Around Jiehong were the beginnings of morning with roosters and people cawing up a storm. Moving away from the crowd, Jiehong stepped into the alleyway Meow spent most of the conversation. He found no sign of Meow. The sun grew brighter as did Jiehong disbelief at how the whole evening had passed. Their conversation had been pleasant but hardly lengthy. What happened?

Gradually, Jiehong heard a sound in his ear. It repeated his name several times. Only after the fifth or sixth utterance did Jiehong recognize the voice of the Screen Master.

"Simulacrum? Is that you? Sorry. I-I... uh, had a rough night?" Jiehong said.

"Jiehong! It is good to hear your voice again. I have been attempting to call you non-stop. I tried to warn you about the reality warping nature of eldritch associations. I was not in time, unfortunately, and you lost the evening to that entity. The one you know as Meow," Simulacrum said.

"Is that a bad thing?" Jiehong asked.

"If you are unprepared, it can be, yes. Those without experience with eldritch associated beings can find much about their lives changed if they do not keep guard. It seems the entity you encountered was not a hostile creature for it stopped associating with you before anything more consequential came to pass. Several hours is nothing compared to several years or even a dissolution of one's physical body."

Hearing the Screen Master speak made Jiehong worried about encountering more eldritch beings. He did not want to let down his family and battle-companions should he be unprepared the next time he met an eldritch association and inexplicably lost himself just as people needed him most.

"We will talk about eldritch self-defense techniques later when you and Zan return to the command center. It is not something which can be easily explained and taught over such a distance," Simulacrum said.

Holding him to his word, Jiehong said, "Fine. But we must make this a priority if I am to give it my all to help Zan, the order, and my country."

Ending the conversation with the Screen Master, Jiehong came from the alley and brought himself to a growing crowd.

Looking to the sky, the sun told him it was midday. Jiehong saw the Slipstream and chanted holy to gain its magical energy. It felt good to feel so invigorated. Being midday, Jiehong belatedly realized why so many people were about: the lunch hour. And the hour where outside merchants are allowed into the city for a few hours. Jiehong made his way through the backstreets and back into the main avenue. There, he saw a beleaguered bunch of civilians' streamed into the city. Flanked on all ends by battered troops, Jiehong forged his way to the column's top where he saw none other than Colonel Winters at the head.

If Winters was here than Whiskey must be close by, in which case, Jiehong figured, the echo-beetles might be functional again. Jiehong commanded a line to open. He said, "Whiskey. Can you hear me? It is Jiehong. Whiskey?"

Moments of cackle passed. Then, a rush of static. Within the static came definition. Tones formed to word. "Jiehong? Jiehong! Where -- what happened to you guys? Can you hear me?"

Jiehong answered right away. "I can hear you! Whiskey. I am by the main gate. Where are you? We need to regroup."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Whiskey and Jiehong then arranged to meet. Minutes of yelling key words into the bustling bazaar passed. The key words were to make themselves distinctive in the murmuring crowd. Gradually, through the echo-beetles, and their voices, they spotted each other. Five final minutes of fighting the crowd, which seemed to move in whatever direction they needed to move to find one another, and Jiehong brought Whiskey into a hug.

"I am not used to city life! I thought we would never work through the people -- there's so many!" Whiskey laughed.

"I feel the same. From what Zan has told me about you, you must come from a similar background as us, right? To me, a large crowd is anything more than two or three dozen people. Our village growing up only had so many people."

"Yes. My village was close to another village. My people tolerance is slightly higher, but not by much. Nothing like this!"

Finding a quieter area to scope out the best route away from the tangled masses, both searched the square. Unsurprisingly, Whiskey found the quickest path based on where Jiehong said he wanted to go. Across the street and to Zan. He could find his way back to Marsha and Mimsy's flat, if they could cut through the main road. With horses, carts, and people and their animals, it was much more difficult than one might initially imagine.

Insisting upon themselves like a phalanx, Jiehong used his girth to nudge a path for he and Whiskey. Whiskey followed in his step's shadow, always within reach, moving upon her instruction as they braved the instantaneous challenges of traveling through a busy city street.

Navigating the chaos with hardly a few bumps and bruises, each of them breathed a sigh easier knowing the worse was behind them.

Jiehong escorted Whiskey through the tangle of backstreets which he had grown to know over the last few days. He caught Whiskey up on the battle he and Zan encountered once they boarded the airship. Then the crash. "And then we moved through the countryside. Zan on my back, fighting his mana sickness and the parasite-thing-in-us which was tearing him apart. We went through a weird cloud. That was maybe an Eldritch being? But I don't know what to think about anything right now because the person who told me it was an eldritch being was a shapeshifter cat-person-guy... Zan is stable, though. That's good."

Whiskey listened to Jiehong with increasing shock. By the end of his tale, she clearly felt profound for their trials.

"We had it much easier," Whiskey said. "Once the airship was out-of-sight, chasing you and Zan, I guess, and then crashed, it was far away from the colonel and myself. We were attacked by groups of automotrons, yes, but with our many skilled warriors, we fended them off; when the airship veered off-course, huge groups of the golems followed in its wake. Some of us wanted to launch an attack on the retreating golems, but their number was so many, Winters thought it prudent to flee while we could and go to the city. We encountered no eldritch being. Our actual journey was fine. Just boring. And long. We've been marching non-stop to get here."

Walking down the final street and into the mudbrick building where Zan rested, Jiehong felt it impossible not to dwell on how different their experience had been. Although the encounter with the eldritch beast had been as terrifying as it had been abstract, he had (somehow), through some bending of space and time, arrived at Hope-Ridge days ahead of Whiskey and the Colonel. Meanwhile, Whiskey's journey post-crash, were inconsequential. A boring trek through seas of trees.

"You lucked out. What I wouldn't give for an easy time. Then again, if you're still wanting to join our cause, you'll be feeling the pain of a power crystal infusion yourself here soon enough. So, I won't begrudge the universe. I'm paying my karmic dues. Which means, I should be owed a break pretty soon," Jiehong said, laughing at his lot in life. Mostly kidding, though.

"I've heard Zan talk about it. And your own infusion, too. It sounds painful. Is it really worth it?" Whiskey asked.

"Call me a fool to believe someone who came with the building and who is made of fancy light, but the Wardens seem true to me. For joining the order, you receive access to powerful weapons. Our exploits on the battlefield are only possible because of our advanced equipment. I have figured once we master these weapons we will be near unstoppable. Against golems, anyway."

Whiskey nodded along. "Sounds like sacrifice. I think that is exactly what I need right now."