not about fairness." GloomSire interrupted Shurra. "It's about two Titled Ones fighting it out in a City. Perhaps in the Northern Plains you can afford to be more destructive, and I heard the Twin Stars encourage it, but none of the Cities can afford to have a fight on that level of destruction. ZhiXia City is no different in this regard, even if it conducts the Festival through using the Sage's Mirror."

"I see." Shurra felt disappointed, knowing she wouldn't get the opportunity to see this fight. "Don't you feel cheated out of a good learning opportunity? To practice against an opponent of your caliber so you can fight against the Tempest?"

"He recommended that I work on something else, and I have." Though his expression hardened, GloomSire did not take her bait. "Just like you should work on yours. The Festival will be a good opportunity for you to understand what path you want to take with establishing your Domain."

Shurra sighed. "Yes. I've been meaning to ask Molam about this when I see him. If I see him soon."

"What do you mean, 'if?'"

Shurra was about to respond when GloomSire spun around, cocking his head to the side. Her own sensitive ears heard the distant hoot of an owl, then another, firmer hoot.

"GloomSire?" Shurra took a step towards him, then froze. Bloodlust emanated from the man's eyes, a dark indigo. The sensation sent Shurra's back and neck muscles fully tense, a spine-chilling sensation she had only ever experienced before during her most dangerous hunts.

"I am going to confirm something." The words came out of him, soft as silk yet sharper than a needle. "If I don't come back before the Festival ends, tell Master Ji."

A loud roar, then a black shadow flew over them. Shurra looked up to see GloomSire's bonded pixiu fly overhead as everyone in the vicinity pointed up, making a loud commotion. Another blur saw the man leap up to his bond and straddle it, before the two flew off. Shurra could barely tell, but she thought the Titled One had a look of grim determination.