Ark and Mino found their way to the mess hall on their own, walking in on a new hubbub. Rows of tables were filled with guild members, all dressed in the sand-colored uniform. There had to be at least three hundred people, and the mess hall was far from filled. The sound of chairs scraping against the floors, and the clatter of utensils, filled the room.

As they walked down the center of the room, they spotted only a few of the seated patrons wearing the white armband with the intersecting blue and orange rings, signaling that they were riftwalkers. “Not many of them, huh?” Mino observed, nodding as they passed a group where only a single one of them carried the armband.

“They’re probably just like Matthews,” Ark said, trying to subtly look for prosthetics, “I doubt Lowtown is a dream posting for a riftwalker, even an injured one.” The guild would have headquarters in Upper Reach, and another building in MidCity that would both have a lot more comforts than Lowtown.

“Those who are doing the fighting will be stationed in outposts, across the realms, I’m guessing.” Ark stepped into the line for food, picked up a tray and got to pick from an assortment of delicious food in a buffet-styled court. Newly cooked pasta with a thick and meaty sauce, freshly baked bread, and choice slices of meat; all of it a cornucopia of delights that either of them had not seen during their time in Lowtown.

It made them both stop and hold up the rest of the queue, as they wondered at the sights. It was here, in this moment, after all that had happened this day, that reality set in.

“We actually made it,” Ark said, breathless.

“Yeah,” Mino agreed, savoring the moment.

“Oi, are we going to stand here all day,” someone interjected into their quiet moment of reflection. Both Mino and Ark turned their heads to find a boy their age, with thick, brown curls set at the top of his head, and blue eyes looking accusingly at the two culprits for the delay.

“Sorry,” Ark said, and quickly picked up some foodstuffs, selecting what few he recognized. Mino was just as quick, and they were soon out of the buffet and looking for a place to sit. They spotted a pair of open seats by a window, overlooking the plaza below, and had gotten all the way to sitting down, before they realized they had been followed.

Setting his tray down next to Mino’s, the blue-eyed boy sat down with a deep sigh, and started digging into his food, ignoring the stares Ark and Mino gave him. After another long moment of silence, though, he finally stopped chewing and looked up at them, one after the other. “What?” He said, still with some food in his mouth.

“We’re just… Who are you?” Ark said, moving from one thought to the other.

“Douglas Murraine,” he said, chomping down food as he spoke, “But everyone calls me Dougie, or just Doug.” He stopped for a moment and aimed his fork in Ark’s direction. “Not dog, D-O-G, but Doug, with a ‘u’, understood? I’ll bite your nose off if you get it wrong.” He laughed at his own joke, then returned to eating.

Ark and Mino met each others eyes with similarly confused stares. “I’m sorry, Doug,” Ark said, trying to get a hold of the conversation, “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Ark, this is Mino.”

“Yah, I know,” Doug said, still mainly focused on his food, “You’re the new guys that came in through a LoT.”

“A what?”

“Letter of Introduction, it’s a little bit like a lottery, see? So we call them LoTs. You never know if you hit the jackpot, or just a dud,” Doug stopped eating for a moment to wipe his hands, then he proffered it to Ark.

Gingerly, Ark accepted the handshake. Once they’d shaken thrice, Doug offered Mino the hand, and they shook as well.

“It’s nice to meet the two of ya. You’ve got my bet.”

“Thanks,” Ark said, unsure what that meant, “So, are you a trainee, like us?”

“Oh no,” Doug shook his hand, then went back to eating, “I work in the armory. I saw how ol’ Harkon treated ya, and figured you were worth putting my money on.”

“You mean, there’s an actual bet about whether we’re going to make it?” Ark said, slowly catching up to the speed of Doug’s conversation.

“Yup.” Doug smacked his lips, finished with his plate in an instant. “And this one is a doozy, I tell ya. A fellow could make half a year’s wage with the right bet.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ark began to see the bigger picture. “And, of course, you think you’ve made the right bet, or you’re trying to ensure that you have, right?”

Doug looked at Ark and blinked his eyes, then he furrowed his brow and scowled. “Now, just a minute. You think I’m here to scope out my investment?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I might be interested in money, but I’m not a prick, mind you,” Doug said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “No, I heard you had gear, is that right?”

So that was what this was about. Ark sighed and nodded—there was no point in hiding it.

“Where did you get that?” Doug’s eyes shone with an intensity that Ark noted was not so much greedy as it was… passionate.

“Family heirloom,” Ark said, repeating the lie without putting much effort into it.

“Sure, right,” Doug said, clearly not buying it, “Can I see it?”

“In the middle of the mess hall?” Ark raised an eyebrow.

“Aww shucks, no you’re right. Best not whip it out right here, or you’ll have a dozen twitchy veterans scorch you, just out of reflex. So what about later, your room?”

Ark looked to Mino, who just returned half a shrug. What was the harm? The way they had gotten off with their new teammates, perhaps it was worth trying to make some connections in this place.

“Sure, but not tonight. I’ve gotta meet with our instructor after this.”

“Cool, cool,” Doug said, clearly impatient, but not wanting to voice it, “Yeah, you don’t want to keep the Mindsweeper waiting.”

“Mindsweeper?” Ark said, “You mean, Instructor Alistor?”

“Yeah, you know the old game, Minesweeper? It’s like a century old, or something.” Seeing both their blank stares, Doug scratched the back of his head. “Well, they say he always know the right buttons to push, either to make you succeed or blow up—that’s where it comes from. He’s trained some of the best riftwalkers in the guild, but rumor is,” he leaned forward, keeping his voice low, “He’s also fucked a lot of trainees up, like screwed in the head. So keep him happy, hear?”

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Ark filed that information in the back of his head, even as he leaned back with a sigh. “I think that ship might have already sailed.”

“You for real?” Doug looked from Ark to Mino, trying to see if they were joking. When none of them smiled, he also leaned back, eyes closed. “Shit… I’m gonna lose my money, aren’t I?”

----------------------------------------

They talked with Doug until they finished their meals—well, Doug talked, Ark and Mino mostly just listened. He was a veritable font of information, as he told stories about his superiors and co-workers, along with explaining customs and unspoken rules in the guild.

Once they finished their meals, Doug pressed until they agreed to meet up at Ark and Mino’s room the following evening to get a look at the Gear. “Sweet,” Doug grinned and slapped Ark on the back, as they delivered their trays and plates to the dishwasher on duty, “I’m looking forward to it. See ya tomorrow, fellas.”

With that, in much the same manner as he had appeared, Doug was gone. Ark and Mino both looked at the doorway he had disappeared through, somewhat disoriented by the experience.

“He seems nice,” Mino said, quietly, as they walked out of the mess hall.

Ark nodded. “I’m glad we met him. We need friends like that.”

“Agreed.”

They walked back toward the training rooms, where they stopped before entering the hallway with the numbered rooms. “You want me to come with?” Mino asked, looking worried.

“No,” Ark said, squaring his shoulders, “I think it’s best I go on my own. If it goes bad, then he’ll only take it out against me, not you.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Ark,” Mino observed, his large brown eyes narrowing.

“It wasn’t meant to be. Look, this is a chance for me, Mino. If what Doug said is true, then Alistor could be my ticket to get the strength I’ve always wanted.”

“Then, all the more reason for me to—“

“No,” Ark cut him off, facing his friend with all the surety he could muster, “That will only prove that I’m not capable of facing him on my own. I need this, Mino.”

Mino sighed, closed his eyes, then nodded. “Fine, but be careful.”

“I always am,” Ark lied with a smile.

Shaking his head, Mino turned and walked off with a wave, leaving Ark all alone.

Shit, I really am doing this, aren’t I? Ark thought, mild alarm rising in his chest. It had only been a scant hour since he’d had his mind blasted by Alistor, and now he was going back into the lion’s den.

He walked down the hallway, back to room number six, and entered. The tiled training room looked exactly the same as before, only the beach char and parasol was gone. Alistor stood in the middle of the room, flicking through something on a tablet before him, his dress markedly different from before.

Gone were the shorts, shirt and necklace of plastic flowers, replaced with a uniform reminiscent of the ones Ark had seen guild members wear all day. Instead of the regular, sandy colors, though, Alistor’s uniform was a mixture of light and dark greens, interspersed in a camouflage pattern.

He looked up, as Ark approached, still wearing dark glasses. Ark doubted he ever went without those.

“Ahh, you’re here,” Alistor said, flicking his wrist to check on a watch, “And in decent time, too. Excellent.”

“Yes, si—instructor,” Ark said, remembering what Alistor had said about titles.

Nodding, Alistor scrutinized Ark from head to toe. When his observations ended at Ark’s face, he screwed up his face and flexed his jaw, looking like he was chewing on something unpleasant. “So, I promised Matthews I’d make it up to you—“

“For nearly killing me,” Ark noted, daring to cut his superior off.

“Yes,” Alistor drawled and narrowed his eyes, “Interrupt me again, and I will kill you, Tiny. Understood?”

“Understood, Instructor.”

“Good. As I was saying, I’ve promised to make it up to you, but I haven’t decided yet in what form. That all depends on your answers to my questions.”

“Questions, Instructor?” Ark furrowed his brow. It did not seem entirely fair that he had to answer, when he had done nothing wrong.

“That’s right, starting with where you were trained, and by whom?”

Ark worked his jaw, trying to figure out how to best answer. He discarded lying almost immediately, and settled on the only bit of truth he could tell.

“I can’t tell you, Instructor.”

“That is a very curious way to answer, when I’ve just told you your future depends on it,” Alistor said, tilting his head back and forth, “Do tell me why?”

“It’s… classified, Instructor.” The order of classification was from Central Command, itself. Even if Ark dared to breach it for himself, he would land Mino in big trouble if it was ever discovered. He could not take that chance.

“Of course it is. I suppose it’s also classified how you got to be psionically immune to mind attacks?” Alistor smiled grimly.

“It… is… sir.” Ark clenched his teeth, wishing he could give a more satisfactory answer.

“Well, well… That explains a lot,” Alistor said, scratching his chin.

“It does?” Ark said, confused enough to forget to address his superior with a title.

“Yes,” Alistor looked at Ark’s face that was growing more and more disturbed, and waved a hand dismissively, “Oh don’t be like that. You didn’t tell me anything, so you’re not in trouble. It’s the way you didn’t tell me anything that explains it. I’ve got a functioning brain; I can figure things out.”

Ark was not sure how exactly that worked, but Alistor moved on with alacrity.

“So, I’m guessing you trained as a mindweaver because your immunity makes it almost impossible to sense psions, am I right?”

Ark nodded, figuring that was safe enough to admit.

“Thought as much.” Alistor began pacing back and forth, hand combing through his hair as if trying to come to a decision about something. In the end, he stopped and tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the room as if searching for guidance.

Observing from the sideline, Ark just waited patiently. He figured it was safer than disturbing Alistor in whatever train of thought he moving down.

Finally, sunglass-covered eyes fell back on Ark, and he heard the instructor curse in such an inventive manner that he filed several of the phrases down for future use. When he ran out of words to say, he seemed to calm down, face returning to neutral. With a voice as cold as ice, Alistor said, “Are you worth my time, Tiny?”

Ark swallowed. This was it, the defining moment, and he had no answer prepared. Licking his lip, Ark thought back to the first time he had seen Alistor. With a bated breath, he said, “Are you worth mine, Instructor?”

A shallow smile split Alistor’s face; cruel and and predatory, ready to strike at an unsuspecting victim. “It seems we will have to figure that out along the way. If you are what I think you are, you are perhaps the most dangerous one among my trainees, this time around.”

Blinking, Ark could not follow his logic. Was he misunderstanding something?

“You think I’m joking?” Alistor flashed his teeth, his sharp canines shining white in the light from the training room. “Whoever taught you was extraordinarily vicious in their schemes. Oh what a trap… I can see it, feel it, even.” He laughed, his voice tilting slightly to the maniacal spectrum from joy.

“I don’t follow, Instructor. How am I dangerous?”

“How indeed.” Alistor shook his head. “No, I’m not giving you the answer—that would be suicide on my part. Instead, here,” he pulled something out from an inner pocket, holding it up to the light. For a long moment, he watched it, his mouth twitching. Then he threw it at Ark. “Catch.”

Taken aback, Ark barely reacted fast enough to avoid being hit in the head. Using his left arm as a shield, the objected hit the crystal scales underneath his shirt, falling harmlessly down onto the ground.

“If you can figure that out, by next week, I’ll teach you proper,” Alistor said, giving Ark one final glance before he walked off. “And if you can’t, I’m transferring you to a different unit—I’m not about to train a fucking time bomb with legs, not without a reason.”

With those words, Ark was left on his own, to pick up what had fallen onto the ground. There, lying upon the matted tiles of the training room floor, lay a single, silvery coin. Ark bent down and picked it up, studying its faces.

On one side, the image a miniaturized Vanguard was proudly on display, while the other held the figure of an eye. Set into the eye was a small, purple crystal, pulsing with that tantalizing energy that Ark had never been fully able to grasp. Psions glittered from within that gem, within his very hand, and yet Ark had never felt more useless.

What am I supposed to do with this?