Over the next week, Blake’s routine continued mostly the same. He’d wake up early, practice the Black Palm and feed River, then return to the pavilion for breakfast. Immediately after, he began combat training—no break days.

  Every day, he practiced with Wind-Eyes until noon. Even when the others disappeared on hunting missions, his training didn’t stop. Once, Blake was the only one who showed up to sparring practice. He knew he should’ve been looking for hunting missions to take advantage of the double contribution points, but he also couldn’t pass up the opportunity for sparring practice with Wind-Eyes’ attention solely on him.

  While they trained, Blake peppered him with questions about the world and the galaxy at large, most of which he ignored or answered simply with yes or no. A few times, he told Blake, “Focus on the staff, Junior Brother.”

  But near the end of the week, when Blake had a better sense of where he could sneak into a conversation with Wind-Eyes, he took his opportunity to ask, “What is a Path Paladin?”

  Wind-Eyes laughed, then glanced over at Blake, making sure he was performing his practice swipes properly. Blake was, of course. He had been practicing splitting his focus between sparring and the Lightning Crucible, ensuring that he kept gathering and converting dark lightning aspect Honour throughout a battle.

  The cycling loop wasn’t fast when he wasn’t drawing on any element of the Honour trigram, but it was something, and more importantly was the aspecting. In battle, he would be drawing in droves of pure-aspect Honour, but turning it into something compatible with the Black Palm would be a challenge.

  When Wind-Eyes seemed satisfied that Blake could split his attention, he said, “Path Paladins. You had better hope you never get on one’s bad side. They are powerful.”

  Blake noted that Wind-Eyes was only at the fifth stage of Body Tempering. The same as Svarikson. Was it that big of a concern?

  “I was only ever an apprentice,” Wind-Eyes said, probably guessing what Blake had been thinking. “And have not advanced a single stage since I left.”

  “Okay, but what do they actually do?” Blake shifted to a different stance and a began different set of swipes.

  “Have you heard of the Unification of the Central Systems?”

  “No—actually, wait, uh, 7077?”

  “Correct. I am surprised you know about it.”

  “I only know the date. And in all honesty, I don’t know how the dating system even works, so…”

  Wind-Eyes sighed. “The point remains, Junior Brother. You know about it. You see, there was a great war between the Cohong Dynasty and those who lived in these parts of the galaxy before the Nords—the Northern Kingdoms, the Umber-Kin.”

  That was probably what Ethbin was. One of the Umber-Kin. Blake kept that to himself.

  “After the war, the core systems of the galaxy formed into an autonomous sector and declared themselves peacekeepers, dedicated to preventing galactic war on such a scale ever again,” Wind-Eyes continued. “As it turns out, they were no different than any other righteous orthodox sect. Useless to the very end—they didn’t prevent the Nords from conquering the Umber-Kin, for one.”

  Blake didn’t even dare to nod. That would be breaking his form, and he couldn’t do that. “But the Path Paladins still exist?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, they still exist. They often wander the galaxy, ‘patrolling,’ ensuring diplomatic talks continue between sectors, or protecting important figures from assassination. That is always the most common flashpoint for a war. But most importantly, they look for signs of the Black Surge.” Wind-Eyes shook his head. “Mostly, that involves hunting fiends. The Dark Surge was destroyed long ago, and there are only remnants scattered throughout the galaxy.”

  Blake didn’t know what half of that meant, but he was more curious about one thing: “If they’re supposed to be peacekeepers, why do they care about the ‘dark’ or whatever?”

  “Because the Dark Surge was responsible for the Great War,” Wind-Eyes said. “Or so they claim. It was many thousands of years ago, and the truth of the matter has long been elusive. We only have myths to go on, now. Many don’t believe in the Dark Surge anymore.”

  Blake finished with a heavy swipe, then asked, “What would the Path Paladins do about me?”

  “They would take a great interest in you, and that is all I can say for certain.” Wind-Eyes shook his head in disdain. “They’re tradition-bound, too stuck in their ways. Nowadays, most of them don’t believe the Dark Surge ever even existed.”

  “What do you believe, sir?”

  “Senior Brother.” Wind-Eyes sighed. “I believe it doesn’t matter. They’ll use it as an excuse to assert all manner of strict controls on your everyday life, regardless of why or whether it’s true. And frankly, that level of control has a certain irony. The useless rules, the patterns of speech, all of it—if there was such a thing as the Dark Surge, that is exactly what it would do.”

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  “I mean, there has to be some kind of irony between you lot insisting on ‘Senior Brother’ and ‘Junior Brother’ and all that, right?” Blake winced, bracing for corporeal punishment, but nothing came.

  Wind-Eyes simply raised his eyebrows. “Truly, Junior Brother. What have I forced upon you? Terms of respect? Addressing your sect members with respect is a far stretch from what the Green Bears insist on, and further from what the Path Paladins insist on.”

  “Forgive my missteps,” Blake said, not entirely convinced. He couldn’t decide if the Hunters were hypocritical, or if Wind-Eyes only cared about terms of respect, or most importantly, if he was telling the truth about anything. He’d seen how the mortals behaved around the Hunters, how terrified they were. The Hunters weren’t that different from the Green Bears, no matter what they claimed.

  Blake kept that to himself as well. He wasn’t going to be here forever.

  “You did well today,” Wind-Eyes said. “Maintaining a conversation through combat is a good first step. Tomorrow, you will practice splitting your focus while sparring against an actual opponent.”

  Blake didn’t mention that he had been splitting his focus in three ways—between combat, between speaking, and between the Lightning Crucible. No matter what, Wind-Eyes wouldn’t have sensed his Honour anyway.

  “Why did you leave the Path Paladins, then?” Blake asked.

  “They were ineffective,” Wind-Eyes replied. “Perhaps they could stop wars, perhaps they saw tinderboxes where none existed. But their actions always came with a horribly callous sacrifice of lives they deemed of lesser importance.” He looked away, arms crossed, and a look of experience crossed his expression. “Just be thankful you have not lost a brother-in-arms yet.”

  ~ ~ ~

  In the afternoons, Blake spent his time reading. He struggled through the old manuscripts Elder Ulfreld had given him, hoping that they would tell him something about the next stages of cultivation and how to progress through Body Tempering.

  Instead, he ended up reading about the Nords’ history, cultural traditions, and philosophy. Most of it made his mind glaze over. He skimmed. As far as he knew, Ulfreld wasn’t going to test him. But the Elder still thought it was valuable, so, as a condition for him enjoying the amenities of the sect, he read as much as he could.

  A few days after his conversation with Wind-Eyes, and after a few smaller hunting missions to earn more contribution points, he returned two of the books to Elder Ulfreld. “Sorry, but I don’t know where these go,” Blake said.

  “Sorry, elder.”

  “Sorry, elder.”

  Ulfreld nodded and took the books. “Do you do it on purpose?”

  “I don’t like being told how to speak,” Blake muttered.

  “Evidently. How did you survive the Green Bears?”

  “Playing along.”

  “So this is a reflexive trauma response?”

  Blake laughed. “I dunno.”

  “There is a reason you show your elders respect, Junior Brother. Sometimes—sometimes—we have wisdom worth sharing.”

  Blake tried to laugh again, but it came out more awkward than he wanted. He changed the subject and said, “The howlers I just hunted were pretty far from the merge-mists. Is something wrong? I don’t think they’ve ever ventured this far out.”

  “I have heard similar reports from others,” Ulfreld said. “Something is terrorizing the mists, though it has remained hidden to us for the time being. Wind-Eyes wishes for us to forbid the anyone below Foundation from travelling deep into the mists, because he doesn’t believe we can deal with whatever is out there.”

  Whatever was out there was likely stronger than a Core Formation spiker. How could anyone in the sect take it down, except maybe Ulfreld himself?

  “But that is no matter for today,” Ulfreld continued. “Thank you for returning these books to me.”

  “Elder, I was curious,” Blake continued. “Do you have any guides on the Body Tempering stages?”

  “Most cultivators would take a break after advancing to Tempering One.”

  “Well…” Blake shrugged. He wasn’t ‘most cultivators.’ And with Ethbin still recovering his energy, Blake couldn’t rely on him as a guide. He had to find the way forward on his own. He said, “I still have some catching up to do, don’t I?”

  Ulfreld sighed. “There are a few guides available for loan at the library—for an exchange of contribution points, of course.”

  “Of course,” Blake echoed.

  “I will show you them when you return from the Trade in Mergewatch.”

  “When I return? The whole sect isn’t going, correct?”

  “No, but I wish to bring one of our most promising recruits with me,” Elder Ulfreld said. “As a show of force against the Green Bears, if you will.”

  “I’m…promising? Won’t I just look stunted to them?”

  “We shall see, Junior Brother.”

  Blake lowered his arms and let out a long exhale. “Why do you guys hate the Green Bears so much, anyway?”

  “Everyone has their own reasons. Everyone who has lived in this region for long enough ends up with some grievance of some kind. You have your own, correct?”

  Blake tilted his head. It was an interesting proposition, but he hadn’t really thought about it like that. All cultivators were his enemies, not just the Green Bears, but growing up, most of the cultivators he’d ever dealt with were Green Bears.

  “I suppose I have some issues,” he finally said. Then quickly, he added, “With the Green Bears, I mean. What’s your big grievance?”

  Ulfreld hesitated, but after a few seconds, he said, “I suppose you were bound to find out my story soon enough if you stay here long enough. I was once a member of their sect, and a promising member at that. A young upstart with nothing to my name. But I made enemies with the wrong people—within the sect and without—and I soon found myself exiled.”

  “Who did you piss off? You don’t seem the type to piss people off.”

  “Suffice it to say that you could have been my younger self’s shadow.” Ulfreld shook his head. “But that’s not a tale for today, Junior Brother. We leave for the Trade at the end of the week—make sure you are ready.”