Cadaoir stepped out of the inn and into the slush filled street. His mop of white hair looked as if a drop of the recent heavy snow had fallen on to his head.

The innkeeper shouted a goodbye as the door slammed shut. The windows rattled and the wooden canopy above the door shook off the frost, letting it drop to the wet and icy ground. Cadaoir stepped over the slushy lump and made his way down the street. He was in the snowy city of Hattsu for an important reason, but because of the snow he was two days late.

As all cities were, Hattsu was home to a Soldier's Academy. A place for players to learn the Soldier Job Class and progress up its various branching advanced classes. And as many players did, Cadaoir wished to visit this academy, particularly because of its fame for producing the greatest spear wielding warriors known to the world. Though Cadaoir's motives were very different from others'.

Cadaoir had an appointment, but the snow storms had made travel through the streets dangerous and difficult. He found this out when he first tried to leave the inn. The cold was so bitter that it stung his skin and burnt his face. The wind was so strong that to walk against it meant having your legs pushed from under you. He tried to fight it, but it could have meant his death. The other players at the inn had to drag him back inside, into the warmth and safety. Not because he would not make it to his destination, such was his determination and strength, but because he could only make it by sustaining unneeded damage to his health. They thought it better to wait, but for two days after, those who had helped him had wished that they had not. His mood had been dark and without gratitude throughout. In the end it was a relief for them to see him leave.

The stone buildings glistened with moisture. The roofs shed ice and slush, so the streets became the new bearer of their grey and white slosh. People came out of their homes as the dark clouds broke to blue, finally able to go about their business. Many continuing long journeys to distant places. Some were new players who had waited out the storm, having to stare out of windows with hope of the snow and then the rain passing. Anticipating the time when they could enter the Soldier Academy and begin their training in the Laws of War. Cadaoir found himself walking amongst them, mentally preparing for what was to come. His mind focused, as it always did, and his muscles were vibrating with electric anticipation.

NPC children seeped from doors and even windows. They gathered the remaining snow and tossed it in the air and at each other, even at some disgruntled players. Grey stone walls were dotted with dirty snow, windows were blotted, and faces were sore and red and cold and wet.

Without distraction Cadaoir continued on. His bare feet iced up, his bare arms stung with the cold, his hair crusted with frost. Yet he continued on. The other players were quite surprised and amused at the image of the man. He wore light clothes, and was bare armed and bare footed, walking through one of the most weathered cities in the world. No doubt they had travelled long distances to reach Hattsu, seeing many different people and dress codes and senses of fashion. So it was a testament to Cadaoir's difference to them all when they laughed at him. Cadaoir was apathetic, only focused on the journey he was on. This destination would mark the point where he could move on in the game. Nothing would get in his way, or distract him on his journey, nor sway him from the Path.

It was not too long that he travelled. The high walls of the Soldier Academy rose up ahead. Arched entryways spread consistently around the walls, allowing access to the training yards of the school. Those who were seeking their training began to run towards the complex, happy to finally reach the end of the long road travelled. The white haired loner let them speed on ahead, not desiring what they so desired.

When he reached the academy entrances, he looked over queues of players awaiting entry. Before them were tables with NPC Soldiers and military coaches conducting player registration. They created lists of player names in order to organise classes and training drills.

Cadaoir stood back for some time, watching the lines move. They shortened and lengthened as people completed their registration or new arrivals joined the queues. He analysed every person who passed him by, sizing them up. He looked beyond the queues and in to the yards where the stationed Soldiers conducted their drills and sparring practice, none of which impressed him. When boredom took over, he walked up to one of the large archways and skipped past the line of people waiting to enter. The NPC Soldier ignored his attempt to enter, yet the officer stepped in his way. This was a player, an Amaratese Swordsman, clad in red Samurai armour. He was young of face, but with a salt and pepper beard.

'Hold.' The Swordsman commanded. 'Who are you to just walk in here?'

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Cadaoir stared into his eyes. 'I'm expected.'

The Samurai stared back, although his gaze showed an unsettled mind. Cadaoir's stony eyes had shaken him. 'Identify yourself.'

'...Here.' Cadaoir reached into his grey uniform and pulled out a piece of tattered yellowed cloth. He held it to the face of the other player.

The Swordsman looked and cocked his head to one side. On the cloth was sown the image of a man in kneeling meditation. It was the symbol of the Spirit Temple, where Spiritualists trained. Encircling the symbol were six blue fists, the mark of the fighting Monk. 'You were expected two days ago. Not any more.'

'The snows-'

'Kept many people away, but the strong managed to arrive on time.' The Samurai smirked, though it did not last when he saw the agitated face of Cadaoir.

'I'm expected.'

'Get l-'

'Jin!' A voice came from the training yard behind the Samurai, who turned immediately. It was a young character, maybe the age of nineteen or twenty. Clean shaven with black hair and a light complexion. His eyes denoted a savage and arrogant character. His light armour and sharp spear showed him to be a Spear-man. 'The pilgrim is expected, didn't you hear?'

'Yes, Captain Deluge!' The man bowed.

'Then let him enter!' Young Captain Deluge commanded.

'Yes, Captain Deluge!' The man bowed, then turned his lowered head to Cadaoir. 'Enter, pilgrim.' He returned to his duty as registrar. Cadaoir walked in.

The trainees who had been drilling their combat techniques had stopped to listen to the Captain. Deluge was sat on a bench with one foot curled up on to the opposite knee, his spear balanced across his lap while he polished the wooden shaft with a white cloth. 'You've missed your appointment. Your opponent's moved on, off to support the war effort down south.' He stood and planted his spear at his side. 'But don't worry!' Deluge smiled. 'I've been waiting for you instead!' He bowed, one hand still firmly on his grounded weapon.

Cadaoir looked him over, looked at everyone. They have heard about me. They want to make their name on me. He saw no talent, nothing aroused his desire here. Not until he heard the clanging of metal on wood, sounds echoing off the walls of the yard and the tower at the centre of it all.

At one corner was a dummy made of sand bags and a wooden barrel, hung up at a wooden gallows. A woman Soldier was practising her spear thrusts, not distracted by the Monk's arrival. She was focused and disciplined. Cadaoir strode to her, ignoring whatever else was going on about him.

'Hey!' An angry Deluge was in Cadaoir's face. 'I've been talking to you'

I wasn't listening to you. Cadaoir's eyes spoke the thought. He walked on by.

Deluge skipped ahead and blocked the way again. 'I said that your fight is with me now!' The other players gathered around to watch. 'Prepare yourself, Monk!' Deluge's spear lowered, pointing at Cadaoir's chest.

'Move.' The Monk demanded.

'Are you kidding me?' The Captain laughed. 'You're not going anywhere. Fight!'

The spear was thrust forward at Cadaoir. The Monk shifted out of the way and grasped the shaft as it passed him by, it was as gentle as could be. He pulled the spear without much force, continuing its momentum. Deluge could not contain his hold and the weapon came loose, clattering to the ground behind Cadaoir. The Monk walked on past, paying no more mind to the other. The crowd around him parted.

'You son of a-'

Cadaoir heard the anger and frustration, it was the same every time he defeated someone. He also heard the heavy padding of boots and the swoosh of the spear, no doubt aimed at him

He does not know when he is beaten! Cadaoir pivoted on his feet and came to see the attack coming down from above. He shifted himself to the side as he had done before, but moved forward at Deluge with a quick step. His left hand redirected the spear to the side, removing the danger, while his other hand sprang out simultaneously. A fist took Deluge in the nose, and then his left hand took him in the chest, and then again the right hand in the face.

Captain Deluge, feared Spear-man in this academy at least, training to reach the elite Job Class of the Long Arm, hit the ground before his spear did.

Ignoring the aftermath, the Monk attempted to make his way to the woman again, only to find himself face to face with her. Eventually she had stopped her practice to see what the commotion was about.

Cadaoir wasted no time. 'This man thought he could find his fame on me. No doubt the rumours of my pilgrimage have reached Hattsu.' He looked down at the shorter woman. 'You show discipline and good technique, I saw you. Duel with me.'

The Soldier was surprised. She brushed rebellious strands of brown hair out of her face with one hand, her spear held in the other. She said nothing, but looked at Deluge with scorn.

'This school produces some of the best Spear-men known, this Captain excluded of course.' Cadaoir spoke to the Soldier. 'The Half Lord. Kent. Eshne. Demshir. All recent players and all very skilled. I came to fight another, but you show the same promise in my eyes. Duel me.'

'No.' Said the woman.