WITH REWARD IN HAND, Zan and Company therein rested themselves at Hope-Ridge for another day.

"What do you guys want to do?" Zan asked his friends.

Whiskey put forward another day of individual study. "We each are consummating new futures. Perhaps the most mature thing we can do is to push ourselves all in?"

Zan reflected on an afternoon of talking to people. "Jiehong? Thoughts?" Zan asked, hoping he had an excuse for them.

Jiehong, about ready to put on his exo-suit, stopped and said, "I was thinking we would get a move on. Whiskey's bending to staying a day. Should we do stay another day, I think we should see the sights."

"You mean like the thousand-shades of brown which the mudbrick architectural style is famous for?" she said, joking.

Not letting the joke get to him, Jiehong said, "If we stay, we should have fun. That's what I mean. Fun or travel."

Stepping in, Zan said, "I am fine with staying another day. Unless you really think we should be getting back, let's go have some fun."

"Hey, I never say no to fun. Let's do something edifying!" Jiehong said.

From there, a debate occurred on the day's content. "Edifying just means educational! I want to do something fun." Zan had to agree with her; "Let's do something fun," he said. Jiehong looked defeated by in the good way. "Fine. We do something fun. But I am going to pester people with questions every step of the way!"

They spent the day seeing the few sights worth seeing in Hope-Ridge. The mayor's house, painted in colors, attracted anyone's attention: Jiehong asked about its history and where they received their paint from, as if it mattered; then they visited the township's walls and met the city guard who patrolled the streets: Jiehong asked the predictable questions, such as when the guard was founded and who found it.

They finished the day with a stop by a festivities tent in the town's center. Jiehong paid their way. For several hours they were allowed to partake in quality herb and botanical drinks while talking and playing simple games with the other attendees.

Their day out had been enjoyable for everyone. When the sun set, Zan elected for them all to retire early. "We have a long journey ahead of us," Zan told his companions back in the inn.

Everyone rested. They tuckered out early and slept in late. They left mid-morning and spent all day walking along the roads leading to the north.

"I wonder what colonel Winters is going to do..." Whiskey asked.

"Why would you care? Other than for strategic reasons," Jiehong replied, the total emptiness of their travel starting to weigh him down with boredom.

"Just curious. I'm no longer a rebel, Jiehong. Even if I learned something, I would not, necessarily, send it along to my ex-comrades," Whiskey replied.

"So, there is a chance, then?" Jiehong asked to Zan's annoyance. A conversation like this would only end with huffy hearts.

"Of course. If it was convenient. It is nothing you wouldn't also do, so don't even try to deny it."

No response from Jiehong. Speaking hypothetically, if this wasn't Jie's way of acknowledging Whiskey's assertion and accepting it, then Zan thought Jiehong had a worse time at communicating than he!

The way from Hope-Ridge to their command center was an easy trail despite the war. Though the roads were busy with the movement of columns of soldiers from nearby settlements, not one of the columns men pestered them.

And the enemy... wherever the enemy was, it was clear they had yet to penetrate the king's defensive line. Easy though their trail was, roadblocks did appear along the way. Obstacles which caused the party to sometimes take tiresome diversions. Often, these diversions brought them within reach of a lodestone. By the end of their trek, and thanks to the many diversions, a lodestone marked every major location Zan and Company visited, from Thundervale to Hope-Ridge.

At the end of the sixth day of nonstop travel, he vowed to himself he would think more often of using the Backroads lodestone-based 'quick-travel' network; it might be a one-way portal, but a one-way portal is still a heck-of-a-lot better than a no-way portal. Especially for his feet. Zan had to remember -- the Backroads was a tool. Creepy or not, he had to use it.

Zan's momentary remembrance of the Backroads led him to think of another tool. No. Not 'tool.' His friend, Luxley. He had no checked in with Zan for over a week. I hope everything is okay, Zan thought.

On the seventh day of travel, the command center came into view.

Entering the relative safety of the command center, Zan wanted nothing more than to go and sleep. The many days of travel with little rest did much to drain his stamina. He wanted one of chef Paul-Paul's quality meals with a whole lot of sleeping.

Too much, of course. Simple requests like food and rest were below Zan's measure, it seemed, as he and his friends entered the protected zone and were immediately befuddled by a crowd of refugees. "Who are all of you?" Zan asked. Many more people seemed packed into the safe zone than before they had left. Not one of the refugees had an answer for him; inside, though, the Wardens would have an answer.

"Welcome home, Zan. Jiehong, Whiskey. Before we begin Whiskey's induction, you are curious about the number of people within the base," Screen Master Simulacrum said, his blue-ish and holographic face still fluttering strong upon the high wall.

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested," Jiehong said. "I don't remember this many people in our village..."

"You are correct. The simple answer is this: with the introduction of Mentality's host, many villages near the provincial border were affected by the new enemy legion. In the chaos of not knowing where to flee and which direction was safe, a fair sum of civilians ended up fleeing in our direction. After days of travel, they came to the base's border exhausted and desperate. Since you enabled us to tend to these issues in your absence, and since you have also made clear you did not want to be bothered with these issues, I took the liberty of enacting the solution to their woes. Would you like to counterman my order, sire? Note: every new civilian has agreed to pay the settlement tax; additional note: some families of wealthy means insisted they pay with currency. Understanding the needs of our growing Order from the feed provided, I allowed this. Would you like to countermand?"

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Zan thought about the Screen Master's policy. Thinking about the practical purpose of what would be required of him to rebuild this Order, Zan said, "No. Fine. Have you taken in everyone who asked? Regardless of their ability to pay?"

"Everyone who has asked has been granted entry. Troublemakers already within the defensive barrier, however, were ejected," Simulacrum elaborated.

It seemed a mess. But what could be expected from people when under terror and desperation? Zan remembered how he felt back in the Wizard Tower, when he and his friends were cut off from Winters. The monsters, their horrible -- dangerous -- bodies writhing in slime. Then the claws and shrieking... the blood.

Facing down those monsters? Zan had never been more scared. He would've done anything to survive. Still, troublemakers cannot be abided by. Not when Zan intended on rebuilding a Martial Order. Orders are known for many things, chief amongst all was discipline.

"Continue this policy," Zan replied. "Screen Master. Sigma-Prime. Once I have the translated list of bunker locations, activating those bunkers and defending the region will be my one and only goal. Fighting alongside Winters, seeing a bit more of the Kingship. Seeing more people... I am getting feelings. I don't think these bunkers are going to 'dance the night away' with me. I am going to have to fight for them, aren't I?"

"It is likely bunkers like the ones you have learned about are centered within the lives of the region's current inhabitants. Even dormant, they possess power cores of immense idle radiation. By the virtue of one existing, the natural magics of the land would be more potent. Which would lead to fertile crops. Among other boons. I cannot say, however, if the property will be difficult to obtain. If we are lucky, it will be unclaimed. For the purposes of rebuilding the Order, you will have to secure the property rights through some means, regardless of whether people already live there or not," the Screen Master explained.

"Some means? What do you mean 'some means'?" Zan asked in true ignorance.

"To clarify: either through negotiation or force, activation of the bunker cannot begin without dominance over the land. Your control over the bunker must come with the land and it must be seen as 'true' by the local inhabitants. Think back when you activated the Command Center. By chance, the ruins of this Center corresponded to your village's rule over the local terrain. You were able to activate it because you -- in some way -- had already possessed control over the land. I suspect this is why this Center remained unclaimed for so long, because no one on the land understood what existed under the soil or had reason to claim it if they did suspect."

"Why? J-just... all of that," Zan asked, sputtering, as he couldn't even begin musing on why he couldn't activate the bunkers and be done with it. Did he truly need to file papers and mess with the tax man?

"According to Holy Law. As passed by the Celestial Assembly, Motion 10, States all Life Forms and Kinds must adhere to True Status principles when engaging in Lively Activities. Falseness cannot be promoted." The Screen Master explained in his signature dead tone.

"Okay. I understand. I guess. Gods say directness is key. What does this mean, though?" Zan asked, triggering a conversation with the Screen Master which made him feel like he was back in Winters's military class at Hope-Ridge.

At the end of the exchange, Zan learned Holy Laws covered general action in the world but did not prevent actions so as long as the actions would not lead to death. Should a False Action be attempted, in the air, would linger a sense of Falseness which reflected un-true social relations in knowledge and action. This 'falseness' was like an existential marker.

Or to sum it up: own the property properly, act in accordance with Law. Martial Orders might not deal with religious practice, yes, but they are governed under principles of Goodness opposed to Monstrosity. So, Martial Orders, according to the Screen Master, get 'grandfathered' in when it comes to True Status issues.

This did not bother Zan at all.

"Rebuilding the Order means securing territory and ground. It means being respected. It means being our goals have not changed."

"Well stated, Zan. Trouble is something you are wise to expect with the bunkers. Now that you are updated on the situation in the defensive perimeter, do you have any instructions for governance?"

"Continue the policy of allowing in anyone we can support. Tax each one, whether through labor or funds. I will allow refuge for everyone but only to a point. Speaking of which, if we continue expanding the base's capabilities, would it be possible to extend the defensive perimeter? And yes, I know! I remember the holy law stuff. Whatever -- but still, is it possible?" Zan asked, uncharacteristically angst-ridden.

"Of course. To expand Center operations, you will not need any additional compliance with Holy Law. I can sense the outermost level of compliance a land and its people have to Holy Law. As a low-level Cosmic Being born of Human Intelligence, this is my providence."

"How realistic is base expansion right now?" Zan asked.

"Currently, base expansion is impossible. Labor and the means to fulfill the labor are not in-synch with the base's demands. Holy and Martial specialists are required before base expansion can be planned," Simulacrum said.

"So... how do I get the specialists?" Zan asked, fatigued already at the answer.

"Through an attraction of talent and the petitioning of the local holy affairs council. Petitioning the council can begin right away. However, Martial Specialists will require reason to relocate to our location and provide the Order with labor. Would you like me to compose a brief message on your behalf? Should you encounter a local official, you can request the visitation in-person," the Screen Master asked.

"Can't you just send an echo-beetle carrying the message?" Zan asked of the Screen Master.

"If that is your order, I will comply. I would advise against sending a beetle, however. We do not know if the beetle will make it back in one piece or even find its target--"

"Okay. Fine. I will hand them the message myself, then," Zan asked, waiting for Simulacrum to create the message.

The message 'printed' out from a machine hidden away in the wall, so it looked as though a random part of the wall had suddenly spurted out a white piece of parchment, like the sole white hair on an aging man's face. Zan took the message and stashed it in his satchel.

"Cool. Very cool. I'm happy we got that super-serious stuff out of the way. I can see Jiehong and Whiskey have fallen asleep. Judging by their snoring," Zan said to the Screen Master, not realizing how bored the others must have become to fall asleep as they spoke.

"Verily. In time, as you acclimate to your role as acting grandmaster, these decisions will come more naturally. You will even grow to like them."

"Like making headachingly hard-inducing decisions? I doubt it. Still... long time overdue in finally bringing up representatives of the gods and throne," Zan told the Screen Master. His face flashed hot. Stress bubbled inside of him.

"Long overdue? Considering the extreme and unpredictable nature of your situation, Zan, maybe not. It is not every day one attempts rebuilding an Order while staving off an invasion. Give yourself patience. You have come a long way in a very short time. Do not overextend yourself."

Hearing the Screen Master's warning against overtaxing himself brought Zan back to the ground. "I know. I need to go and rest so I don't do that over-extending thing. I have something to ask you before I get my sleep: what can you tell me about the military situation? Mentality was unexpected... to say the least. What happened with his host? Can you pick them up using your echo-location sensing pings? Whatever?"

"I sense only vague impressions upon the physic manifold. Knowing you would want an answer to this question, I diverted computing power to run simulations and provide an educated guess: after the airship crashed, Mentality's automotron host dispersed into the countryside. I suspect many golems are lying in wait throughout the woods, waiting for regroup orders," Simulacrum said.

Sighing, Zan said, "That's not good. Is there anything we can do?"

"Locate Mentality."