Sitting in on the planning meeting was an exercise in pretension. Pretend you were paying attention. Pretend you cared about what they were saying. Pretend you weren’t annoyed when Asmar al-Firman brought in another tactical expert to weigh in. Pretend there was no place he’d rather be.

Ranvir hadn’t been good at playing pretend when he was a kid. He’d arguably gotten worse.

“Eyes open,” Pashar whispered, elbowing him in the side.

Ranvir blinked and straightened from where he was leaning on the wall. Apparently, he’d picked up another unforeseen habit from absorbing Graywing. Sleeping while standing. Or perhaps it was just getting late.

Stifling a yawn, Ranvir looked around and blinked at the harsh pale glyph-light. Another two people had joined the table. More maps had been pulled down. It seemed only Asmar and Sansir remained of the original group. Even then, they didn’t chime in much, only listening as the others spoke.

It took long moments before Ranvir realized it wasn’t just his tired mind that couldn’t quite parse their speech. They had changed to Kisi..

Quietly, he delved into his soul, rushing down to his Fundament. An unforeseen benefit of taking in second-order material into his mana-spaces was the development of his spirit.

When Kasos had first shown him his Fundament, it had been cracked and ragged stone. It barely held the imprint of Persistence. The Concept was scored so lightly into the stone, Ranvir wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d lost it after recovering from the spiritual injury. Technically, he couldn’t lose it, but the thought was there.

Then, as he recovered, the stone patched over. First, it became like a patch of stone naturally peeking through. Something he could’ve found on any rocky plain on Vednar. Then soil and grass covered it. It wasn’t a large area. To Ranvir’s mind, he could’ve barely laid down on it.

Things had changed further since then. The place had grown as distinct as any of his mana-space, each of which he could vaguely feel hovering above Fundament. The three circling the small prison at the center.

The green field had expanded, bigger than a house now. Each mote of soil, grass, and stone emanating his Concept, cementing the place even further. Occasionally, as he looked around, it felt like he caught flashes of a blue sky mirroring the real world.

According to Kasos, this was the next step of development, the same one he was on. Kasos claimed they knew little of what came after, since so few had reached that point. Supposedly the Arkrotasia had stepped beyond, but they revealed their secrets to few.

Soaking himself in the presence of his Fundament, the wellspring of anima that fueled his spirit, Ranvir gorged himself on his Concept. Persistence flooded him. Sleepiness fell off him. It staved off the budding hunger in his stomach. Even the slight ache he’d developed from standing most of the day was pushed off.

Returning to himself, Ranvir noted two people looking over at him. Pashar, who stood next to him, and Asmar. He wasn’t surprised she’d noticed his efforts. She’d been good at using her tether-sense before redefining the standard in Korfyi. Asmar was a twin master, so Ranvir wasn’t too surprised.

With a huge bellow of a sigh, Asmar straightened. A few of the commanders around the table glanced at him, but he appeased them with fast gestures, an easy-going smile, and a calm word or two.

“I feel like going for a walk,” he said, stopping next to Ranvir. “Join me?”

Stifling a sigh, Ranvir glanced at Pashar, who simply rolled her eyes at him. Nodding, he followed the giant. They swept quickly through a few hallways before emerging into a secluded garden.

“I take it she’s your political guide?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sure she feels truly appreciated.”

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Ranvir snorted. They meandered through the garden, the darkness of the night eased slightly by the waxing moon.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I dipped a little too deep in the old ego-well, you know?”

Ranvir nodded, not wanting to make a bigger fuss out of it than Asmar already had.

“So do you think there’s merit to Sansir’s plan?”

“The core’s strong. The details, however…”

That was about as much as Ranvir needed to know, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to earn some points with the general and ask, “So, what are the biggest issues?”

Asmar glanced down at him. They were approaching a colonnade connecting the small enclosed garden with a larger outdoor one.

“The Purists don’t actually have that much manpower. If they did, they’d have gone straight on the offensive. Instead, they’re picking off targets and trying to starve Elusria of resources. Most of Ankiria’s forces remained at the front lines, still lead by at least one high master and most of the masters.”

“Why don’t they join the fight for the country?”

Asmar pursed his lips, his face cast in harsh lines as they stepped out from the roofed colonnade. “Ankiria isn’t like Elusria. Though the country has had a ‘common’ foe in the other allied nations, it could not glue to the people together. Without a strong royal family to keep it stitched together… Ankiria started falling apart immediately.”

“Was that why you came here? Instead of joining the Purists?”

Asmar smiled wryly. “I’d have gone to the front lines before the Purists. Your Queen claims Elusria is held together by three things: Royalty, because she has to believe this, the war on the front lines, and the oppression of Ankiria.”

“Eh,” Ranvir grimaced and wobbled his hand. “I wouldn’t say so. Growing up, I knew about the front lines, of course, but I hardly knew anything about Ankiria or the Queen.”

“What about your local leader?”

Ranvir furrowed his brows, thinking back on the old mayor. “I’m not sure. They were a tethered, though not strong enough to get educated. Of course, now we have a lord.”

“Trained in your school, I presume.”

“Well, of course she is.”

“Do you think she’s felt any pressure from the front lines, or perhaps the Ankirians?”

Hildrid, the Lord of Rime’s Shadow, had lost her husband on the front lines, leaving Laila short a parent. According to Grev and Dovar, noble training involved as much Elusrian customs as it did Ankirian. If an Ankirian noble visited your house, it certainly wasn’t them adapting to Elusrian customs. Why should they? The country had been under their heel for the last two-hundred years, even before they forcibly inserted their own blood into the royal line.

“Yeah,” Ranvir acknowledged.

Asmar nodded confidently, the steady glow of his yellow eyes following the movement. “So the Purists are low on manpower, but they have some. I am fairly certain one of their leaders is Black Heart.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Right…” Asmar said, realizing Ranvir didn’t know who he was talking about. “Black Heart is just the title. Dhaakir al-Khatib is a High Master and almost two-hundred-and-fifty years old. He first made a name for himself using his natural talent, quickly achieving Master. It was only then he started carving out his true niche as a general. Black Heart earned his title for the ruthless use of his men, yet his effectiveness made the losses worth it.”

“That’s… tough to beat.”

“It is. He’s had a hand in Ankirian warfare for centuries. Even after the royals bade him step away, he kept meddling.”

“So we can’t beat him?”

“He’s not the only genius tactician,” Asmar said arrogantly. “And better yet, we’ve been studying him for as long as he’s been leading the battlefield. Commander Tulaiha even served a few years directly under his command.”

“So you know his weaknesses?”

“Some of them, at least. I’m sure he’s as aware of them as we are, however.”

“Such as?”

Asmar chuckled. “He’s about the most racist person I’ve ever met.”

“You know him?” Ranvir asked. Asmar certainly hadn’t made it sound like he did.

“No, I met him. Once, for like five minutes.”

“And the defining trait you pulled from that was… racism?”

“Yes.”

“That must’ve been a rough five minutes.”

“I’ll certainly never forget it.”

At that moment, two spirits flared within the manor. Light mana, easy and fast, and ice, the slow unstoppable creep of frost on the first night of winter.

“That’s me,” Ranvir groaned, stretching out to space.

“Oh, we’ve protec…” Asmar trailed off as Ranvir manipulated a quick bridge from the garden to the hallway. “…ted the estate.”

Ranvir shrugged, and two steps later, found himself in a hallway. Sansir rushing down one end, Grevor down the other. Sighing, Ranvir jogged after Grev. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me!” Grev stopped to glare at Ranvir, like he’d personally offended him. “This place is terrible for him. Get him to stop.”

“Is this about your family?”

Grev spread his arms wide and gave Ranvir a mocking sneer. “I don’t know, is it?”

Ranvir sighed as Grev aggressively stomped away, blond hair bobbing with each step.

“Which idiot put me in charge of interpersonal relationships?” Ranvir groaned.

“I think you did,” Pashar said.

Ranvir gave her a deadpan glare, then added a few rude gestures to the mix.