51st of Season of Fire, 107th year of the 32nd cycle

  “Newstar, Maelstrom, good to see you!” Dandelion greeted them as soon as the old patriarch of the Swordpeaks exchanged greetings with their hosts and Newt’s master.

  “How have you been?” he asked, giving them critical looks. “I expected that you at least would be at the sixth realm by now, Maelstrom.”

  “Master Dandelion,” the Tidebreaker king greeted Dandelion personally, coming over and shaking his hand. “It is a great pleasure to host you again.”

  Dandelion moved to bow, but the very moisture in the air kept him standing.

  “You have already bowed once, and even that was inappropriate, but the ceremony demands it, and you know I’m firm when it comes to traditions.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Dandelion said with a slight smile, looking way too much like the ancient king’s peer.

  Why are they acting like old friends? Newt couldn’t make sense of the situation, and he wasn’t the only one.

  “Master Dandelion,” Gatemaster Greenthorn approached, and also shook Dandelion’s hand. “I would once more like to thank you for helping me find Newstar after the cultists’ attack.”

  The Swordpeak patriarch chuckled.

  “Apparently, we wouldn’t have met like this if not for my ward.” He gave Newt’s master a light bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Gatemaster Greenthorn.”

  “Come, come, we can be polite later. We have auspicious dates, guest lists, and food to discuss.”

  The Tidebreaker led them once more through the halls showing the Tidebreakers’ victories. Dandelion looked at the images, his gaze lingering on the ones with more intricate mana patterns.

  “How’s your painting going?” Maelstrom asked.

  “I’ve neglected it, and seeing these masterpieces only makes me feel more ashamed because of it, but for the first time, I find myself lacking time. It’s a novel experience.”

  “And what have you been busy with?” Newt asked.

  “Realm sculpting mostly. I can’t let you kids get too far ahead of me. I’ve also forged and enchanted a couple of swords, half a dozen, so it’s not biting too much into my time.” Dandelion regarded them both. “And from what I’ve been hearing, you two have blessedly been doing nothing notable since the tournament. Keep up the good work.”

  Newt and Maelstrom frowned, and Newt spoke. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that dandelions sticking out of the grass are the first to be scythed down and that you really shouldn’t. Stick out, I mean. It’s a horrible time for that.”

  “Quite right,” Dandelion’s master said. “Then again, the Diamondsouls are also sticking out, but they were neither attacked by the cultists nor will they be sent to fight the saurians at the front.”

  “They won’t?” Newt asked. From what Maelstrom’s grandfather had said, Newt thought that the Diamondsouls were also sticking out.

  “Apparently, they have spell seals to set up in various places, and the empire needs their expertise everywhere.”

  “To be honest,” Tidebreaker Patriarch interrupted, “they have been busy with imperial decrees ever since the cults attacked, reinforcing various infrastructure around the empire.”

  Newt didn’t know when it happened, but at some point the rest of the delegations disappeared, leaving only the six of them.

  “They are extremely well paid for their safe and comfortable work, while we will get what we kill and pay for it with our blood, most finding death.”

  “It shouldn’t be that bad, Patriarch Swordpeak,” Newt’s master said.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You don’t have access to the real accounts from the weald subjugation expeditions. They were bloodier than you can imagine, and all we got from them were failures and a couple million square miles of farmland. No, it was the imperials culling their enemies, and it’s happening now too. At least we have some fifty years left to come up with strategies and countermeasures.”

  “You youngsters should go and enjoy yourselves,” Maelstrom’s grandfather said. “Maelstrom, take them to a private tea parlor. We have things to discuss.”

  The three exalts sped up, becoming a blur through which Newt managed to catch a glimpse of them walking normally, just at the level their tenth realm allowed them to move.

  “Please follow me.” Maelstrom smiled. “And, since I didn’t get the chance to say it before, it’s good to see you again, Dandelion. No, I’m not at the sixth realm yet. I still have some five-six years of sculpting left, and I need to perfect my tracing before I feel comfortable about advancing.”

  “What?” Newt looked at her with surprise. “You still haven’t traced all your techniques?”

  Maelstrom and Dandelion stopped and stared at him.

  “He’s kidding, right?” she asked.

  “No, just ignore it. He does that every time I talk to him about anything regarding mana, realms, and skills. He’s a monster and completely oblivious of it. So, about your traces, how complete are they?”

  “I haven’t started yet!” Maelstrom stomped her leg. “It’s difficult, manipulating mana so delicate the constructs fall apart at the slightest mistake.”

  Newt stared at her, trying to understand what she was talking about. Tracing came as easily as breathing. You just find the path you wanted to make and willed your mana to make it. There wasn’t even anything that could fall apart.

  “What realm core did you use to make yours?”

  “An eighth realm frostwalker. You?”

  Dandelion chuckled. “It’s probably that. I tore my own heartcore out of my chest and used it to awaken again.”

  Maelstrom snapped her head towards him, stopping in her tracks, and even Newt gasped in horror. Dandelion never really explained how he had shattered his realm and restarted his path. Newt thought the collapse was internal, not a bloody affair that involved removing organs from his body.

  “You ripped your heart out? How did you survive?” Maelstrom stared at him as if he had sprouted horns.

  And you were calling me a monster, Newt thought.

  “I didn’t actually rip my heart out of my chest. Just severed a tiny lump, you know, like the saurian cores, and healed myself right after. It was much tamer than you’re making it sound.”

  They entered a smaller room, fit for a party of up to five people with comfortable lounging chairs, each with its own small table.

  “You’re the youngest, Pumpkin, you’re serving.”

  “And you’re the host—” Newt was about to say that she would be his wife and it was her job to serve him, but Dandelion clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “Don’t argue, I don’t mind serving tea to my talented juniors.” He approached the set, took a whiff from several jars, and after going through them all, chose the third one.

  “What was that about us being scythed?” Maelstrom asked as Dandelion conjured pure water.

  “What I said, you should lay low for a while. The imperials and the cultists both seem to be seeking to purge people. You’re caught in a three-way battle for power, and as the weakest side, the winning move is to stay passive and keep the proverbial seesaw in balance.”

  Steam started hissing from the kettle spout, as Dandelion held it in his bare hands while admiring the porcelain masterpiece teapot on the table, moving the leaves into it with air mana.

  “I really need to learn pottery,” he mumbled, examining the exquisite craft behind such a normal item.

  “Why? Isn’t it useless?” Maelstrom asked.

  “You never know when a craft might come in handy. Perhaps not in this life, but there’s always the next.”

  It was a weird thing to say, and Newt dug for a deeper meaning.

  “Are you trying to say we should practice our skills in subtle ways? Like you’re preparing tea right now? Because that’s a crazy level of control you’re showing. I can tell all the heat is infused into the kettle, but none of the mana is seeping into the water, keeping it pure water.”

  Dandelion just smiled, but Maelstrom once more frowned.

  “How do you see that? I’m looking at it right now, and while I can see fire mana entering the metal, I have no way of knowing it isn’t leaking into the water.”

  “Because he’s circulating it through the kettle without loss. He absorbs it right after it does a full circle through the kettle, leaving only a fraction of the heat behind. Just enough to boil water.”

  Maelstrom squinted.

  “You’re both insane, you know that?”

  “Thank you,” Dandelion nodded. “I saw your master do this back after he rescued you. He prepared tea for me when we discussed my reward. Also, he apologised for heating the tea by using mana, saying it was the only way he had on hand to prepare the water at the exact temperature the tea required.”

  Dandelion paused, seemingly recalling the experience. “It was good tea.”

  Then he returned to the present and poured the hot water over the leaves. “This one should be decent, too.”

  Newt gave it a sip, and it was excellent, especially the flavorful, slightly bitter aftertaste.

  “Now, as I’ve said, if you have one thing to learn from our meeting today, if there’s one thing I wish you to know for certain, it’s that you need to hide your strength and do nothing conspicuous for at least two hundred years or until I tell you otherwise.”

  Newt and Maelstrom exchanged a glance, expecting an explanation, but got none.