“I have to say,” Det said. “This is fancier than I expected. You really are paying, aren’t you?”

  Captain Simmons chuckled as he sat down opposite Det, one hand smoothing out a small wrinkle in the impressive, white tablecloth. If Det had to relate the place to a restaurant from Earth, it was like a fancy Italian place, complete with waiters walking around with thick napkins folded over their arms. Then there were the smells coming from the kitchen.

  “Yes, I really am paying,” Simmons said. “Not that you couldn’t afford it on your Mistguard salary. It’s not really that expensive. And, even if it was, again, Mistguard salary.”

  “Do we really make that much?” Det said, inspecting the spotless cutlery.

  “We really do,” Simmons said. “It’s no joke to say you could live like a king on your salary in a few years, as you go up in Ranks.”

  “Higher Ranks is more pay?”

  “More danger, so, yes, more pay,” Simmons said. “General Vans and the headmaster both make a mint. Each of them could probably bankroll an entire pillar.”

  “And, yet, places like Radiant are basically struggling through poverty,” Det said, the cutlery going back to the table as he thought about his second childhood.

  “Mount Avalon isn’t fair,” Captain Simmons reminded him, like the words were the school motto. “But, before you go all righteous grumpy on me and ruin our lunch, you should wander by the general’s home some time. Or the headmaster’s.”

  “With how much money is sounds like they make,” Det said and looked out the window. “Can we see them from here? Maybe one of them owns that crown-castle-thing up at the peak of Mount Avalon?”

  “You definitely can’t see their homes, or mine, from here. Just because they make the money doesn’t mean they are living so lavishly. Both of them are supporting the pillars the came from, even though neither of them had the best childhood there. Then there are the various foundations here on Avalon to support people like the trio you brought back from Ironsalt.”

  At the mention of Nancine, her daughter Meliza, and Ruffal—the three he’d rescued from the emergence on Ironsalt—Det briefly wondered how they were doing. He hadn’t seen them since they’d all come to Mount Avalon.

  “What do you mean?” Det asked.

  “Who do you think pays for that kind of integration of new citizens?” Captain Simmons said. “It’s not cheap getting people—who come with nothing—set up on this pillar. Nothing here is cheap, and they need a home, clothes, food, and a stipend until they’ve got their feet under them again. Anything less would make arriving… well, tough.

  “People like General Vans and the headmaster make it so they have a softer landing. It’s not a lifetime charity or anything like that, but they make sure the first while here isn’t a nightmare.”

  “I assumed that was all set up by, I don’t know, the local government or something,” Det said. “Or the Mistguard as an organization. Everybody keeps saying how much money they have.”

  “It’s not an exaggeration,” Simmons said. “Mistships aren’t cheap, among other things. Running an army isn’t cheap. Ah, here comes our waiter. Do you mind if I order for us?”

  “As long as nothing you order is another prank or hazing. If you’re going to feed me something to get a laugh, tell me now so I can run to Zedic’s to get a sandwich.”

  “Boooo,” Captain Simmons said with a laugh. “But, fine. Fine. You win! I’ll only order the good stuff.”

  “Which you will pay for,” Det said when the waiter arrived, to make it very clear he wasn’t getting stuck with the bill.

  Simmons looked at the waiter. “Some people have no trust.”

  “Respectfully, sir,” the waiter said. “It wouldn’t be your first time.”

  “Et tu, Brute?” Simmons said, a hand going to his heart.

  “Before you ask,” the waiter said to Det. “My name is actually Brute.”

  “Really?” Det said.

  “Unfortunately,” Brute said. “The pronunciation is Brrru-tay, rolling the R is very important, unless you’re a savage.” He looked at Simmons quickly before back to Det. “Despite the captain here explaining the historical significance of the phrase, it really means nothing here on Elestar. Other than to replay this joke over and over.”

  “How many young, impressionable cadets have you brought here, captain?” Det said.

  “You are neither young nor impressionable,” Simmons said.

  “Thirteen,” Brute said. “Since the new classes started. You are number fourteen.”

  “You said I was your favorite!” Det joked.

  “You are right now,” Simmons said. “Mainly because I’m not the only joker currently around this table.”

  “You’ve caught me,” Brute said. “I may have exaggerated the number.”

  “By how much?” Det said.

  “Around thirteen, give or take,” Brute said.

  “I am actually a regular here,” Simmons said.

  “I’m figuring that out,” Det said.

  “And, our young cadet is on a time limit,” Simmons said, clapping his hands together lightly. “Brute, two of the usual, please.”

  “Wine pairing?” Brute asked.

  “Not today,” Simmons said.

  “Understood,” Brute said. “I’ll be back shortly with your food.” A quick head-nod, and the man was gone again, walking quickly back to the kitchen.

  “You really didn’t bring other cadets here?” Det said.

  “Jealous?”

  “More nervous than anything,” Det said.

  “I won’t lie,” Simmons said. “I’ve got my eyes on a few of this cycle’s prospects. You’re one of them, but not the only one. You stand out because of some of your accomplishments. On the other hand, if we were to put you into the arena right now to duel one of them, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t do any better than you did against me on our way to Mount Avalon.”

  “There are cadets that strong?” Det said. “As strong as you?” That couldn’t be right. Simmons was A-Rank.

  “Not as strong as me, no,” Simmons said. “As strong as the amount of power I used in our training, most definitely.”

  Det leaned back in his chair at the statement. He’d been feeling pretty good about himself with the kernelization thing, and the numbers he’d recorded that morning. If his magic was almost twice as strong as anybody else’s because of the kernels, it gave him a distinct advantage. However, based on what Captain Simmons said…

  “I have a long way to go,” Det finally said.

  “You do,” Simmons agreed. “Your name is making waves now, good job on the kernel thing, by the way, but things are going to change a lot when the official dueling circuit starts up. People you’ve never heard of from the different classes are suddenly going to rocket to the top.”

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  “They’re really that strong?” Det said.

  “Some, yes,” Simmons said. “Some, like you, have untapped potential. The difference is that their magic is more—let’s say—direct when it comes to getting used in a fight. They’ll have the chance to show off.”

  “My magic did well… on the field trip,” Det said.

  Captain Simmons leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “You had a party supporting you. Not a smart ReSouled looking to poke holes in you and your magic. It won’t be the same in the dueling ring.”

  “Is this a warning about tomorrow?” Det asked.

  “Aarak?” Simmons said, gently waving a hand in front of his face. “No. You’d better trounce him. If you don’t, all that potential I see in you is just smoke and mirrors. That would be an embarrassing disappointment.

  “I’m talking about your near future after that,” Simmons said. “Yours is the first duel out of this cycle. After you win it—and you’d better—you’ll be a target. Everybody here has something to prove, and you’ll be the obvious way to do it.”

  “How many people are going to challenge me?” Det said. “I’m going to be gone half the time on field trips.”

  “Depends how many you manage to beat,” Simmons said. “Tell me, Det, how confident are you in yourself when it comes to these duels?”

  “Suddenly less so than five minutes ago,” Det said.

  “Let me ask you something,” Simmons said. “Have you thought about how you’re going to beat Aarak’s magic?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas, from what I’ve seen in class.”

  “Good,” Simmons said. “For your kind of ability, preparation is important. So, now, my real question. How would you beat your magic? Have you thought about that?”

  Det didn’t try to spit out an answer, though the silence made it a pretty clear. ‘No’. He hadn’t really considered how to counter himself. What were his weaknesses? What could be exploited? If he had to fight himself, how would he win?

  “I can see you thinking about it,” Simmons said. “Good. You may need answers to that question sooner than you think. The versatility of your magic is definitely a strength, but the need to prepare is a weakness. How are you going to make up for that?”

  “Preparing more probably isn’t the answer you’re looking for,” Det said, and Simmons’ chuckle confirmed that.

  “Good to see you catch on quick,” Simmons said. “Ah, looks like the food is just about ready. I don’t expect you to answer my question over lunch, that’s not why we’re here anyway, but think on it. It’ll be important.”

  “Yeah, it will be,” Det admitted. Not just in duels, either. The Wordless would find ways to exploit any weaknesses he had too.

  “Good,” Simmons said as Brute delivered a small soup as an appetizer to them. The vibrant red of it made him a bit nervous—spicy?—but the waiter gave him a reassuring nod.

  “There are no tricks or jokes to the food here,” Brute said. “We take it too seriously. You will enjoy it.”

  “You really will,” Simmons said. The man already had his spoon dipping lightly into the soup, breaking the surface tension to release a puff of steam from the hot liquid. The scent of it had Det reaching for his own spoon like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

  “I’ll bring out the main course when you finish the soup,” Brute said. “You mentioned you were on a schedule. Do you need anything else?”

  “Not at the moment,” Simmons said. “Thank you.”

  “Then, if you’ll excuse me,” Brute said with another nod of his head, then returned to the kitchen.

  “There are three reasons I like this place,” Simmons said. “One, obviously, the food. Two, the service. And three…” Simmons gestured to the otherwise empty room. Yes, there were other tables set up on the floor—the fourth floor of the restaurant—but none of them were occupied. “The privacy they offer when you ask for it.

  “Brute will only come around when necessary, which gives us a little more leeway to discuss things. So, tell me about your return to Radiant.”

  Spoon halfway to his mouth, Det paused, then mentally said ‘screw it’ and let the spoon finish the trip. As soon as the rich liquid reached his tongue, he almost forgot what he was supposed to be talking about.

  Having clearly expected the reaction, Simmons was already snapping his fingers in front of Det’s face. “Start talking, or I’ll tell Brute we don’t need the main course.”

  If the appetizer was that good, Det couldn’t risk Simmons going through with the threat. So, he told the man what had happened. He started with the fact there had been two separate emergences, like what had happened on Ironsalt. While Beauty had gone to deal with the D and C-Rank parts—even though they would scale up to counter his B-Rank power—Det and has party had tackled the E-Rank dungeon.

  Stage Fright had been the name of the theatre-like dungeon. A wave-type dungeon, meaning they stood in one place and dealt with Wordless Marionettes trying to dogpile them, then a Boss. Which just happened to be the whole stage. With bait in the middle of it. Another Wordless that looked like Kels, a young girl from Radiant.

  Simmons was particularly interested in the fact a Wordless looked like somebody from the pillar, and he had more than a few questions about it. Det answered what he could, and explained how the Rare Spawn had interacted with it.

  All in all, the retelling took them right up to dessert, which was some kind of bubbling chocolate volcano of a cake. It was… amazing, and well worth putting up with Simmons’ antics. It was also finished with a scant few minutes for him to get back to class. Luckily, the restaurant wasn’t actually far from where he needed to go, and a moment after Simmons—actually—paid, they were back on the street.

  “Thanks for that,” Det said. “I am so coming back here.”

  “Bringing your suitemates?” Simmons said.

  “Other than Calisco,” Det said. “And no way I’m paying for them.”

  Simmons laughed at hearing Calisco’s name. He’d seen them together, and had a vague understanding of their relationship. Or, lack of one? It was hard to quantify, since they’d grown up in the same town, but not really together.

  “You’re welcome for lunch,” Simmons said. “Getting the story firsthand was much better than reading the report. You put too many details in things.”

  “Details are important,” Det said.

  “Says the artist,” Simmons said.

  “Yeah…? Was that an insult or a compliment?”

  “Take it whichever way makes you feel better about yourself.”

  “Great,” Det muttered.

  “And, Det,” Simmons said, a serious edge to his voice that wasn’t common unless he was speaking to General Vans. He took a step closer to Det, his voice low so the sounds of traffic on the street would drown out his words to anybody else listening in. “Be careful when you’re not on Avalon. Something about this cycle feels different. Your two… field trips… have both been unusual. It’s beyond rare to get a single instance of two, let’s call them, points of interest…” Code for emergences or dungeons. “… on a single pillar in the span of several cycles.

  “Already, this one, we’ve got a pair within two weeks of each other. Part of me thinks something’s changed. And not for the better.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Det said. “Shouldn’t that be a problem for General Vans, or the other S-Rankers?”

  “Because you’re going to be out on field trips every second week,” Simmons said. “You need to keep your eyes open for any other changes. With these things popping up on Ironsalt and Radiant, at E-Rank, there has to be a connection. You’re going to be going back to both those places, I think. Just, be careful.”

  “Because I’m your favorite?” Det said. “Or because I’m your canary in the mine.”

  “Little of column A, little of column B,” Simmons admitted.

  “Captain,” Det said. “Back during the week of fun and torture, you said every ReSouled uses other people. Friends, associates, fellow Mistguard. Because of our drives. Are you going to tell me what you’re using me for?”

  “No,” Simmons said. “Because I’m still feeling you out. Like I said, you have potential to be one of the pieces I need. You’re not there yet. A long way to go, if we’re being frank.”

  “Will you at least tell me what your drive is?”

  “Also no,” Simmons said. “Some ReSouled are open about that kind of thing. I’m not one of those. I keep it closer to my chest.”

  “… because of your drive?”

  “And that’s why I have my eye on you, Det,” Simmons said with a wink through the perfect curl hanging in front of his eye. “Yes, my drive makes me want to keep it quiet. I can’t accomplish my goals if I’m blabbing them all over the place.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me?” Det said. “Not what your drive is, but what your interest is in me? Or the others you have your eye on. Ugh, that sounds creepy. At least you don’t have a thin mustache and a van with tinted windows.”

  “I feel like it’s my turn to be a little insulted,” Simmons said.

  “Or complimented, whatever makes you feel better,” Det said, throwing the man’s words right back at him.

  “Definitely insulted,” Simmons laughed. “As for your question, only if you live up to my expectations.”

  “Are they higher or lower than my own for myself?” Det said, and Simmons’ sly smile faded. He also didn’t answer immediately.

  “Again, this is why I have my eye on you, Det,” Simmons said, none of the usual levity in his voice. “You’re not joking when you ask that question.”

  “I’m not,” Det said. “Like you said, we’re all using each other. You’re a well-known A-Rank Mistguard with obvious connections. Unless you’re planning to overthrow the Nivelhime Kingdom or something, it seems like a good idea to be in your orbit.”

  “What if I am planning on a revolution?” Simmons said, still no humor in his voice.

  “Then I’d ask how it would make me stronger or line up with my drive,” Det said.

  Simmons nodded, but didn’t say anything else about the theoretical rebellion. “Since I know your drive,” the captain said. “There is no way my expectations can be higher for you than your own. A lot of Mistguard have drives that seem almost impossible to accomplish, but yours is one of the few that’s never been accomplished. By anybody. Not me. Not General Vans, the headmaster, or even the legends of the Mistguard, people like the Architect or the Administrator.”

  “I’ll do it,” Det said.

  “Or die trying,” Simmons added the usual caveat.

  “Not if I have any say in the matter,” Det said. “And it would help to have people like you on my side.”

  “Which is why you’ll entertain me.”

  “I hope whatever you have planned is for more than entertainment,” Det said.

  “Can’t it be both?” Simmons said, then smiled and looked at something over Det’s shoulder. “But, shouldn’t you be getting back to class? If that clock is right, and I know it is…”

  Det’s head snapped around. Then his eyes widened at where the clock-hand stood. In the next heartbeat, he was running, Simmons’ laugh echoing even over the crowded street behind him.