Blake ran with Wind-Eyes to the center of the pavilion, where the rest of the sect’s members had gathered. Ulfreld made a platform for himself with his floating swords, and he overlooked the crowd, arms crossed.

  After a half minute passed, giving enough time for the sect to gather, Ulfreld said, “Good afternoon, everyone. The Steerman has given us an important task. We are to head to the eastern mists and hunt a pride of Lightstalkers that has been terrorizing Green Bear explorers.”

  Blake’s eyes widened. “What?” he breathed. “We’re going to help them?”

  “Technically, the Steerman can give us such orders,” Wind-Eyes replied.

  “As a branch of the Red Pine Hunter’s sect, we are uniquely poised for such a task,” Ulfrelf said, as if reading from a script. “And we will not delay. I will be putting together a team, and we will leave this evening. If you have been selected, you will find your name posted on the mission board within the hour. We will head to the eastern Sceat Bowl, where we believe the lightstalkers are hiding.”

  Jumping down from his platform, Ulfreld turned with such speed that his robes snapped like a whip. He marched away, back to his quarters at the very center of the pavilion.

  “I was worried about something like this,” Wind-Eyes muttered.

  “What’s wrong?” Blake tilted his head. “It’s a simple mission, right?”

  “I’m worried where it will lead us,” Wind-Eyes replied. “The timing is unfortunate, and it’s an oddly specific location. The Sceat Bowl is a giant crater in the merge-mists between us and your old Earth, but the Monarch was sighted near there recently.”

  After standing still for a few seconds, Blake ran across the pavilion until he reached the mission board. He stared at it for a few seconds, waiting. There were no names yet.

  He stared at it, tapping his foot inside his boot, until a mortal attendant approached and posted a parchment sheet covered in names. There were twenty hunters selected for the mission.

  Blake ran over and scanned down the list. Most of the hunters were Foundation stage, but there were a few Tempering stage members too.

  He went over the list twice, then three times, and nowhere did he see his own name.

  Don’t do anything rash, Ethbin said inside his head. This is likely for the best. You cannot cultivate if you’re dead.

  Blake didn’t reply. He walked back across the pavilion and ducked into Ulfreld’s central garden. A guard tried to stop him, telling him that Ulfreld was not taking visitors right now, but Blake pushed through the guard with ease.

  He found Ulfreld sitting cross-legged in front of a burbling fountain. The man had his eyes shut, and his swords floated behind him in a circle. A storage ring sat beside him, probably full of his equipment for the expedition.

  “Sir,” Blake said, “you’re walking into a trap. The Steerman has to have something up his sleeve.”

  “I know.”

  “The prince—”

  “I said I know,” Ulfreld replied quickly. “Which is why you’re not coming. That’s truly why you’re upset, isn’t it, Junior Brother?”

  Blake tightened his fists. “Sure, this command doesn’t come from Silverbeard, but it’s all part of their plan. Can’t you see? I don’t know what they want. Maybe they want us dead, slain by the Monarch. Maybe to make it look like we tried to kill the beast and steal it from the prince...”

  “Perhaps both.” Ulfreld crossed his arms. “I will stick to the parameters the Steerman gave me, I will not deviate, and we will play his game. The sect will survive a little longer as long as we’re careful. This is a King’s Table game, Junior Brother Bjarke.”

  He’d read about the game. A board game played by the Nords, where a king trapped in the center of a checkerboard had to reach the edge, and the opposing player had to corner their king.

  “We’re the king, then?” Blake chuckled.

  “We’re in danger, but they haven’t cornered us yet.”

  Blake winced. “Something tells me they have something else in store for us than a bunch of Lightstalkers.”

  “Indeed. But I don’t know what it is. We must make new plans as the situation changes.”

  Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “There has to be a way out.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Whether it’s today, or tomorrow, or two years from now, they will find a way to destroy our pavilion. The larger Red Pine sect doesn’t care about this world anymore.”

  “So leave this region. Why stay? Find some other place.”

  “Your homeworld has been carved up and conquered, Junior Brother. There is nowhere that isn’t under Nord control. If we picked ourselves up and moved, we would simply anger another sect. We are dead-enders, Junior Brother,” Ulfreld said. He grabbed Blake’s shoulders. “They’re not going anywhere, and they know it too. They lived to serve the sect. They missed the admissions ages for other sects, and they’re not skilled enough to get into another sect later in life.” He paused. “You, Bjarke, you are capable of more than them. Which is why I’m trying to keep you alive. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Why? You barely know me.”

  Ulfreld grimaced. He turned away from a few seconds, then turned back. “In my youth, I was much like you. I earned the title Hel Wolf. I was rash, bold, and aggressive. I made many mistakes and many enemies, and I lost many friends. I lost more than you could ever know. And I don’t want the same for you.”

  Blake hung his head. There was no way around it—no way to avoid the loss. It was the knight’s Path, wasn’t it?

  “Silverbeard is older than he looks,” Ulfreld continued. “Than he acts. He won’t admit it, but you scare him.”

  Blake blinked. “Me? I’m still a major realm below him.”

  “Yes, you.” Ulfreld’s swords slowly drifted into a plume of sheaths on his back. “Those of us who make it to the level me and him are at, we’ve all heard the stories. Every so often, maybe twice a century, there’s a true prodigy. Someone who is stronger than he looks, capable of defeating opponents many realms higher than him. He sees the signs, just like I do.”

  Blake pressed the heels of his hands against his face. “Okay. Fine, but—”

  “Stay with the sect as long as you can,” Ulfreld said. “That’s all you can do. But when we burn, don’t burn with us.”

  Before Blake could argue anymore, Ulfreld swept up his storage ring and turned, marching out of his garden into the rest of the pavilion. He called, “You should have seen your name by now. If you are among the expedition, gather at the west gate. We make for the mists immediately.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Blake had no illusions of staying put for long. He returned to his room, then gathered all his equipment. All the while, Ethbin said, Ulfreld is right, Blake. Don’t involve yourself in this.

  “I’m not letting Silverbeard have his way,” Blake said. “Fuck them. The Prince, the hunters, the Green Bears. Whoever.”

  After a few seconds, Ethbin said, I don’t suppose I can stop you. Do you have a plan?

  “I don’t have a plan.”

  I’m sensing one forming in your mind.

  Blake heaved a long exhale. “Well, look, the Green Bears are going to get involved somehow. I bet they are. We have to be there, and be ready to intercept them before things go too poorly. I don’t know what they’re going to do or what’s going to happen, but I don’t think Ulfreld is seeing the full picture.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Blake said, “You’re not going to protest?”

  No. In fact, I think you’re getting closer to discovering your willpower.

  Blake shed his training tunic, then leaned on the windowsill of his room. Outside, it was beginning to snow, and the torchlight from the pavilion turned the sky a shade of pale orange. He drew his attention closer and stared at himself in the mirror. He’d bulked up a little over the past few months, and the fiend markings were starting to look a little more natural. Like they were part of him.

  He turned away, then pulled on the shirt Ulfreld had given him. Then, he hoisted up his staff and backpack. By now, the hunters had already left. He tried to be as subtle as he could, navigating to the edge of the pavilion in the shadows, then sneaking toward the gate.

  But the moment he reached the west gate, he found Wind-Eyes, Iver, and Froskur waiting for him.

  “Elder Ulfreld said you would follow him,” Wind-Eyes said.

  “Of course he did,” Blake muttered. “Are you going to stop me?”

  “Are you going to take his advice?”

  Blake crossed his arms. “No. I’m sick of the ways of the cultivators. I can help, and so I will.”

  “Respecting his wishes is the honourable thing to do, Senior Brother,” Iver said.

  Blake cast his attention inward. The longer he waited here, the more his siphon constricted. Less Honour flowed into him. He needed to get out there and help.

  “No, it’s not,” Blake replied.

  “Please, Blake, don’t go,” Froskur added.

  Blake shook his head. “I have to.”

  Wind-Eyes grimaced, then pulled the two boys aside. “Let your senior pass, Junior Brothers. Let us hope the Fates are smiling on him.”

  Blake dipped his head to Wind-Eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Come back in one piece, Junior Brother, and don’t make this worse.”

  Blake swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll try.” He set off, hands in his pockets, and followed the trail the other hunters left. Their footprints still left a path in the snow for him to follow.

  He couldn’t chase after them too obviously, so he resorted to his basic, weak Augmentation technique. Honour flooded his muscles, and he increased his pace, keeping to the ground while moving much faster than a regular cultivator’s walking speed.

  When he heard Ulfreld’s voice in the woods, Blake stopped. The hunters were making directly for the mists, and they’d probably make camp at the edge of the forest, just before the mists began. Which meant they’d keep walking well into the evening.

  “Blake,” a voice came from behind him. River.

  He held up a finger to his lips and shushed her. “They don’t know we’re here.”

  “Blake is sneaking,” River said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Yeah. We’re following them, and we shouldn’t dawdle. They’re going to lead us straight to the Lightstalkers or whatever trap the Green Bears have laid out for us.”