Ranvir tensed as mana flared into the sky, but none of the others reacted. Impossible shapes of finely wrought ice shot into the air. Harsh jagged figures of black obsidian played contrast to the intricate frost. Light shattered and whirled around the displays, using lights to emphasize and change certain patterns.

It was a fine show that also doubled as a display of power without being outright threatening. He only detected three masters among the soldiers arranged before him, including the Second-In-Command Idrees.

However, beyond them, Ranvir sensed a multitude of activity within the estates themselves. Tethered and regulars milling about, rushing to stations. An especially strong Twin Master generator welled up within the building. For a moment, the building’s regular appearance seemed almost incongruous with the glacier of frost and snow that towered spiritually above them.

Idrees and the other masters were approaching, waving for them to come forward as well. The Second-In-Command was almost as tall as Sansir, meaning he stood even above Ranvir’s Graywing augmented height. His darker skin tone spoke of Ankirian descent and when he opened his mouth, he spoke with a heavy Kisi accent.

“Welcome to the Estate of Asmar al-Firman, Commander-General of the Sleeping Sons and…” he trailed off awkwardly, as if catching himself wrong footed. “I recognize Cloak Sansir, and of course the honored second son of house Starstone.” He bowed to Grevor. “I see you are, or perhaps were, one of my fellow countrywomen.” Pashar nodded her head politely in return, muttering a greeting in Kisi.

Idrees’ green eyes lingered on Ranvir’s, before he examined the rest of him, taking the bird arm and wings. “I believe your reputation precedes you. You are Ranvir, principal of the new school, right?”

“I am,” Ranvir said, offering his hand. Idrees smiled and shook it. His spirit felt in some ways even sharper than Esmund’s. That he was a warp-tethered was woven through him as strongly as any tethered Ranvir’d ever seen, but he had clearly seen many hours training underneath the eyes of a specialist.

“I’m afraid we weren’t expecting any visitors,” Idrees said.

He notably didn’t introduce either of the masters with him, though Sansir offered a brief bow and a muttered, “Commander Tulaiha,” to the woman.

“If I may inquire as to why you’ve arrived? I am to understand that your school is quite far away from here.”

“Sansir,” Ranvir gestured. “has a proposal for which he will need both of our help,” He’d discussed with how to approach it with Pashar beforehand. It was Sansir’s idea to represent, but Ranvir would be fitted into the leadership role. Whether by reputation or his position at the school. So he kept the initial explanation brief.

Idrees guided them into the manor, explaining that they’d be staying in a waiting room until the Commander-General could see them. As they walked through the halls, they passed more of the staff. The untethered came in all shapes and sizes, mostly Ankirian with short hair and military dress cut like Sansir- and Idrees’.

The tethered were a little more diverse, ranging from features as dark as Ankirian’s got to some lighter than Sansir. They trended taller than average and all had either green or orange eyes, no exception.

A man of a height with Ranvir walked past them. He could’ve passed for Sansir’s Ankirian cousin, yet with full hair and a stouter frame. His severe face twisted into a faint scowl as he stared into the middle-distance.

Ranvir let a passing glance rove over the decorations. He usually cared little for such matters, but after being forced to bedeck the school, it fell to his eyes more readily. Some passageways held two distinct styles from others, most were distinctly Elusrian with tapestries and perhaps a fancy vase or two. Other halls held long painted tile murals that roamed the width of the halls.

The artistic expression wasn’t so easily extracted as the Elusrian tapestries. He could guess his way to some events, but many of them seemed more symbolic representations of stories rather than depicting the actual events.

Finally, Idrees reached a waiting room suitable for them and showed them inside. “A servant will be here shortly with refreshments.” He offered them a smile and shut them out.

All of them, except Pashar, tensed when the door shut, enclosing them in a space. Ranvir searched the containment quickly, cursing to himself that he’d allowed them to trap them. They’d cunningly hidden the technique, knitting it through the regular weave until the door activated the effect.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“It’s not a trap,” Ranvir said shortly, letting the others calm down. It inhibited their senses and provided a warning should they attempt to leave. On principle, he tore the effect down. It had been made by a second-stage tethered, but his stronger spirit and manipulation tore it apart in moments. “Anchored to…” Ranvir muttered, tracing tiny glyphs engraved into walls of the room.

They were small enough that most people wouldn’t bother hiding them, yet they’d still secreted them away as best they could.

“Interesting that someone as precise as Idrees would still bungle such a simple line after so long,” Pashar remarked. Her back was turned to Ranvir, looking at Grev and Sansir, who sat themselves on opposite ends of the couch.

Looks like they’re fighting again, Ranvir noted as he tore away from his musing. Can’t afford to dive too deep into theory. Not here. He warned himself.

“Bungle?” Ranvir asked, earning a sideways look from Pashar. Something in her posture suggested that she’d been intending to pull him away from his examination. Part of him almost wanted to turn back just to spite her.

“When introducing the Commander-General,” Sansir said. Despite the plush look of the couch, it must’ve been terribly uncomfortable judging from his posture.

“Asmar al-Firman used to be thirty-second in line to the throne.”

“Used to be?” Ranvir winced.

“Kind of hard to be in line for a throne that doesn’t exist anymore, don’t you think?” Grev was grinning amusedly at him.

Ranvir rolled his eyes and grinned back. Grev had needed little explanation before he agreed to come. Understanding that it was part of Sansir’s plan and that he’d been willing to agitate Ranvir was enough. Grev seemed unaffected by the tension between them, whereas Sansir appeared as if on a knife’s edge.

The broad strokes of Sansir’s plan involved using the school as a trap for the Purists. Their next strike would be as much stronger than the second, as it was stronger than the first. Then the Sleeping Sons would pincer the Purists against the school, delivering heavy losses.

Though he was entertaining his friend’s idea, Ranvir hadn’t bought into the plan and Sansir knew it. However, they needed to do something preferable before the Purists moved again. Next time, they would send a force that the school couldn’t repel. The fight with the Masters had been close enough.

Grev and Pashar filled the room with idle chatter as the time passed. Fifteen minutes later, Idrees once more appeared in the doorway, ready to lead them to Asmar al-Firman. The Commander-General met them in what was undoubtedly a war room. Maps of near-lying regions hung on all the walls, as well as Elusria, Ankiria, and the other neighboring countries. Among them, Ranvir noted a few he didn’t even recognize the shape of.

Places too far south for him to ever see. Once, at least.

Asmar was a big man, less than a hair shorter than Sansir and wide-enough that he had to be careful around doors. He was bald. Dark scalp gleaming in the glyph-lights. He wore the same uniform as the others, though he had far more elaborate signs of office. His spirit still rose as a mighty steaming glacier, though he’d toned it down from when they’d initially arrived.

He greeted each of them warmly, as if meeting long-lost friends. Ranvir felt almost surprised that he didn’t go for the hug. The big man shook his hand. “Good to finally meet you, Ranvir. I’ve heard such interesting things about you!” his smile seemed as genuine as any he’d ever seen, the man even patting him on the back as he was let into the room.

Asmar greeted the others similarly. “Ah, young Pashar! It has been too long. It is good to see you.”

“You as well, Commander-General.” Pashar smiled, though she didn’t mimic his warmth nearly as well. Nor did she attempt to, if Ranvir was any guess.

“So,” Asmar said, clapping his hands loudly and rubbing them together. “You came with a proposal?” he looked to Ranvir, who gestured to Sansir. Asmar smiled at his fellow bald soldier and gestured him to the table. “What maps do you need, Son?”

Sansir flinched and ducked his head. “Ankiria and Elusria.”

In a flurry, Asmar fetched the papers for him. Almost hesitantly, Sansir began laying his plans out. The Commander-Generals smiling demeanor faded as he concentrated on the task. Idrees too joined them, though they both let him speak before adding any comments of their own.

In the harsh light of the glyphs, they seemed almost cut from the same cloth. The harsh lines of their faces bent over the table. The unnaturally steady glow of Asmar’s yellow eyes, accenting their green ones as they iterated on the plan.

The moment Sansir finished his explanation, Asmar and Idrees began tearing it apart, Sansir flinching like they were digging into him with knives bared. But instead of dismissing them, they then began building it back up again. Becoming more concrete and improving on the original form. Then, once more, they began tearing it down.

At some point, Grevor moved up behind Sansir, stroked his back. The ice-tethered didn’t seem to notice, but his posture softened noticeably.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Asmar said, all smiles again. “Let’s take a break for dinner, then we can return here.”

Ranvir blinked, straightening from where he’d been leaning into the corner. Pashar imitated him not a foot away as she subtly stretched. Ranvir did not know planning could’ve taken this long. He should’ve brought a chair, and probably Dovar as well. He was good at these things.

“So,” Ranvir asked, somehow finding himself walking next to Asmar. “Do you think the plan will work?”

The man laughed loudly, his voice echoing down the hall. Ranvir winced at the sound, wanting to dodge away from the over-sized, over-joyous general.

“We’re not even ready to discuss if it’s worth attempting yet.”