Early on his day off, Sela popped over to Chip’s home to meet with Stone. The smell of fresh pastry mingled with the shantytown constant of fish and woodsmoke as he rounded the last corner. He extended a paw to rap on the door.

“Best not disturb them” Stone said. His voice came from behind. Sela turned, twisting back and setting himself into the ready stance.

Stone moved smoothly around him, inspecting the young otter's form. With his cane, he rapped Sela on the knuckles. Sela was taken aback, but managed not to flinch.

“Easy. You must be like water, ready to move with a moment's notice.”

Stone moved again to whap his knuckles and Sela reacted a bit faster, whipping his paws out of the way.

“Who taught you?”

Stone stared him down, impassive.

“I’m just a guard – I…”

Stone whapped him again.

“You’re never just a guard. You’re a representative of the Company in all that you do. Try that again.”

Sela stiffened.

“I learned at the short course.”

“Incredible,” Stone sighed. “Eight weeks of training and they send you babies out to represent the Company.”

Sela turned to look, and Stone stopped him with the cane. Sela dropped into a bow.

“Teach me.”

Stone hefted a tightly-wrapped pack, tossed it to Sela, and started walking. The pack clinked metallically as Sela caught it.

“I thought you would never ask,” Stone said. “Follow me.”

***

It was around lunchtime when they arrived at the shantytown’s training grounds, and Sela’s stomach grumbled. Stone led them to a wooden dummy, and instructed Sela to set the pack down next to the dummy.

“Otter cracks the rock,” Stone said.

Sela looked at him as if he had sprouted wings.

“Do you know the sword technique?” Stone said.

Sela shook his head.

“Watch.”

Unwrapping the thick cloth of the bundle, Stone revealed a pair of swords, clean and well-kept. He moved through a defensive stance, blocking up, then left and right, pulling the sword close as he stepped slowly through the form. The otter looked practiced, as if he’d done it dozens if not hundreds of times.

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“Now, one step at a time, move through this.”

Stone tossed the cane to Sela and he accepted it graciously, though he couldn’t help but eye the other sword a bit wistfully.

“First step, block the overhead attack,” Stone said, drawing the sword to block a blow.

Sela followed along.

“Next, withdraw, step one, two.”

Sela tried to keep his steps light and spry as he swayed forward and back.

“Now parry, block left and right.”

Stone worked him through the end of the form. It didn’t feel difficult, but Chip would be excited to see him working through it.

“Now swap.”

The sword was handed over to him carefully, the cane tossed carelessly to the side. It felt heavy in his paw.“I’m sorry, but this… this just feels like a rock,” he said, trying to hold it up.

“Otter cracks the rock,” Stone said.

Sela complied.

***

“No, no, no,” Sam said, once again looking up from the table in disgust.

Chip shrunk back, poking sadly at his latest effort. “The bottom of the fish pop is too flaky?”

The pair were in the kitchen again, this time working through the shaping of the fish that Uncle Brit wanted to use for the contest.

“You gotta make those Britpops as I do,” Uncle Brit said. ”With that flaky crust underneath. That’s the way that we’re going to get the blast furnace for the next year. And if we can get the Baron's nod to get the blast furnace, I’ll name my Britpop after, him I swear.”

“You want to call them Cornflower Britpops?” Sam asked, getting up to wash the fish tin.

A whole set of fish tins were on order, and Chip expected them to all come in similar sizes. One was supposed to have a special imprint of a head of corn, just for the Baron, and another was of a little blast furnace. Of course, this all supposed that Chip could nail the quick bake requirement. But that was why they had spent the last two days straight in the kitchen, practicing both the sweet and savory recipes.

Only midway through the second day did their work bear fruit. They had to start outsourcing the tasting to neighbors when the three of them got full, but it wasn’t a problem for Sam, who started interrogating passersby about their meat and fish pie preferences.

***

“Now, burn it and shape it,” Spring said. “Use the red mist.” She paced around her meditating disciple, watching with keen eyes. “Form it, shape it. Build it, shape it.”

River began to sweat. Even as a raven, sweat felt very uncomfortable, but it was a side effect of her powers that she didn’t just sweat like the rest of her kind. The convention had also been, just to sweat through your claws like everyone else. But for druids, burning their magic, their red mist, almost always caused the fight or flight response.

Slowly, a flaming spear formed before the raven. Given life through the red mist, it danced around as if wielded by an invisible warrior.

Spring stomped her feet, watching it move back and forth.

“Good.”

River opened her eyes, a split-second lapse in concentration, and her magic stopped burning.

“Argh!” She took a deep breath, reaching to reignite her internal flame and reforge the spear. A gentle paw on her shoulder stopped her.

“That is good enough for today,” Spring said. “I can see that you’re low on everything, and we need to talk about the final steps in your plan.”

River stood up to stretch her wings and legs. Shaping always left her sore. “I think that our best route is to go for the audience's favorite. We can get more people engaged if we stack the deck in our favor.”

“Let’s do a drawing, then,” Spring said. She withdrew a deck of lacquered wooden cards from her robe, shuffling with a practiced paw. Cartomancy wasn’t River’s strong suit, but it fascinated her, and her mentor’s skill was unparalleled. One by one, they laid out cards.

“High house Nithe… good luck for the seeker,” Spring said, flipping the first card. “But followed by the fool of swords… doubtful. However, the seamstress of grain gives me hope. The mason of Nithe seals it.”

The four cards were laid out beside each other, telling a story for the practiced eye. River looked to her teacher.“What do I need to do?”

“The mason needs to build support through the seamstress. Luck won’t be enough.”

River nodded.