Rieren wasn’t surprised when she was cornered by Mercion before they parted that day. Well, cornered wasn’t really true. He simply confronted her on the path to the manor where she and Silomene were staying.

“What in the world do you think you are doing?” he asked. His words didn’t have anywhere near as much heat as they’d initially had with his brother. The set of his mouth was more reluctant than angry. “You cannot simply demand whatever you think is right of the Clanmaster so directly.”

Rieren bowed her head. “I apologize for the impudence. I thought it best to establish our official standing with regards to the Avatars.”

“It’s a complicated matter. There is no official standing. You must understand that we cannot afford to antagonize the imperial court any further than we already have.”

“I understand. But it would be best if we were all standing on the same page. I would not wish to assist the enemies of the people of the Shatterlands, but at the same time, I would not wish to kill those who are supposed to remain unharmed. In essence, I want to know how I should act with regards to the Avatars.”

“Is that so? Could have fooled me into thinking you wanted the Clanmaster to denounce them and take direct action against their intentions here in the Shatterlands.”

“Also,” Silomene said. “You can kill Masked Avatars?”

Rieren froze. Then she laughed. She could kill the weaker ones with the help of the Temporal Recollector she had stowed away, but the stronger ones were beyond her. So, it wasn’t difficult to answer Silomene.

“I wish I was strong enough to take on Masked Avatars,” she said.

Mercion tutted to bring them back on topic. “I don’t mean this in a demeaning way, but please remember your place. We must all act according to our positions in this hierarchy, lest we upset the balance and ruin all that is good in the world.”

Rieren’s expression sobered. She hadn’t gone through her entire previous life to maintain the accursed hierarchy that the cultivators tended to cling to. “I will remember my place, Lord Mercion.”

He didn’t look satisfied at her answer, perhaps noting the tone she had delivered it in. “And what about Gorint Malloh?”

“What of him?”

“He seemed particularly interested in you, unless my eyes were deceiving me.”

“Who is to say, my lord? Fending off men’s interest in me is a new experience. The Sect did not prepare me for such… lasciviousness.”

Mercion stared at her. Then he coughed into his closed fist before turning away. “I will take my leave for now, then. We will likely set out on another little journey soon. I’ve been hearing rumours about some disturbance from the west, though it hopefully won’t be too terrible Take care till then.”

As Rieren headed into the manor, she wasn’t surprised at being accosted by Silomene. The silver-haired woman looked quite animated. Rieren expected to field another series of questions about what had happened, but Silomene proved her wrong.

“Can you believe it?” she asked, her eyes shining. She even took Rieren’s hands and pressed them tightly together, lost in her fascination. “We not only got to meet the Clanmaster, we also met the Clanmistress too!”

“Yes, it was nice seeing her,” Rieren said.

What was nicer was the fact that Clanmistress Avathene had ended the meeting before it could turn too dangerous. Though, it was intriguing that she was the Clanmistress, and not simply the first wife of the Clanmaster. Especially considering her condition. It would seem she truly was running the Stannerig clan like her husband ran the Ordorian clan.

“Do you know what has happened to her?” Rieren asked, referring to how the Clanmistress had fainted before them.

Silomene’s face fell a little. “Well, she hurt herself when she was ascending to Late Exalted. I am uncertain what happened, but her ascension was… disturbed, and Lady Avathene did not come out of it well. She might have stunted her cultivation permanently.”

“Ah. That is unfortunate.”

Rieren had been about to say curious, but that sounded tactless.

“Regardless, her spirit is refreshing, though!” Silomene said brightly. “She refuses to let anything that might hold her back win and continues to do what she believes in. Always nice to see that.”

Rieren smiled a little too. “Well, I am glad you found it enjoyable.”

“Yes! I was not expecting to find myself so enthralled. I certainly wasn’t expecting Lord Malloh to show up as well.”

Rieren led the way around the manor’s exterior until they had reached the edge of the little lake on the grounds. “How do you know the Mallohs?”

“They are friends of my clan.”

“Ah, I see.”

“How do you know them?”

Rieren glanced at Silomene. She was staring placidly across the little lake, though there was a slight intensity to her look as though she was plotting the best route to skip another pebble across. So it seemed she had caught the looks Gorint had been throwing Rieren. Had anyone in that room not noticed? She could only hope that the Clanmaster at least had been oblivious.

“I remember him from the previous timeline,” Rieren admitted. “Our meeting was brief, but I think he still recalls me, it would seem.”

“He recalls you… in an intimate manner?” she asked with a hushed voice, eyes wide and her full attention upon Rieren now. “I did not think you take after… such men. Not that I am judging, of course.”

“No, you are mistaken. I was simply staving off Lord Mercion’s inquisitiveness because I am not sure how much I ought to reveal. In fact, I do not know how to talk of it all with you, either.”

“You can tell me however much or little you deem is necessary.” She turned away with no effort whatsoever. “I don’t need to know the truth.”

Rieren stared at Silomene. She wasn’t lying. It was plain to see. The other woman really had no wish to know every little thing that Rieren might be hiding or withholding.

It was an outlook that Rieren couldn’t completely understand. How could Silomene not wish to absorb as much information as she could learn? There could be a morsel of knowledge that could turn out to be extremely useful to her.

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“Where were you, in the past?” Rieren asked. “When Falstrom fell?”

“I was already dead.”

Rieren swallowed. “Ah. My apologies.”

“Worry not. I wasn’t expecting to survive long. Things were much more difficult before. I’m not sure how everyone ah the system now, but it has been an amazing boon. I wish I could thank whoever allowed things to restart.”

Rieren almost wanted to swallow again. Her heart spasmed with a feeling she didn’t recognize at first. A strange sense of pleasure and satisfaction, but for someone else. She could have understood it for Amalyse or her father or even Elder Olg. But for a weird woman she had only met a month ago?

Or maybe it was a sign she was starting to see Silomene as more than just someone she had to share her space with, as just another companion in battle.

…Was this how friendships started?

“Silomene,” Rieren said. Something in her voice made the other woman look over. “I am glad that you have survived this time.”

Silomene laughed in pure pleasure. “I would say the same, but I suspect you survived quite a lot in the last timeline, didn’t you?”

Rieren smiled. She didn’t answer, but that was an answer all on its own. They retreated to their chambers to rest, deciding it was best to prepare in case Mercion bid them to set out tomorrow.

She was hoping they wouldn’t have to, since she still had the meeting with Gorint Malloh to attend. Her hopes turned true, when all Mercion sent was a Spirit Beast messenger indicating that they would wait another day or two before they set out. They had time to relax or prepare as they saw fit.

Which was excellent for Rieren since she could sneak out to meet Malloh.

She did inform Silomene that she would be going down into the city for a change of pace. Her friend wanted to accompany her, but Rieren asked for some space. It felt a little rude to be excluding Silomene, but she readily understood the need for some personal time, especially since they spent all their days together.

Falstrom felt a little busier when Rieren visited it in the dying light of the afternoon. Maybe the citizens had taken heart in the fact those on the frontier hadn’t let any monsters come in deeper into the Shatterlands, and that the cultivators of the city had held off any meteors that might have fallen into the city.

She couldn’t begrudge them their hope. That they had overcome their fear of the fate Falstrom had suffered in the previous timeline was a great accomplishment.

Some cleaners were sweeping the streets, some workers were repairing a building, and some fishermen were walking to and from the docks where Rieren was heading to. A few of the latter even had catches in their little baskets.

But aside from them, there were small groups of armed citizens who didn’t look like soldiers. They were being led by more professional warriors. Cultivators, guards, and the like.

Oh. Those had to be groups who were being taken to raise their strength and grow more powerful under the guidance of those who knew what they were doing. So Mercion’s plan was to increase the general level of strength of everyone, not just those who were fighting on the frontlines. Well, it never hurt to be prepared.

Rieren found Gorint Malloh at the end of a pier near the western end of the docks. It was the longest pier, stretching out over two hundred paces over the river water.

“I wasn’t certain you would actually come,” he said, turning to her with a little click of his tongue that, as always, sounded disapproving. “I applaud your ambition.”

He was wearing the same heavy fur robe as before. But unlike before, there was what looked like a war hammer strapped to his waist. The sinking sun made his overgrown beard and wild mantle of hair look almost beastly. He was swigging something from the small flask in his hand.

“And I applaud your ability to not be set as a scapegoat for the destruction of this city,” Rieren said.

“Let us not waste time any longer. I am certain we both have important business to attend to. Are your intentions the same as last time, or are you actually feeling contrite?”

Rieren needed a few heartbeats to parse what he truly meant by that. “My intentions are still the same.”

Gorint took another drink from the little flask. A few drops dripped onto his beard. “Then I will know not to count on you when the time comes. I hope you’ve informed the younger fool that you won’t be around for long.”

Fool, was it? She wondered if he really felt that way or if it was the drink talking. Then again, drunks didn’t lie. They simply tended to reveal the truths they normally kept under wraps. “We have established the terms of our partnership, yes. You do not have to worry. But I have a question.”

Another swig. “You’re about to ask why I stopped you from pushing the matter of the Masked Avatar?”

“I am aware the powers that be wish to take a more diplomatic approach to the matter, despite the other side’s disinclination to do so. But what about you, Malloh? Do you intend to surrender yourself if they try to take you too?”

“Did you kill the one who came after you?”

“In a sense.”

Gorint laughed roughly. There was genuine pleasure in his eyes. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You know, you wouldn’t really have to worry about them if you joined us properly. Mercion and the other Ordorians can’t protect you unless you are an actual member of the clan.”

“I was told I would be granted an official entry into the clan once my month of service is finished.”

“Oh, is that so? And you believed them?”

“Is that not what you are doing? Using them to ensure you do not need to confront the Avatars?”

Malloh shook his head like he was talking to a naïve child. He took another drink from his flask. “I am safe because I am here. Right under the shadow of the Ordorians, and the Stannerig, I suppose. I am within the vicinity of their protection. But how long will you be?”

Ah, so that was what he meant. Ultimately, he was riding on the hope that the Avatars wouldn’t go so far as to try and apprehend someone in Falstrom, right under the nose of the Clanmasters. And he had good reason to hope it. After all, there was a far greater chance for the Archnobles to intervene when he was so close.

Unlike Rieren, who wouldn’t be in time. Even if she became an official member of the Ordorian clan, she couldn’t very well expect them to protect her all the way to the capital.

So, in the end, Malloh had meant joining them permanently. In Falstrom.

“I cannot,” Rieren said.

“Of course. Instead, you are going to do the same thing you did last time, yes?”

“And will you? I am yet to hear of the Dreadflood coming here yet.”

“I have no intention of letting that thing get anywhere near as close. Rest assured that the previous calamity will not come to pass. But the question here is you… Rieren. Or should I say, Arianaele? You are quite the paradox. So different, yet still so same.”

He shook his lead, as though it was some kind of waste.

“Why have you not yet revealed my identity to the others yet?” Rieren asked.

He shrugged. “What would I say? That your timely help could have prevented the destruction of Falstrom? That you went on to survive where I faltered and failed.” He frowned. “I don’t even know how long you actually went on to live after my death. Though I do recall you grew quite fearsome.”

“So, you care not about what I might be doing?”

He frowned heavily, though she wondered if it was at her question or if it was because the drink in his flask had run out. “I am curious, yes. Mildly intrigued and more cautious than I’d like to admit. But you see, my every waking moment is not obsessed with understanding every little facet of your existence.”

Rieren snorted. Perhaps she had needed that. A sobering little reminder that the whole world didn’t revolve around her.

It was time for her to get going, though. Their meeting had gone on long enough.

“Do I need to worry about you, Malloh?” Rieren asked.

Gorint Malloh peered at her from under bushy eyebrows. “Are you threatening me, little girl?”

“I do not have time to waste on making threats.”

“True enough, I suppose. You’re more interested in killing things before they become threats. Well, you can’t kill me now, can you? You’re not strong enough. So there.”

“I could. That is not the question. The question is whether I will need to.”

Gorint Malloh stared at Rieren, probably wondering how she could kill him if need if she was indeed weaker. Of course, she wasn’t the only one who had advanced rapidly through her class. Malloh had to have done the same, enough so he could stand on par with powerful cultivators.

Though, it did make her wonder how far he had progressed in his cultivation. Classes and cultivation were intrinsically linked after all. One couldn’t advance too far in one’s class without cultivating appropriately, lest one become like Mercion.

Rieren couldn’t even tell what the expression on Malloh’s face was supposed to mean. Then he laughed, long and loud.

“Kill me if you want, then.” He sauntered past her, weaving a little and threatening to fall into the river. “Who gives a monkey’s fart. I’ll either stop you, or I won’t. But if I can’t, I’ll make sure to haunt you until you’ve saved Falstrom in my place.”

Rieren stared at his back. Save Falstrom? He had been the one to destroy it in the first place. Well, forced to, but still. Shaking her head, Rieren headed back towards the manor.