The four of them moved through camp towards Elder Jaliete’s personal tent. There was a constant feeling of tension in the camp as they passed the many still-recovering people. Extra sick tents were erected for the worst off but most were left on simple mats around the camp. Pained faces were everywhere, the people over level fifty were the ones most affected but everyone was injured.

Elder Jaliete was the highest level among them and the fact that she was walking around was impressive. Dalen knew Leo was still recovering but he was well ahead of the rest of the soldiers near his level. Melisia’s situation was similar but she had recovered faster still.

The camp was even quieter than usual, even the kids that normally ran around for a while at the end of each day were quiet. Dalen frowned, he guessed losing a friend did take the fun out of life.

The one noise that rang across the camp was the forge. Karus, the man responsible for Dalen’s increasingly high-quality bomb casings was hammering away at a different project when they walked by.

Karus raised his head from his work, “Are the casings to your liking?” His voice was as soft as ever, completely at odds with the man's hard features.

“Yes, Thank you Karus.”

“May I ask you a question?”

Something in the man’s tone made Dalen pause and the others followed suit, “Sure, it's the least I can do for all the help you have given me.”

“It's my boy’s question really but he was too afraid to ask. He wanted to know if you would start speaking to everyone again.”

Dalen hadn’t been expecting that. Ever since their desperate journey across the fractured path Dalen hadn’t spoken more than a handful of times to anyone and those few words weren’t exactly words of wisdom or encouragement. “Yes, Dalen as usual you have been acting like a prick once again…”

Even though he knew Kal was just a man, or at least just a man with more problems than most he also knew that they did not. To them he was a thing of myth and prophecy, the desperate situation on the fractured path would have only reinforced that in their minds. Dalen was supposed to be swaying the people to his side and learning what he could about the order's overall goals but instead, he had been sulking in his tent growling at everyone who got near him.

“Get it together idiot! You aren’t helping anyone by being in a shitty mood.”

“Of course, Melisia and I were discussing that earlier today. Please let everyone who wants to speak with me that I will be making the rounds later tonight.” Dalen felt Leo and Melisia’s smirk through the back of his head.

“Thank you, Dalen, I am sure he will be glad to hear it.”

The four of them moved on, leaving Karus to his work. Dalen actively avoided looking at Leo and Melisia until they reached Jaliete’s tent. Two pale-looking fighters opened the entrance for them and Dalen let out a relieved groan as he felt the cool air of the temperature-controlled tent flow over his damp skin.

Dalen hadn’t seen Jaliete’s tent before but just a quick glance around its interior screamed, “I’m the richest person here!” Dalen used Identify on several decorative items and cringed when he saw their rarities.

Exquisite Rug of Eldraphont [Rare]

Lamp of Greater Fire [Rare]

Quilt of Everlasting Comfort [Rare]

“Yep definitely the richest here…”

The layout of the tent was surprisingly similar to Melisia’s with a research and study area but instead of simply having a bed on one side the tent was big enough to fit a fully enclosed bedroom area with its own entrance and a small sitting area next to it. Jaliete led them over to the research area and Dalen recognized several core diving instruments similar to the ones in Melisia’s tent along with a couple more he didn’t recognize.

Dalen stood looking at the setup not really thinking they were going to find anything. The others all turned to look at him expectantly, “Fine let's get this over with. What do I do? I remember watching Kal mediate. Do I need to do that as well?”

Melisia and Jaliete nodded but Melisia spoke first, “Yes, I will show you the first few steps.”

Dalen sat down on a mat but not before identifying it as well.

Mat [Inferior]

“Really… With all the fancy crap laying around you’d think I’d get at least a nice mat.”

Melisia sat across from him with her legs crossed, she had perpetually worn riding dresses since they left Farninghold, “She never used to wear dresses when we ran the streets.”

“Did you want to say something, Dalen?” Melisia asked, her lavender eyes seeing straight through him.

“Nope.” Dalen wiped the smirk from his face and tried to sit the way Kal had, with his hands on his knees.

Melisia guided him through a few relaxation exercises before moving on to looking inwards. Dalen had some experience with looking into his body to watch the effects of different brews and now potions and would certainly gain more in the future but looking into his core space was never a priority. He wasn’t a mage and the few skills that he needed to improve his understanding of were of a more external nature anyway, like Harvest Essence.

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He honestly felt a bit self-conscious with all the eyes and tools pointing at him while he sat on the ground trying to act relaxed. Dalen wasn’t a fan of sitting still, it was wasting time he could be spending making potions or reading alchemy journals. But above all else, he wanted to fight something. He was sick of being dead weight. Oh, Dalen knew what he felt was nothing to what Kal had gone through but when Dalen needed to be strong he had fallen short.

*Thud* *Thud*

He wanted to watch as his bombs tore his enemies apart.

*Thud*

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Commander Hurius stood in the throne room of Alden White-Mane Arch-Duke of Farninghold. It was quite pleasing to the eye. Marble tiling and silver filigree covered the walls and thin pillars lined the walkway towards the throne. Hurius stood alone, while his remaining men were made to wait outside.

Coming to this city at all was a disgrace, coming back with bare scraps of his men was even worse but it was as his lord willed.

Killing the cultists that the foul witch Jaliete had sent to escort him back here was oh-so amusing. He had hoped to bring the entire heretical cult with him or at least that bitch Tanaruhn but you can’t get them all.

Hurius had no interest in telling the Duke of the demons no, what he wanted was something far more important to his lord’s goals.

Finally, the door behind the throne swung open and an announcer spoke, “Please bow for Arch-Duke Alden White-Mane, Prophet of Quotz, and Lord of the Southern Spine!”

The Arch-Duke’s guard entered the throne room with one guard for each of the eight pillars. Hurius ignored them. None were strong enough to worry him, their levels barely in the mid-nineties. Instead, he kept his gaze on the elderly man in a simple bright blue robe with silver trim who followed them.

Hurius didn’t bow, no he didn’t bow to Quotz worshiping scum.

The two guards closest to him lowered their spears, “Bow for the Arch-Duke!”

Hurius sneered at the guards, “You dare raise your spear towards a prophet of Dhinir.”

The old man lowered himself carefully into the throne but when he spoke his voice filled the room, “Enough.”

The guards returned to a ready posture instantly but Hurius could see the frustration on their faces.

“So even in failure, Dhinir has chosen you as his next prophet…” Alden leaned back into his throne and grasped the end of his neatly trimmed and braided white beard, just above a silver band engraved with the runic symbol of Quotz.

“Strange that Dhinir chose you… I know of many more suitable replacements for that fool Sigward.”

“You think your opinions are worth more than my lords. You walk a dangerous line, White Mane. Tell me, how is your granddaughter? I’m sure her mana studies must be going well. Right?” Hurius growled.

Alden’s neutral expression didn’t change but his eyes darkened, “What do you want Hurius? I am not interested in any other games. I can arrange a space mage to return you to Van’darai.”

“In time. My god has business he wishes me to see to,” Hurius grinned, he had been waiting for this, “Where might I find the filth-turned-noble, Darian Lesta?”

The memory of his true lord's words flashed into Hurius’ eyes as he watched Alden’s neutral expression twist into a frown.

You are my chosen…

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Dhoerin walked through the grand library of Quotz’ domain, huge shelves of silver embossed marble held endless rows of tomes. The shelves ran beyond the sight of mortals but Dhoerin smiled at the obvious trickery at display.

Most days he would stop and read a few passages here and there but today was not one of those days. As usual, his brother had fucked everything up. Well, it wasn’t really his fault but Dhoerin chose to blame him anyway.

“Quuuoootz… We need to taaaalk!” Dhoerin dragged out the words mainly because he knew it annoyed her. She already knew he was here.

“I know why you're here brother…” Quotz stepped from behind one of the countless rows of shelves, her stark white hair framed an equally pale face and sharply pointed ears, the keepsakes of her origins. Dhoerin knew he looked dreadfully mundane by comparison but that was half the fun.

“Then what’s the plan? I have people in place in the empire’s capital.”

“We must not act too hastily. We can not risk accelerating Dhinir’s plans,” Quotz said evenly, “Were you able to inspect his path?”

“Yes. It’s not looking good. Time is short I’m afraid,” Dhoerin sighed.

“How much time?”

“Hard to say. Each of the paths is collapsing at varying speeds. Just viewing the place accelerated it and never mind the backlash I got from the system when I took a peak.”

Quotz shook her head and the rows of bookcases blurred. The softly lit shelves of the domain parted revealing a sunlit balcony with two silver loungers. Quotz always did like her silver.

“That we have no control of. For now, he must hope that fate moves in our favor despite our transgressions,” Quotz led him Dhoerin to the balcony. He of course fell into the lounger, stretching his arms over his head but his sister stood as she always did.

“Has he learned of our deception?”

“Nah, not definitively at least. Maybe if he was better at wordplay he would have figured it out. What about the forge? Will it make it?”

A golden flash that dominated the false sky above the balcony ended their conversation. Dhoerin felt the urge to bail while he could, but he knew it was pointless.

Dhinir has entered this divine domain…

An instant later Dhinir was standing beside them. Dhoerin feigned surprise, “Oh my g.g.g.god it's you! God!” He didn’t feel like putting the effort into doing the appropriate pose so he didn’t bother standing up.

Dhinir ignored him, “It saddens me that you both have once again evaded my summons.”

Dhoerin grimaced Dhinir never showed anger but Dhoerin could feel it radiating off his brother with each word, “It must have slipped our minds. We were just discussing some of the texts from the Celendri gods. Most of it is irrelevant of course but he had hopes that it might improve our situation.”

Dhinir frowned, “The traitor’s manipulation has spread beyond even his death. When I summon you I expect your attendance. Do not allow it to happen again. Now leave us. I wish to speak with my sister privately.”

Quotz’ expression never changed but Dhoerin knew she was nervous, but eh she could handle herself, “Sure thing brother.”

Dhoerin vanished leaving Dhinir and Quotz alone on the balcony.

“Sister it has been a long time since we have spoken properly,” Dhinir's golden eyes burned, “Let us enjoy each other's company.”