The fundamental disagreement between the Empire of the Sun and the Free Cities is the main object of their worship. The Empire of the Sun does not dispute the existence of the Gods but declares them unworthy of worship.

Instead, the Empire of the Sun worships the Hero (whom they refer to as the First Hero) and the Companions. The reasoning is that the Hero led the Companions to ascend the Stairs and asked the Gods to create the Sun. If they had not done so, our people would still be condemned to the cold darkness of the Eternal Night.

Some may argue that because the Red Emperor was one of the Companions, he may have strongly influenced the direction of the Empire of the Sun's worship. But one only needs to reference history to see that the Empire of the Sun also included the Gods in their worship several hundred years ago.

I have gone through all of the historical records I can find but none reference why this change happened; only that it did.

— Excerpt from A Difference of Belief, by Scholar Khmi of the Fallen Star Pavilion

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Whether by chance or deliberate planning, ZhiXia City and Sanctuary had the locations of the Festival's three main attractions separated: the bonfire burned right at the City's head in front of Sanctuary, the grudges were settled over food and drink on the City's western districts, and the Martial Arena lay near the city's eastward border.

Street vendors were already set up, hawking their wares for attention and coins. The earliest had staked out sections near the main attractions, but there were still inexperienced stragglers. Whenever two fancied the same area, frustrated shouting would ensue, trailing into forced peace as dark humor was hurled past gritted teeth. The Festival was no time to develop a grudge, after all.

The sizzling scent of food, melted fat and simmering spices cooking in large woks or above open fires spread throughout the air, enticing the gathering throng developing along the streets. The crowd spread towards the Martial Arena, a babbling stream of citizens pausing at stalls in swirling eddies. Despite the density of people, they parted for the Whale of ZhiXia as he waded through them in a natural and smooth manner. Primrose followed right behind the Whale, easily keeping pace in the space left behind him while she kept a close eye on Nettie. The young dark-skinned girl sat on the Whale's shoulder, her head rotating non-stop as she stared wide-eyed at everything she could see, pointing and asking the Whale questions.

Primrose took in all of this as she followed Master Ji, carelessly slapping down a wandering hand as it strayed too close to her waist. The man's sharp yelp was drowned in the crowd as she mentally navigated past the cacophony of sensations: the food, the colors, the repetitive shouts of the street vendors. The streets were a world of raucous merriment and Primrose searched for any hint of bloodlust targeted towards her small charge.

Not that Nettie needed it, sitting atop the Whale's shoulder. And even later, when the Whale would officiate the Arena's matches and Primrose would assume guardianship, Primrose saw little need for her presence. The Empire had just lost a City and the Bloody Prince was supposedly in slumber; this would not be a time for the Empire's remaining Titled Ones to mount an unprecedented attack on Sanctuary.

And yet, the Oracle's letter kept it succinct: Primrose was to guard the Prodigy during the Festival. Primrose had initially flipped the page over, expecting more, but the back was empty, devoid of even the hint of a hidden message.

Part of her wanted to be offended. She had dutifully done her part for the Oracle and bided her time at HuaLang Chamber. In her mind, perhaps they would go on to another of the Empire's Cities — maybe Exabell or Falysos, though Primrose secretly thought about Teljumaya — and freed some more. If they could just erode the Empire's strength while the Bloody Prince slept, it made sense that the Free Cities would look for a chance to move.

A drunkard stumbled from the crowd, leaning towards Primrose as his dirty hands crept towards her thigh. Primrose snatched the wrist, flipping it upwards as she pressed a thumbnail down in between the tendons. The man shouted out in pain, falling down onto his knees in a flurry of curses, the thick stench of alcohol oozing from his open mouth.

"It seems my grip is too strong for us to hold hands." Primrose dug her thumbnail deeper when the man tried to stand up, then dropped his wrist and pinched his nose. She would have done more, but the Festival forbade grudges or violence and the Whale was walking away. She layered aura into her voice. "Behave yourself. Go wash up and enjoy the Festival."

She let go of his nose and flicked it, hoping that would help him smell himself, then turned to follow the Whale and Nettie into the Arena.

***

The Arena itself was a sprawling structure; originally only two stories tall, the residents of ZhiXia City had expanded the Arena to five stories total over the centuries. A statue of the God Thraw stood above the main entrance, chiseled with a traditional helmet covering most of the Goddess' features. Though none of the gods had graced the human realm for centuries, each passerby still paid their sincere respects.

One could still distinguish between the Arena's original structure and the later additions by looking for the light purple stone hewn from YiZhi Mountain. After Sanctuary had forbidden any further quarrying from the Mountain, the extra sections of the Arena had to be built out of dark gray granite.

Two Priestesses, the older one with curly auburn hair and the younger one with her black hair tied in two buns, greeted them and guided their group to the third floor. A special room on the third floor affording a perfect view of the Arena had been reserved for distinguished guests. Primrose entered first — she found it generously spacious with an extravagant array of food and drink; she saw signs here and there that HuaLang Chamber had a hand in the catering. When they approached, Nettie hopped off of Ji's shoulder, perhaps thinking that she would attract less attention on the ground.

The Whale of ZhiXia ducked into the room, Nettie weaving in right under his legs. The room was almost empty except for the Priestesses and one bearded black man with a broadsword on his back. The man saw them and promptly came forward to fall down onto his knees in front of the Whale. Despite the grandiose gesture, the large broadsword on his back never clanged against anything.

"Honorable Master Ji!" The man shouted into the floor as he pressed his head down. Primrose noticed that the man was missing his right arm, with the empty sleeve tied around his sword. "Your continued perfect health shines like the Sun, enduring in its brilliance!"

The Whale of ZhiXia stepped around the man, beckoning towards Nettie and Primrose. "I told you I am not your Honorable Master and you are not my disciple, Martyker."

"Nonsense!" The man named Martyker looked up at Master Ji with a bushy grin. "A good mentor for a day is an enduring mentor for a lifetime! Why, if I hadn't received your guidance, I would still be —"

"Uncle Marty?"

Primrose tensed out of habit as Nettie approached the man, who spun around on his knees to face her. When he saw the girl, his thick-lidded eyes narrowed in thought and then widened as he whispered, "Nettie?"

"Uncle Marty!" Nettie shouted with glee as she ran towards him.

He stood up in a fluid motion, catching the little girl with his only hand as he spun her up and cradled her in the crook of his elbow. "I told you to call me the Armed Swordsman!"

The Whale of ZhiXia frowned. "I did not know the two of you were related."

"No blood relation, no blood relation! But I worked with Master Flangel when he needed help repairing the SunFlower, and the Prodigy would listen to my travel stories as I worked. This is good — very, very good; I had thought all of Techoria's knowledge was lost when I heard that — Ow!" Martyker exclaimed as Nettie pulled at his dark scraggly beard. "The Armed Swordsman's beard is not for pulling."

"Nettie has a name!"

"Oh, you're right, you are very, very right. The Armed Swordsman apologizes. But remember, beards are like butterflies: if you pull on them you will never see them fly."

"Nettie does not understand. Beards can fly?"

"If you believe they can. Watch!" Martyker scrunched up his face while blowing a light stream of air from the sides of his mouth, wiggling his head up and down as he did so. The effect caused his mustache and beard to ripple, seeming like it was flying through the air as he pirouetted around the room with a cackling Nettie in his arm.

Primrose stepped forward, meaning to whisk Nettie out of the man's arm in case he tripped and fell. A silent step to the left behind him and — her hands swiped at thin air.

"And who might you be, beautiful flower-wearing lady? Are you here to steal my only hand?" Martyker's deep voice came from Primrose's right side. She swiveled to face him and took three paces back, loosening a dagger into her palm on reflex. The man squinted at her. "Oh my, your beauty is comparable to even the Twin Stars. If you could — Ow! Nettie, not the beard!"

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Nettie tugged harder. "Put Nettie down! Nettie hates moving quickly like that."

"All right, all right, ouch, stop! Just don't throw up like last time." Martyker quickly set Nettie down, who promptly stumbled towards Primrose. Primrose threw a protective hand around the girl, but her eyes never left Martyker's frame, replaying the moment in her mind when he had stepped out of her vision. How?

"Ah, curiosity burns like a lit incense. How indeed?" He drew out the words, caressing at his beard in a vain attempt to smooth it over. "You seem surprised."

"You walk very lightly for someone carrying such a large sword." She returned the dagger back to its sheath; though Martyker had surprised her, she sensed that he carried no ill-intent. Primrose's eyes flickered towards Master Ji, who had sat down and done nothing. "I suppose you must be a participant in the Arena."

"I did come here for that, yes. And to pay my respects to my Honorable Master." Martyker tilted his head towards the Whale, who watched silently. "But to think I would get to see little Nettie again!"

Primrose heard sounds coming from outside the room and pressed a finger to her lips as the door opened to admit several other participants, glancing from Martyker down to Nettie.

"What do you — oh." Martyker nodded. "I understand, as the dung beetle sees the stars."

Primrose had no idea what that meant nor did she care, but she shuffled Nettie towards the Whale's direction as the room's door opened and several more people poured in. She stared at Martyker as she passed; it was preferable to call Nettie by her name, but still a good reminder for the man to not draw attention to them.

"It's just a simple trick of the feet," he said, and Primrose shook her head. That was not what she wanted him to know. "Oh well, if you don't want to know now, just watch my match later." He grinned, his white teeth shining through the bushy beard. "Perhaps you'll learn something."

Nettie tugged at Primrose's sleeve. "Nettie does not feel good," the girl announced, then leaned forward and vomited onto Primrose's dress and legs.

***

Primrose looked up as a Priestess entered the lavatory, carrying fresh clothes for her and Nettie as well as a clean pair of boots. Primrose thanked the Priestess for her trouble and brought the smaller set of clothes to Nettie, who was still gargling water into a bin.

"Nettie thinks porridge tastes better going down," the little girl declared, wiping her mouth. "Yuck."

"Yuck indeed," Primrose agreed.

"The water too." The girl began clambering up the water trough, reaching for the contraption above. "Nettie should take a look at this."

"Wait," Primrose snatched Nettie down. "Your clothes. Hold your arms up." She helped the girl change into fresh clothes, taking care to not smear the regurgitated food on her clothes anywhere unnecessary.

"Nettie is sorry about throwing up on you, Miss Primrose." The girl's voice sounded contrite despite being muffled in her clothes.

"Not Miss," Primrose corrected almost indignantly. "Big sister Primrose."

"Oh," the girl blinked, "Nettie is sorry about throwing up on you, big sister Primrose."

"It's nothing." Certain that Nettie's clothes had been completely changed, Primrose began tending to her own. First she pulled her clothes off, blinking at Nettie as her hair fell around her face. Though she had changed in front of the Flowers and Petals at the Chamber many times before, it felt different exposing where she kept her knives and daggers to Nettie. "Nothing we can't fix without a change of clothes. And you can just call me Primrose."

"Nettie is also sorry you have to look after Nettie."

Primrose's fingers slipped on the fabric, snatching the new clothes before it fell to the ground. She glanced at Nettie. "What?"

"Nettie is also sorry you have to —" the girl began to repeat herself, but Primrose interrupted. "No, no, I heard that. I meant," she looked back down to her clothes and finished dressing herself, smoothing down the fabric to check if the outlines of any of her blades were visible. Buttoning up the front, she continued, "I meant, what brought this up? I'm not angry at you."

"But Nettie understands you don't want to be here." The girl looked down, shuffling her feet. "Nettie does not want to be a burden."

Primrose looked at Prodigy — as in, truly looked. A young child at six Sorrows, barely older than a toddler. They hadn't talked during the trip from JiangXi, but Primrose had seen enough to know Nettie was different. It unnerved Primrose in ways she could not truly explain; that everything she thought she knew about handling children both applied and were incorrect when it came to Nettie.

"I'm not angry at you, Nettie. In fact, anyone would consider it a privilege to be assigned to protect you." When the girl didn't respond or look up, Primrose knelt down so the two of them were at face level. Placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, Primrose forced her face to be passive. "Nettie. Will you please look at me when we talk?"

The girl looked up, large brown eyes meeting Primrose's gaze with hesitation. Primrose softened her voice, layering in her aura to soothe the girl. "Earlier, you said that you think I don't want to be here. What makes you think so?"

Nettie frowned. Her eyebrows were too far apart to close the distance. "Nettie dislikes when adults try to use aura like that."

Ah, right. "No aura, then," Primrose smiled as she internally berated herself. Despite the girl's looks and mannerisms, she was still a Titled One. "I'm sorry for that."

"Nettie forgives you." The girl patted Primrose on the head. "But only for the aura. Nettie also dislikes fake smiles."

Primrose felt her practiced smile falter, perhaps the first time since she had earned her flowers. Prodigy indeed. Was this what Nettie had meant when she implied she knew Primrose's true thoughts?

"Sometimes," Primrose began slowly, "Sometimes adults are used to showing a fake smile because we are…" she trailed off, then finished, "Because we are trying our best. To accept where we find ourselves."

"Nettie knows." The girl patted Primrose's head again. "GrandFather always said life is about trying our best."

"Well, he was known as the Wise."

"GrandFather was," Nettie agreed, then stood back and looked at Primrose. "But Nettie thinks this makes you want to be elsewhere when you cannot, and that is silly. Nettie has a suggestion."

Primrose blinked. Then she gave a slow nod. "I am listening."

The girl nodded back at Primrose. "Nettie thinks you should not think about accepting where you find yourself, but finding purpose in wherever you happen to be." She scurried over to the water trough and pointed at the contraption for dispensing water installed above. "See? Nettie can do better."

After staring at the contraption, Primrose looked down to Nettie again. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

The girl stamped her foot lightly, as though frustrated at Primrose for being slow-witted, then clambered up the trough. Primrose rushed forward to hold the girl's waist, afraid she might fall.

"Hold Nettie up, please," the girl commanded, and wedged a small hand into the contraption. Primrose held the girl steady and watched with confused curiosity as Nettie pulled out a small black tube with faint glowing runes from within.

"Is that dangerous?" Primrose asked urgently.

"This?" The girl laughed, signaling for Primrose to put her back down. "Dangerous for you if you like being dirty, Nettie thinks. It is just a purification tool for water. Look with Nettie?"

The girl inspected the black tube in full, rotating it in her hand and peering through the opening before she murmured, "Mm. Very good. But Nettie can do better."

She rummaged within her clothes and pulled out a rune-carving pen, a smaller version of what Primrose had seen Kalle use. The pen's tip came to life in a glowing bead of gold and Nettie began tracing new runes over the tube. After the third rune glowed on the tube, she was done, blowing lightly at the runes so they imprinted onto the material. Then she showed Primrose, rotating it in her hands as though Primrose would understand the runes. "See, see. Nettie made it consider the air in the lavatory too! Now the water is even cleaner."

"I… see," Primrose responded politely, then when the girl gave her a disapproving glare, she hastily added, "But I don't think my purpose is to fix alchemy tools."

"Nhaah," the little girl sighed, clambering up the water trough again. Primrose helped stabilize the girl as she stuffed the water purification tool back into the contraption. "Nettie is not telling you to fix tools. Nettie is showing you how you can find purpose wherever you are!"

"Oh." Primrose blinked again, feeling as though she suddenly understood what the girl was talking about. A distant memory surfaced from when she spent time as a Petal, listening to the Madam about how a Flower should discipline her thoughts. About the ways a Flower could find joy, however temporary and transient, even in moments of wishing she wasn't being embraced. Discipline. How many times had the Madam repeated her mantra? Mastery over one's thoughts leads to control over one's actions. "Oh," she said again, "I see."

"Hmm." The girl peered at Primrose's face before she nodded as she hopped back down. "Yes. Nettie sees you understand. If you feel better, Nettie thinks we should return."

Primrose allowed the little girl to pull her out of the lavatory, their soiled clothes bundled up safely. The Priestess who had brought them clean clothes accepted the soiled clothes, nodding when Primrose explained where to bring them.

On their way back to the room, Primrose saw herself in the little girl pulling her along. She remembered a little girl, one who had just lost her home, comforting Scarlette as the older girl sobbed silently after her first day as a Flower. How had she forgotten?

"I'm sorry."

Nettie looked back at her. "For what?"

"I just… am." Primrose bit back the urge to apologize again. How could she have forgotten? The girl had just lost her home, her family, and here she was, comforting Primrose. "I thought I was an adult. You grow up, thinking you've outgrown the things that used to define you. But just between the two of us; sometimes, I am still a child."

Nettie seemed to think her words over, then shrugged. "Nettie doesn't understand, but Nettie forgives you anyways. How-eh-ver!" The girl's small hand squeezed Primrose's fingers with each syllable. "Nettie won't forgive you if Nettie misses the matches! What if Nettie misses Uncle Marty's match?"

"Aren't you supposed to call him the Armed Swordsman?" Primrose smiled.

"Names. Have. A. Purpose!"

"All right, all right." Primrose allowed Nettie to pull her back towards the previous room. Finding purpose wherever she found herself, was it? But if purpose was found in what one did best, Primrose hoped she didn't need to do anything here. She looked down at the girl. "But you do know this Martyker, right? He said he helped Flangel the Wise fix the SunFlower?"

"Mhm, mhm! No blood relation with Nettie, but Uncle Marty is Uncle." Nettie yanked at Primrose's sleeve. "And, he tells Nettie the best stories."

"Really? All I've heard him say so far are things that are quite hard to understand."

"Oh, Uncle Marty does that. You will understand him soon, just like Nettie does."

Primrose doubted it, but she followed Nettie back into the room. Ever since she earned her flowers, her purpose anywhere had always seemed to be clear, even from her very first assignment. Primrose had always wondered if Scarlette had eventually found out it was Primrose who had begged the previous Madam to assign her to find the woman who had bought Scarlette's first night.

A woman who could no longer buy anything.