The friendship between the Red Emperor and Flangel the Wise may be immortalized in a shared line within their writings; the Red Emperor's Meditations and Flangel the Wise's personal journal.

"The greatest gift we can give others is a better future."

It is a shame that Flangel the Wise and the Prince of the Empire did not see eye to eye after the War of Crowns. Two who held the Title of Prodigy. One wonders what they could have accomplished together.

— Excerpt from Titled Ones, by Scholar Gibryl of the Fallen Star Pavilion

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Day 2 of the Festival of the Hero

Molam sat in the special seating on the third floor of the Martial Arena and yawned, drawing a look of disapproval from Shurra as they listened through the announcing Priestess's explanation of the event and how the Sage's Mirror worked for those who may be new. He covered his mouth with a lazy hand.

"Don't give me that look," he protested. "It's you and Primrose that refused to let me go to sleep early with your questions."

"Perhaps if somebody hadn't gone and disappeared for weeks."

"Is that sass? From you of all people, Shurra? And did your collective curiosity really need to be satisfied yesterday?" Molam bit into his breakfast: fried dough wrapped in a fried egg, stuffed between two pieces of bread. The savory taste woke him up some more, as though awakening the taste buds also woke up the body. After swallowing, he murmured, "At least I'm not late. Have you seen Primrose? She was the one who pressed upon me how important it was for me to not miss this."

"You shouldn't claim diligence for my efforts." Shurra responded testily. "You avoided being late because I was at your door in the morning."

"Yes, yes, but the least you could have done is allow me to eat before dragging me here. My name isn't even on the schedule yet."

Glowering at him, Shurra spoke in a low voice, "Do you know what we do in the Northern Tribes to men who are late?"

Molam laughed nervously, pouring himself a hot cup of tea. "Well then, good thing we aren't in the Northern Plains."

Truth be told, Molam had been unable to find a way to avoid coming here. Despite distracting Primrose with the admission of his encounter with HuaLang Chamber, she seemed to ignore that Molam now knew a bit more about her history and had focused on making sure he did what the Madam wanted. "And seeing as Primrose is late, what do the Northern Tribes do to women who are late?"

"Those who care for children get extra leeway," Shurra scooted her chair back, standing up. "Perhaps you should remember that."

"Where are you going?" Molam asked through a mouthful of food. It was probably rude, but Molam knew Shurra didn't care much for these manners. And he found himself quite hungry.

"To check up on Primrose. Children are a handful, you know. Keep eating."

Shurra left, her parting indifference making Molam wonder what had happened since the time he went up to the Castle. Then again, he mused as he dipped more egg in soy sauce, he could only blame himself for the way he left them.

"Well, well," said a familiar sing-song voice behind him. "Young master Molam. I am glad to see you well rested after the first day of the Festival."

Molam turned, seeing Madam Scarlette standing next to Mursa Shang. The Mursa, dressed in fine black silk robes with golden links embroidered in the seams, seemed younger with his long hair tied up in a neat bun behind his head. The Madam herself wore a body-hugging red dress decorated with streaks of silver and a red veil over her eyes, though her lips had been painted a plum black. Molam could not be sure but the silver streaks in her dress seemed to be embedded needles.

"You two know each other?" Mursa Shang frowned, looking from one to the other.

"We met yesterday over tea and young master Molam was kind enough to promise he would entertain me during today's Arena." Madam Scarlette arranged her dress neatly before sitting down on a nearby chair. "I am certainly looking forward to it."

"That's one way to describe it," Molam muttered before standing up to offer the Mursa his hand. "Happy Festival of the Hero to you, Mursa Shang. How goes business?"

"A bit limited, but don't worry about it. I consider it an honor to have committed four of my wagons to your cause," the Mursa returned his handshake before sitting down. "Nevertheless, I believe my mursashu should be able to recoup that loss. Gyota has discovered quite the confectioner; the only limiting issue is whether we can preserve the goods for any lengthy duration."

"Don't speak as though you truly entered that in your ledger as a loss." Molam had no intention of letting the Mursa reframe their bargain as a favor. "You were more than well compensated considering you received a meeting with the Oracle. I delivered to you something the richest man in the world cannot buy."

"Ahhh, of course. A loss in numbers, but finances can hardly calculate the desires of the psyche, yes?" Mursa Shang's face became inscrutable, though he laid a friendly hand on Molam's shoulder. "Is a deal not inherently two people walking away happier? I help you with something, and you help me with something. And so you have my gratitude, that you do! But now the issue of returning my people to Mur has taken an unexpected turn and I was hoping to discuss this with the Dao at length some other time."

Molam frowned. What had the Oracle told the Mursa? Molam assumed it had to do with the Lost City of Mur, but what could Mursa Shang want from the Dao to warrant another discussion?

Before he could ask, two Priestesses showed up. The younger one stepped forward with masked confusion, bowing to him. "Molam. We could not find the combatant scheduled to go next, but your name was written down as a backup registrant. If you are ready, we ask you to go down to the first floor's preparation room."

"Ah, the Madam did say you would be… entertaining her." Mursa Shang looked up at the Priestesses, then back to Molam. "I look forward to seeing your match. Perhaps I should bet on you?" Spoken as though sincere if not for the tone.

Molam did not rise to the bait. "What Mursa gambles on coin flips?"

"Oh, I wouldn't call you a coin flip," the Mursa responded. "Those are certainly easier to predict."

"How flattering." Feeling the Madam's gaze on him, Molam stood up and finished his tea. "I'm afraid I'll only disappoint," he told the Mursa, "especially if the echo is as hungry as I am."

Mursa Shang winked. "Don't summon a Titled One, now."

Molam snorted, then gave Madam Scarlette a stiff nod. "Madam Scarlette."

"I'm looking forward to this," she gave him a smile, her eyes hidden behind her veil. "HuaLang Chamber will serve you something better than tieguanyin if you win."

"I'm not sure I'm eager to go back," Molam replied as he parted ways with them, "And I probably can't afford it."

Upon leaving the room, Molam encountered Primrose, Shurra, Nettie, and the bearded Oasian with a greatsword coming up the stairs.

"Molam!" Nettie greeted him enthusiastically with a wave. The clothes she wore remained largely the same as he saw last night, though the shoes seemed fresh and the white cloak had been cleaned.

"We were delayed," Primrose informed him as Molam bent down to accept the Prodigy's hug. Today, she wore her curly orange hair in a loosely-bound bundle that fell down to her back, decorated with her usual bright blue satem flowers. A purple dress similar to Madam Scarlette's hugged Primrose's body, but without the silver dashes. Knowing her, Molam suspected daggers and other blades strapped around her limbs, but a quick glance betrayed none of the well-hidden blades. "Some things happened and our young charge almost got burnt."

"Net — I is sorry," the girl said out loud, then whispered into Molam's ear, "Nettie saw a very interesting wok. Runes very similar to Kalle's warming stones, but designed for cooking. Smokeless!"

"And what did we learn?" The bearded Oasian sighed. He, too, largely wore the same clothes Molam remembered seeing him in yesterday: a simple jerkin, deep blue shirt, brown pants and knee-high boots. But he moved fluidly with the greatsword on his back; it never bumped into anything. Molam tried to not stare at the missing arm.

Nettie stepped back with an eye roll, turning to the swordsman. "We should ask before we touch cooking things, Uncle Marty."

"On that note, are you sure your fingers are fine?" Primrose knelt down to inspect Nettie's hand.

"Are fine," the girl said hastily, trying to pull away. "Want to watch Arena!"

"You tried to touch a wok full of boiling oil," Primrose gave the girl a forehead flick, "Even masters of physical reinforcement would think twice. Come, we're taking you to the infirmary so the Priestesses can make sure your fingers won't fall off later."

"Fingers can fall off?" The girl's eyes widened.

"They do if you touch hot things without thinking," Primrose told her, giving Molam a look. "Judging by your direction, it's your turn to enter the Arena?"

Molam nodded. "We can go down together."

"Go quick, go quick!" The girl tried to run down the stairs, but Shurra and the Oasian held out their arms, barring her from falling down the steps. Nettie resorted to bouncing on her feet in place. "Need fingers to write runes!"

Molam and Primrose caught up to the girl, thankful that the other two had prevented her from rushing off.

Shurra said, "I think I'll go watch Molam's fight from the balcony."

"I will join you so I can eat before my fight," the Oasian rumbled, his eyes glinting at Molam behind his bushy beard. "But I am equally interested."

"Save some food for me then, Shurra," Primrose said, "I forgot to eat because of this one."

When they parted ways, Molam asked Primrose on the way down the stairs, "Who's that Oasian?"

"Why? Are you worried about being replaced?"

Molam sighed. "For the last time, I'm sorry I didn't contact you for several weeks. I thought the Oracle would be more forthcoming."

"Mmm." Primrose didn't look at him, her gaze focused on the little girl running down the steps before them. "His name is Martyker. Master Ji allowed him to be close; apparently he and our little curious fingers here know each other from before."

"They seem close from what I saw last night."

"Well, we're still strangers to her, in a way. Of course she would like to spend time with someone she knew from before." She paused, then added softly, "She's quite taken with him. I can't blame her, after… everything she's lost. I keep an eye on her, of course, but I must admit… while I can protect her, he's doing even more than that. I even overheard him tell her a bedtime story last night when I went to check up on her."

"A bedtime story, hm?" Molam wondered idly what the story had been. "Has she ever asked you for one?"

"A few times. But I'm a terrible storyteller."

Reaching the first floor, they walked down a hall leading towards the Arena's center. The infirmary was supposed to be close.

"Aren't you entering the Arena?" Primrose frowned, looking Molam up and down. "No sword? No bow and arrow?"

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Ah. Shurra dragged me here so quickly I forgot them in my room." And it was true. Both of them were in his room — in the Castle. Molam hadn't thought he would need them in ZhiXia City. "I suppose I will need to make do."

Primrose pulled a sheathed dagger out of her sleeve, pressing it into his hand. "It's unlike you to be so woefully unprepared, Molam. I assume you know how to not cut yourself."

"Well, what's there to prepare for? I certainly don't care if I win this or not. It's your Madam who —"

"Is that a child?"

Molam and Primrose looked up at the outburst. A raven-haired Priestess was flagging them down, pointing to Nettie as she walked up, her pristine white robes fluttering. "Children are not allowed to enter the Arena! What are you thinking? What would you do if she got hurt?"

Primrose relaxed, feeling Nettie cling onto her. She gave the girl a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Oh, we aren't entering the Arena itself, Priestess. I was simply taking her to the infirmary."

"Oh. I've seen you." The Priestess frowned, her thin eyebrows coming together on her porcelain-skin. "Did she throw up again? Regardless, that infirmary is for contestants. Can you imagine if every person came here asking for a quick fix, and then the Priestesses used up her aura and couldn't help a contestant?" The Priestess walked up to them, looking from Molam to Primrose, her eyes lingering on the dagger in Molam's hand. "Aren't you the next contestant? Is that your preferred weapon?"

Molam lowered the weapon. "I wouldn't say preferred, but…"

"Well, seeing as you are next, you shouldn't dally. Get to the preparation room so you can inspect your weapon before your match." The Priestess turned to Primrose. "And you? I don't believe you are a contestant. This area is for contestants and their supporters only."

"I'm here to support him," Primrose responded quickly.

"Then do that, but children are still not allowed here. If you're going to support the contestant, then I'll take the child back up to the third floor. My mentor is tending to the others in your group, and although she isn't as skilled as Priestess Raella in the healing arts she can still give the child a look."

Something weighed on the back of Molam's thoughts. Coupled with Nettie's sudden apprehension, Molam took a step forward as the Priestess approached, barring her from reaching Nettie. "Your mentor is on the third floor?"

The Priestess hesitated. "Yes?"

"Primrose, blade." Molam drew the dagger from its sheath, pointing it straight at the Priestess. "Who are you?"

"I'm a Priestess of Sanctuary," the Priestess' smile had gone frigid. "Do you not see this white robe —"

Primrose struck, sliding in with daggers flashing through the air. The blades ripped through the white robe, tearing it apart as Molam picked Nettie up into his arms and retreated several steps. Primrose's two quick strikes were quickly followed up by throwing a dagger straight through, aiming for the heart; the next moment, she had retreated backwards right next to Molam, her eyes blazing with purple aura as she pulled a replacement short knife out of a sleeve.

Half of the tattered white cloth fell to the ground; the other half had been pinned to the wall by Primrose's thrown blade. The woman standing there seemed unfazed as she plucked the weapon out of the wall, examining its handle and edge. Her voice changed, from the polite and warm tone of the Priestess earlier to a soft-spoken drawl with an ice-cold edge. "What gave me away?"

Molam held onto Nettie's hand as he backed away slowly with Primrose, his eyes never leaving the woman in front of him. "Once paired, Priestesses don't separate during their mentorship."

"I see, I see… an unfortunate matter, then. Roxxa probably couldn't given her size, but Rei probably could have…?" The woman seemed to murmur to herself as she balanced the dagger in her hand. "This is a good blade, Primrose." She twirled the blade in her hand, shifting her grip constantly as though it were just a toy. After taking a few practice slices, she looked up at Molam and Primrose with newly violet eyes. "I'll keep it and allow you to live if you walk away right now."

They had backed to the corner of the corridor, and Molam shouted to Primrose, "Run! To Master Ji!" He scooped up Nettie and ran for the Arena, the entrance so close he could see the light. A commotion came from behind him, but Molam didn't turn around to see if Primrose followed suit — the moment he heard the woman say the Tempest and the OutCast's names told him all he needed to know about who she was.

A Titled One of the Empire.

But before he could exit the corridor, the woman walked right through the wall in front of him, far too quickly for Molam to even slow down.

"And you — you're the Oracle's vessel, aren't you?"

The blade flew through the air — Primrose's hand shoved him aside and the weapon buried itself into Molam's shoulder, just missing his heart. Primrose dashed right past him, daggers attacking from two different directions. The woman's hands snatched Primrose by her elbow and wrist. Primrose delivered a swift upwards knee without hesitation and the woman dropped her own elbow downwards to block it. A contest of strength saw the woman roll backwards, pulling Primrose with her and carrying the momentum into a backwards tumble that resulted in her kicking Primrose out behind her and into the Arena.

The woman stood up, brushing off dirt and advanced on Molam as he backed off, trying to ignore the piercing pain in his shoulder. Before Molam could react, the woman stood in front of him and yanked the dagger out of his shoulder. He yelped at the sudden pain and she took his momentary lapse to pull Nettie out of his grasp.

The girl struggled, and the woman passed a hand cloaked in violet aura over the girl's face. Nettie's eyes rolled over in her head and she fell limp into the woman's arms.

"Nettie!" The magnitude of the problem had become fully apparent to Molam. The Empire had sent a Titled One into ZhiXia City to capture the Prodigy.

"And you, the Oracle's vessel." Her borrowed blade stabbed upwards, wrapped in her violet aura. Then red and orange flames erupted around Molam's frame, causing her to leap backwards in alarm. "A Domain?"

A wave of aura flooded the corridor, causing the woman to stumble. "Ah, blasted timing," she muttered while straightening up. The color within the corridor changed from violet to deep blue. "He's found me."

Water rushed through the hall from behind Molam, a tidal wave surging through the small space to push him forward. The wall of water coalesced around Molam in a roar, then forced all of them out of the hallway into the Arena.

Molam sputtered on the ground, sizzling with steam as the fiery Domain rapidly dried his drenched clothes, the wound in his shoulder itching painfully. By the time Molam looked up, he saw Master Ji barreling down on the woman as she desperately stayed out of his reach.

Streams of water trickled in from everywhere; the sky, the ground, and even from what Molam suspected was the Arena's lavatories. A pulling gesture from Master Ji saw the water collect into his hand, forming a swirling ball which he threw at the woman. It expanded in midair and exploded, drenching the woman and Nettie in water.

The Whale clenched his fist; the water around the woman's legs froze. But not enough; the blade flashed and the ice shattered, just in time for the woman to leap out of the Whale's reach once again.

"Molam."

Molam whirled to his side, seeing Primrose walk towards him, her eyes also on the fight. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. She knocked the wind out of me, but it's no injury." She stopped at the boundary of the Domain, her glowing eyes looking over it uneasily. "So you can use your aura again."

The red Domain shrank and petered out. Perhaps the feather believed he was no longer in trouble?

Primrose lingered at the edge. "May I enter?"

Molam raised an eyebrow. "Only if you don't harbor ill intent."

"There are times I do feel like killing you, yes." Primrose replied sweetly, then walked towards Molam. "Why were you so evasive last night when I asked you if you could use your aura again?"

"Would you believe me if I say this is a last resort?" Molam responded. Truthful still. "Don't expect me to be able to use this lightly."

"I imagine it must be like having just recovered a torn muscle." She stood next to him, stretching as the two of them watched the Whale contain the woman who had pretended to be a Priestess.

Master Ji stood in the center of the stage. He had pulled in more water from the surroundings to soak the entire Arena, and clearly felt no more need to personally run after his quarry. His Domain gave their attacker little room to maneuver; she had tried to run through one of the Arena’s main entrances, but found the hallways filled floor to ceiling with water and been forced to turn back. Now, the Whale slowly trapped their attacker from afar, enclosing the space she could go and reducing it as he went.

Primrose seemed entranced by the fight. "That must be the HushFang. Why isn't she just walking through the ice like earlier through the wall?"

"It must have limitations," Molam massaged his shoulder, feeling the itching fade away. "Perhaps she can't keep her hold on Nettie otherwise? Master Ji is being very patient as well; I assume he's taking his time and limiting the force of his attacks in case he injures Nettie." The scenery playing out in front of him reminded Molam of the time the Red Army's soldiers had cornered him in the Slumbering Forest. If the soldiers then hadn't also been afraid of injuring the egg, Molam doubted he would have survived the encounter otherwise.

Wisps of steam floated into his vision; Molam looked down to see water congregating all over the Arena's stage, hissing at the edges of the feather's Domain. The HushFang no longer allowed herself to touch the ground for long, dashing swiftly through the pooling water as tendrils of water and ice threatened to capture her.

But the Whale had lulled her into a false sense of security. A pool just in front of her flash froze and the slippery patch caused the HushFang to lose her balance — in the next moment she lost her footing Master Ji lobbed another ball of exploding water, trapping her in ice. Before she could break free, more water crept up her icy prison, but not before the HushFang brought her blade close to the unconscious Nettie's neck.

"Kymja." The Whale of ZhiXia's eyes, usually stoic, carried murderous weight. His soft-spoken voice carried a hard edge, rumbling unnaturally in Molam's ears with the heavy weight of self-restraint. "I would like to respect the Festival's traditions. If you let go of the Prodigy, I will allow you to leave unscathed."

"The Whale of ZhiXia." The HushFang smiled back, but a taut look in her face showed visible wariness. "It doesn't ring as well as your old Title, does it?"

More water pooled into Master Ji's hand. "My patience is limited."

"Why are you stopping me from bringing the Prodigy back to her home?"

The water collected in his hand churned in a raging torrent. "The home the Empire destroyed?"

"Don't give me that. I wasn't there, but we all saw the Bright Night. Flangel the Wise, in his infinite wisdom, destroyed Techoria alongside the SunFlower. The Prince only wanted to talk, and yet —"

The Whale gestured forward; the water in his hand streaked forward in a jet aimed straight at the HushFang's head. Violet engulfed the HushFang, causing the ice to look like a purple amethyst; the jet of water passed harmlessly through. The wall behind her was not so immaterial and the water stream pierced right through, leaving only a tiny hole in the stone.

The ice broke and the HushFang dashed for the wall, her violet aura surging forward. Again, spikes of ice emerged but slowed down when they encountered the HushFang's Domain, turning into easy footholds for her to leap on as she vaulted up the Arena's walls, still carrying an unconscious Nettie.

Water roared out of the fourth and fifth floors in a torrent, catching the HushFang in midair and bringing her crashing back down. It seemed for a moment that the water would separate Nettie from the HushFang's grasp, only for it to fail when her aura flared again, expelling the water from her surroundings in a burst of faded violet. Master Ji pounded an open palm with a closed fist and the water in the Arena froze; but this time, the HushFang's small Domain did not dissipate, preventing her drenched figure from being imprisoned yet again. Primrose took a step closer to Molam as well — ice had formed outside of his fiery Domain, crawling upwards in fractal tendrils.

Molam looked around. The Martial Arena's interior had been encased in ice, and audience members that hadn't yet escaped were finishing fleeing the stands. Icicles grew out of the walls, each sharp edge pointing straight at the HushFang.

"You use a lot more ice than I expected," the HushFang observed from within her violet Domain. "Are you sure about this? You might hit the Prodigy."

The Whale hesitated with his hands apart. "Thank you for the reminder."

Next moment, he clapped his hands together. Jets of water shot out of each icicle aimed straight at the violet Domain, crashing against its perimeters and flowing down. But as the water splashed against the Domain, it began solidifying into ice. In mere moments, hundreds of shots turned into a ball of ice encasing the HushFang within. When combined with the violet aura flaring inside, it looked as though Master Ji had trapped a storm of purple fire.

"A good solution. If the HushFang wants to leave that, she must leave Nettie behind." Molam nodded to himself with approval. If Master Ji couldn't safely tear Nettie away from the HushFang's grasp, he could force the HushFang to abandon her. Seeing the threat contained, Molam and Primrose walked forward to Master Ji as he kept the HushFang imprisoned, the ball of ice shrinking around the trapped Titled One within.

"Molam!" He looked up to see Shurra and the Oasian called Martyker drop down from the third floor. A light step later, Madam Scarlette also descended in. "I wanted to jump down immediately, but we had to help the Priestesses evacuate the citizens."

"Looks like everyone's here," he greeted, looking over the group. "No Mursa Shang? I'd have thought he would be interested in making me owe him a favor."

Madam Scarlette answered. "He evacuated with the others, saying he needed to ensure his mursashu were safe."

It made sense, but part of Molam wondered if it wasn't a convenient excuse for the Mursa to disappear just when the Empire came calling. "I would have thought you also evacuated with the rest."

"And miss this?" Shurra raised her eyebrow at him while nodding to the purple ball. Everyone stared transfixed as Kymja fought Master Ji's imprisoning ice. The HushFang was clearly attacking it from within, but the Whale did not let up from layering on new layers of ice each time the prison formed a new crack.

A crash. Molam whirled around to see the icicles around the Arena dropping down to the ground as the red Domain flared out, encompassing him and the ones gathered around him. Next moment, a gust of green wind pressed flatly down upon the Domain protecting them. The feather around his wrist seared as the ground beneath their feet cracked; stalagmites erupted elsewhere within the Arena's stage, but none from beneath their feet or in the area directly around Master Ji.

As the Whale turned to ensure they were safe, he doubled back with his head swung up; next moment, he shoved Shurra away from him into Molam's Domain. A large shadow crashed down upon him with its weapon swinging; Master Ji caught the downward strike with an arm. The sheer force of the blow caused the water on the ground to dissipate into a fine mist as spidery cracks appeared on the walls.

Molam saw the Whale had blocked the blow at the weapon's shaft while catching the Northern Warrior's low punch with his free hand. The struggle of strength became a struggle of footwork as the Northerner tried to prevent Master Ji from tripping her. It seemed she remained unwilling to give up her advantageous threat with her poleaxe shoving him down. But whether through trickery or accident, the Northerner's boot slipped on water; Master Ji moved immediately, twisting her weapon to the side to grab her shoulder, throwing a punch straight at her jaw.

Thunder rumbled through the air and the Whale leapt backwards. With a deafening crack, yellow lightning struck where he had been standing to explode the ground in a shower of ice, mud, and rock. The Northerner had regained her balance, if splattered with mud. Before them, a tanned man yanked a harpoon out of the ground where the lightning had struck. Nodding at the newcomer, the Northerner walked over to the ball of ice, brandishing her weapon.

"The Traitor," Shurra breathed murderously.

Molam's eyes widened. The Traitor?

Roxxa the OutCast?

When Roxxa raised her poleaxe to smash Kymja's prison, water surged in a tidal wave towards Roxxa from Master Ji's location. Before the wave could crash into its intended targets, a green swirl drew the water into an upward spout, diverting the water into the sky. Before the water could be blown elsewhere, the Whale snapped his fingers and the waterspout split in three while losing its cohesion, the water crashing back down like a small waterfall.

"Molam."

He turned to look at Primrose, surprised by the urgency of her tone. Following her gaze upwards, Molam locked gazes with the green eyes of the person levitating above the arena, her fan held at the ready. The eyes narrowed.

The Tempest.

A loud blow followed by a crack shattered the ice prison, releasing the HushFang from within.

"Took the three of you long enough," the HushFang muttered as she kicked her away through the remaining ice, carrying Nettie in her arms. "Was Desmi too busy flirting to respond to my message?"

"Don't be like that, my beloved Kymja. I came for you as soon as I heard your message." The tanned man flicked a dagger with a black blade to the HushFang. "Your fang."

Desmi. Molam knew that name, and his Title. The Islander.

"Save the lover's quarrel for later," the OutCast took a stance, her eyes firmly locked onto the Whale of ZhiXia. "You forget who we stand in front of."

"By the sands," Martyker swore as he pulled his greatsword from his back. "Four Titled Ones of the Empire." His sword gleamed, held in front of him by his single hand with his body shifted in a backwards slant, a stance that allowed him freedom of movement while ensuring any assailant must get past his sword. "The echoing sands hint at a tumultuous horizon."

Molam had no idea what that meant, but he silently agreed.