Rieren supposed she ought not to be frantic. Panic had never claimed her easily, not even when things stood on such fine balance. She might not know when exactly the Aetherians would land on the Mortal Realm, but she was certain it was going to be soon. Apprehending Mercion as soon as possible would be in everyone’s best interest.

The only problem was that she had no clue where he might be. Someone who went missing for weeks, who was presumed dead by most of his social circle, wouldn’t be able to return quietly.

And that had to bother the Gravemark Puppeteer.

Rieren could feel a little smile trying to work out onto her face as she exited the dungeon the way she had come. The Abyssal thorn in her neck would now know what exactly it was like to live in constant paranoia of discovery.

Although, the Sect Leader had been under its influence too, and no one had been the wiser. The monster had also claimed that Mercion wasn’t truly dead. Did that mean it would resuscitate him and use his natural behaviour to fool those around him, while still controlling the majority of his thoughts?

Rieren decided she didn’t really know the first place to look for Mercion, so she headed back to the peak of the Stannerig clan’s mountain. She could try to hunt him down on the Ordorian mountain, but she suspected he wouldn’t be so easy to discover, and she didn’t have time to waste on wild goose chases. Batcat would do better in her place.

No, better to leave a careful message to those she could at least somewhat trust.

“Can you take me to the Clanmistress?” she asked one of the cultivators guarding the Stannerig estate. The weakest among them, usually the youngest ones who had just come free from their Sects were the ones prevented from going out into battle.

“Who’s asking?” the young woman asked.

“Rieren Vallorne.”

They exchanged looks.

“The Clanmistress isn’t here, right now,” the other one said, a short man who looked a little younger than his companion.

“Where is she then?” Rieren asked. “I have an important message to deliver.”

“She’s taking care of her affairs in the Ordorian estate.” The woman’s mouth twisted ever so slightly at the name. “You can head over there, or you can wait, though she isn’t likely to return anytime soon.”

“Why so?”

“She’s now fully of the Ordorian clan. As such, the Stannerig have returned to being under the old Clanmaster for the time being.”

Rieren frowned. So that had been the fallout of that assassination debacle where Avathene had professed that she would take responsibility for the former Ordorian Clanmaster’s death. Strange that she had taken the reins of the clan whose previous leader she had supposedly killed. Rieren couldn’t even fathom what kind of tension was roiling over there.

“Please pass on an urgent message for me,” Rieren said.

“Do we look like messengers to you?” the woman asked. “Pass your message by yourself.”

“We’ll ignore the insult,” the man said. “As you’re a guest of the clan. For now.”

Rieren ignored their blustering and went on anyway. “I have discovered what has happened to Lord Mercion. If you value your hides, you will tell Clanmistress Avathene this with utmost urgency and discretion.”

Their eyes had gone wide at the bomb Rieren had dropped. She didn’t need to add that the situation she had put them into wouldn’t be kind to them if they didn’t comply. If Avathene learned that they were the reason she was learning such vital information later than ideal, she would extract due punishment.

“What has happened to him?” the woman asked.

“I cannot reveal it so blithely here and now,” Rieren said. “Ask your Clanmistress to meet me as soon as possible. The fate of the Shatterlands depends on it.”

“How do we know you aren’t fibbing?” the man asked.

The woman’s immediate excitement had cooled and her expression grew skeptical as the man questioned Rieren. “Yes. That’s quite the claim. Even if you think you’re speaking the truth, we have no guarantee you’re not embellishing something not worth anyone’s time. The Clanmistress is deathly busy at the moment. Disturbing her for nonsense wouldn’t be wise.”

“I am an honoured guest of the Stannerig clan, yes?” Rieren said, looking them both in the eyes. “Are you saying your clan is in the habit of granting guest rights to one who is untrustworthy?”

That insinuation was bad enough. With how both cultivators recoiled, they understood it well enough. But Rieren wasn’t about to let it go without hammering the point home.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“You are also still working under the assumption that it might be worthless,” she said. “Imagine if it isn’t. Are you willing to take the chance that you are depriving the Clanmistress of vital information, something that might change all our fates?”

“You could tell the Clanmistress, if you wished,” the woman said.

“No. I am not a member of your clan. I do not have the same ability to go wherever I wish. I am a guest. This, for me, is a kindness. For you, this is an Abyss-cursed duty.”

The cultivators were silent for a moment, absorbing Rieren’s words with silent chagrin. Then the man spoke, clearly defeated.

“What would you have us say?” he asked.

“Simply what I said before,” Rieren said, trying to keep her tone neutral and not annoyed. “Tell the Clanmistress that Rieren Vallorne has important news about Lord Mercion’s whereabouts, and that he is the key to our survival. I will be at the peak of the mountain, continuing my cultivation.”

With nothing further to say to them, Rieren walked past them and their estate, continuing onwards to the peak. She found Kalvia cultivating in the same spot she had left the other woman.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Rieren considered her answer for a moment. “Yes… and no.”

Kalvia stood up and stretched, smiling a little. “I think I need a break from cultivating. Perfect time to be regaled by whatever glorious tale you’re about to tell.”

“I need to get started on my cultivating. Not tell tall tales.”

Kalvia headed over to her tent and then threw herself on top of the little camp bed. “Stop being rude, Rieren. I know you want to tell me everything. I’m only indulging you. So come on. Cough it out.”

“What I want is to cultivate.”

Kalvia fluttered her eyelashes prettily. “Please!”

Rieren groaned. “Fine.”

Kalvia clapped as Rieren joined her just outside the tent. It was too small to hold more than one person. Well, unless they wished to keep only indecent space between themselves, of course. The way Kalvia was grinning, she knew exactly what was going through Rieren’s mind.

“Why don’t you come inside?” she asked. “It’s comfier.”

“If I come inside, I will not be able to exit.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you will.”

Rieren glared. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

Kalvia’s grin just grew wider. “Ha! I knew you couldn’t wait to tell me everything. Go on, then.”

Rieren quickly explained what she had seen in the dungeon and what she had subsequently learned from the Gravemark Puppeteer. The connection between what she had learned about the Aetherians’ arrival and the sword that Mercion had in his possession turned Kalvia’s sprightly expression a little grimmer.

“This is tense.” She was sitting up now, hands in her lap. “You have no way of finding him?”

“Batcat is on his tail. Hopefully, it will return soon with good news.”

“Hopefully. But even if we do find him, things are going to be complicated.”

Rieren had no doubt they would be. After all, Mercion was now the head of the Ordorian clan. The Clanmaster in all but name, simply by virtue being the only scion left alive. Kalvia was right. Even when they found him, they were going to have to be careful about how they handled the situation.

“Do you have any idea how long they might need to get the message to Avathene?” Kalvia asked

Rieren decided not to comment on Kalvia’s direct use of the Clanmistress’s name. It wasn’t like she was much better with ignoring Mercion’s Lord at times. Though in her case, at least she was somewhat familiar with Mercion.

“I asked a few of the cultivators to deliver a message,” Rieren said.

“You’re trusting random cultivators?”

“Well, I impressed upon them the importance of it.”

Kalvia tutted. She pulled herself off her bed and took a few steps away from her tent. Then she summoned her Domain.

It was, unsurprisingly, a large tree. Though, Rieren got the sense it could have grown even bigger if Kalvia had let it. As it was, it grew to about the size of a large oak, its bark the colour of the deep forest green with ocean-hued leaves. The strangest thing about it was the flower, however.

Rieren sucked in a short breath when the flower not only unfolded, it pulled itself entirely off the branch. A little bird fluttered overhead, its wings made of the same deep-blue leaves. Its head was a bright, red-and-white flower, and its twiggy body was covered in feathers that looked like smaller leaves newly sprung. The sharp little beak looked entirely wooden.

“Is that your Domain Summons?” Rieren asked.

“Correct.” Kalvia held out a hand for the strange bird to land on her forearm. It nipped her hand affectionately. “Rieren, meet Kindling. Kindling, this is Rieren. Listen to her, alright?”

“Kindling?”

“Tell her your message, Rieren. And to whom she has to bear it. She channels a similar ability as the Spirit Beast messengers, so she won’t have trouble finding the target no matter who it is.”

Rieren decided to get over the surprise of talking to a tree-bird. “Even if the target is on the other side of the Elderlands?”

“Even then. Though, that’s naturally going to take a lot longer.”

“I see.”

That was powerful. For a Domain Summons to exist so far from the area of the Domain itself was normally unheard of. They needed a Domain to stay active and alive. But Rieren suspected that Kindling wasn’t that strong on its own, nor had many great capabilities that could assist in battle. It was more of a utility summon.

“Go on,” Kalvia said. “We don’t have all day.”

She was right. Rieren quickly formulated much the same message she had given to the Stannerig cultivators. Then she told the bird the message’s intended recipient.

“Take it to Silomene Tarciel,” Rieren said.

Kalvia blinked. “Her? What for?”

“I will trust the Clanmistress will receive the message in time from the cultivators.” Rieren recalled just how much she had impressed the importance of it to the cultivators. She trusted they would make quick work of it. “It is best we acquire a different path of taking care of the matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kalvia, Silomene is the one who knows Mercion best. If anyone in this city knows where he might have gone, it will be her.” Kalvia only stared at her. Rieren frowned at her, then unable to bear the silence, she spoke up. “What? I believe my plan is quite sound.”

“No, no your plan is perfect. I’m just… I don’t think you’ve ever said my real name like that before.”

Now, it was Rieren’s turn to stare at her. “That is what is passing through your mind at the moment?”

She nodded vigorously. Rieren shook her head. Kindling had already taken off, flapping its leafy wings as it headed downslope.

There wasn’t much to talk about afterwards. Kalvia still wished to discuss the potential political fallout of the situation with Mercion and how they were going to handle all that, but Rieren dismissed it. She had some cultivating to perform.

The air was redolent with Vital essence. Rieren could feel it. She was this close to reaching Peak-Enlightened. Rieren was letting nothing stop her from reaching it.