Ranthia wasn’t quite sure if she was feeling better by the next morning. The standoff with the generals had infested her nightmares for the first time ever and there had been no Night there to save her in her dreams. It was just her and her people against the might of the Legions and the Coalition, and by the next morning she couldn’t remember who had attacked first. The dream had probably repeated too—she wasn’t sure how she could have been brutally killed quite so many times otherwise, even with nightmare ‘logic’.

  Not that she was any stranger to a night spent locked in horror conjured by her own stupid mind.

  Ranthia woke up too early for the meeting, but not early enough to get any meaningful training in. Normally she would have just offered Xaoc prayers, but… well, what was bothering her was too silly and stupid to bother her god with. She wasn’t sure she could think of anything else meaningful to tell Him while she prayed either, unless it happened to be one of the rare occasions that He chose to speak with her.

  Instead of taking that gamble, Ranthia just got dressed the lazy way: she picked up her mistweave tunic, blue-and-silver blindfold, and sandals, then shifted to an image that was wearing them. Once that was done, she headed down the hall toward the meeting room.

  She was the first there, but if she was going to be lazy, she might as well be lazy in a comfortable chair while she waited for others to show up.

  “I am not going to marry your cousin.”

  “I think the two of you would be great together, just keep it in mind!”

  “No way, I saw her at your birthday party. She looks too much like you. It’d be weird.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, we look nothing alike!”

  “You have the exact same nose!” The Sentinel in charge of finding things snapped as he rounded the corner and came into the room. He offered Ranthia a wave before he plodded over to his chair.

  The Sentinel that was attached to a nose was with him and nodded to her, before he went back to trying to convince the other man to get with his cousin.

  That poor girl. Ranthia winced. No woman should be cursed with a nose anywhere near the league of that one. …In fact, she would have preferred noses like that to be wholly absent from Pallos, had she any say in the matter.

  Ranthia was saved from problematic daydreams of cutting her coworker’s nose off when Sentinel Swarm strolled into the room.

  “Ocean’s back, but he got tied up with some problem at his restaurant. He’ll be here soon, so we’ll hold off starting until he gets here.” The man announced as he walked to his favored chair.

  “Oh, I actually had a question from what we talked about yesterday. …You said the Sentinels use smoke and mirrors with our names, but most of us don’t seem to?” Ranthia asked the first thing that came to her mind—and was very grateful that it seemed rational—in a desperate effort to be saved from her thoughts.

  “Eh, that’s fair. For some of you, either what you do is obvious at a glance—like Ocean—or your name is meant to call attention to only a subset of what you do. Like Grace, by all accounts you basically dance like a joyous child every time you move or fight.” Sentinel Swarm began his explanation.

  Ranthia was struggling to not take that comment as a personal attack.

  “But by naming you Grace—or the Graceful, technically—instead of, say, the title you falsely claimed once, Mirror, we make people assume that’s all you do. Your images and what you do with them gets to be a surprise. A lot of our Sentinels fall under the same sort of logic: we imply or show a single facet of what they do.” Swarm concluded.

  “Yeah, my name works basically the same way. Seeking, I seek things. I just don’t advertise how it works. If people knew how I functioned, I’d struggle a lot more to do my job. It’s why I’ve been practicing my tracking skills as another layer of smoke and mirrors—so people pay less attention to what might have been slipped into their smuggled goods.” Sentinel Seek (was that right?) chimed in.

  “Toxic and, more or less, Deflection kind of spell out exactly what they do, similar to Ocean. Bulwark, Hunting, and Scorch here,” Swarm jerked his thumb at the nose man in question, “lightly imply what they do, but it’s easy for people to make bad assumptions. Quake, Mirage, and my own Swarm title are attempts at misdirection to try to keep our enemies from figuring out how we work. Aurora’s basically impossible to keep secret, and Night’s… well, Night. I honestly don’t even know if he has a name beyond his title.”

  “So, we have names that reveal a single facet so we can try to surprise people, names that are obvious or poetic for obvious things, names that are partial misdirections, and names that are outright lies?” Ranthia summarized. The topic actually was pretty interesting, for something she asked out of desperation for a distraction.

  “Yup. Just don’t go spreading our secrets around.” A familiar voice interjected as Ocean strolled into the room.

  “I know how to keep a secret.” Ranthia retorted, ruined slightly by the smile that spread across her face.

  She had never exactly been close to Ocean, but he was a familiar face that didn’t terrify her. It was always good to see him. It made her being a Sentinel somehow more real to see someone that she had known back when she was trying to become a Ranger.

  “Excellent. Apologies for being a bit late, but does anyone have any urgent items for today?” Ocean asked once he was seated.

  Two nopes and a nah were called, while Ranthia shook her head. …Also, what the heck! She had said no last time while everyone else offered a nonverbal response! They had to be messing with her. Somehow. By predicting her actions and doing whatever it took to make her seem like she was doing it wrong.

  There was, perhaps, some small possibility that it was a coincidence, yes.

  “Alright, I’ll cover my report. Ships in the Nostrum Sea were being attacked by a monster, turned out to be a level 338 nothosaurus. As best as I can tell, it had developed a taste for alcohol and was attacking ships to steal barrels. Even barrels full of fish were getting discarded, the thing only swam off with alcohol.” Ocean began.

  “Now there’s a beast I can sympathize with!” Sentinel Seeks interjected.

  “You would, you lush!” The nose’s mouth barbed.

  Even Swarm was jeering at the guy.

  Ranthia didn’t know the man well enough to be comfortable throwing her own barbs, but it didn’t take many cycles of mockery for a strange pressure to fill the room and choke out the banter.

  “Moving on. I baited it into attacking my ship with some empty barrels. A few harpoons finished it off fairly quickly. I chose not to bother trying to find its nesting ground since there were no reports of young accompanying it.” Ocean calmly resumed after he withdrew the effects of whatever Skill he used.

  “Right, any questions or thoughts on alternative tactics Ocean should have considered?” Swarm prompted.

  “Was it more of a wine, mead, or beer monster?” Seek…ing(? Yes, that was probably right!) asked.

  Everyone ignored him and no one else spoke up. It wasn’t like anyone else had Skills or expertise related to aquatic combat, Ranthia’s ill-advised one-time act of foolishness aside.

  “Alright, now I’m moving on to something bigger. Sentinel Swarm, make no record of this portion of the meeting. Everyone, do not mention any of this outside this room. I’ll be bringing it to Ranger Command and Sentinel Night, but we’re not going to be making this public yet. You’re all familiar with the fact that we’re within the Low Experience Zone, or Dead Zone as some prefer to call it. Each of us knows what it’s like to be on the other side of it too. When I got back, I had the finalized map waiting for me.” Ocean’s voice took on a serious tone, which earned him their utmost attention.

  Ocean unrolled the map and circulated it around the room. Each Sentinel reacted in a small way as they received the map. Swarm cursed under his breath. Noseguy muttered something about being glad it wasn’t his problem. Seeking just winced. And then the map finally made its way into Ranthia’s hands.

  The map was fantastically detailed, significantly superior to any Ranthia had ever seen before. Either it was fanciful, or it was a master [Cartographer] who dabbled as a true [Artist] that created it. It was the kind of map that would net a small fortune—far superior to those used by the Adventurers Guilds or courier offices.

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  Of course, what the map showed was far more important than its quality. The Dead Zone formed a nearly perfect circle, centered on the heart of the Nostrum Sea. Every Adventurer knew that crossing the Nostrum Sea was impossible, there was some sort of monster that killed anything that strayed too far from the shores. …And it appeared the same creature was somehow afflicting the light and life of Pallos to suck away experience and make existence dreary.

  Ranthia sucked her breath in through her gritted teeth and passed the map back to Ocean.

  “We’ve long known that there’s a plant at the bottom of the Nostrum that grabs anything that gets too much distance from the shore with thorny vines. My entire career Remus has grappled with the question of whether or not to do something about it, but until today opinions firmly landed on the plant being a net positive since it prevented the Nostrum from spawning the sorts of nightmares my namesake does.” Ocean continued once he rolled the map and returned it to the leather tube it had been stored in.

  Ranthia had not known that! She had always just assumed ‘big apex predator that didn’t like the shallows.’ How on Pallos was a plant so deadly?

  “This will change the math. However, the Low Experience Zone is also what makes Remus uninteresting to our stronger neighbors. We will need to consider things very carefully, especially in light of how far behind the level curve we are compared to the dwarves of Khazad. If any of you have strong recommendations either way, I’ll carry them to Command when I brief them on the matter—just come to me after we finish our meeting if you wish. But until the powers that be decide to make a public announcement, this matter is to remain secret.” Ocean concluded.

  The rest of them assented.

  “Resume the record. With that addressed, we need to figure out assignments for helping out with the Ranger Academy.” Ocean announced.

  Most of the Sentinels in the room groaned. Ranthia didn’t, though she silently agreed with those that did. She had zero desire to fail at teaching the next generation of Rangers, especially since some percentage of them were her legionaries.

  “All of you are expected to help with the hell months. We need to break the recruits down before we can build them back up, so we need all hands on deck to support Ranger Team 0.” Ocean began.

  Despite herself, a certain mean-spirited part of Ranthia was already formulating plans. None of her skills could make conditions harder, but if she took a more direct approach… Oh yes.

  “Sentinel Grace is excused from taking any trainees on as a mentor, since she won’t be here through graduation.” Ocean barreled through the jealous protests that started. “But, she will be expected to give several lectures to the trainees. Grace, your first lecture will come tomorrow morning. Having a Sentinel offer some general advice before the hell months to all of the candidate trainees—without hinting at what is coming—usually works in our favor. The rest of your lectures will be done in regular classes, I’ll trust you to coordinate with the other instructors to figure out what you can teach and when.”

  The jealous protests swiftly turned to smug mockery.

  Ranthia ignored them though. She was more than a little distracted by the unexpected order to give some lecture tomorrow! She wasn’t a skilled teacher—she had barely managed to help a single disciple previously! How in Xaoc’s glory was she supposed to prepare a coherent lecture in a single day?!

  Ranthia’s preparations were frantic. Bitterly, she was all but certain that she was intentionally given so little time to prepare for her first lecture as some sort of test. Worse, the honey trap would be in full effect, which meant that she would have to compete with far more distractions than usual due to the nonstop flow of food, prostitutes, and distractions on offer. The trainee candidates wouldn’t have even had time to settle in and get used to the treats yet! …Wait, had she just included ‘distractions’ in a list of distractions? Gods and goddesses, she needed more wine—though she wasn’t quite sure just how many times had she gotten another mug already.

  Alcohol aside, she hurriedly honed her plans and, late into the night, carefully copied the summaries of what she wanted to cover onto a fresh scroll. She was ready.

  …After a short bit of sleep.

  Ranthia—fully immersed in her role as Sentinel Grace—allowed the other instructors to form around her and march her onto the platform with the gongs. Sentinel Swarm had been delighted to help with planting the seeds of her nefarious plan and the man had set up inscriptions on the platform that should prevent the trainees from using [Identify] or the like on her.

  The gong was rung, and the prospective trainees glacially began to gather, assisted by instructors.

  “Alright you lot! All eyes and ears! Sentinel Grace has graced us with her presence! The Sentinel will now give you all some advice to help you along your path to become Rangers! So, look alive!” An unfamiliar instructor called out, before he moved back behind Ranthia.

  Most of the group gave Sentinel Grace their undivided attention. A surprising number of familiar faces were in the group—she didn’t have time to do a headcount, but she would have to check sometime to see just how many of her former people were trying to become Rangers. In addition, the number of women among the trainees had ticked upward as well, it seemed.

  Of course, others in the group paid little attention to her. There were the expected men and boys that found a woman of her apparent age beneath their notice, and her title couldn’t even sway them. Then there were those that still conversed or worked on food they had carried. And, obnoxiously, one young woman had actually brought a prostitute to the assembly and boldly had her hands inside of clothing.

  Ranthia suppressed her mixed emotions. She wanted to smile and wave to the people that had struggled alongside her. She wanted to scowl at those who were stupid enough to ignore her. And she was taking the sex-crazy young woman very personally. Instead, she kept her game face on and unrolled her scroll.

  …It was blank.

  She had somehow grabbed the wrong scroll!

  Okay, that was fine. No reason to panic. She could wing it—the chaotic part of her was probably overjoyed at the prospect, presumably. It wasn’t like she had memorized her plans on such short notice. She knew she had narrowed it down to… er… some number of lessons.

  Oh, Xaoc it all, she just needed to start speaking before she managed to get into her own head. Ranthia took a deep breath before she held up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun off the water—wholly unnecessary with her vitality—and addressed the crowd.

  “Adventurers, soldiers from the Legions, and those who trained in other ways to get here! You have all worked hard to be recognized and to earn a place at this Academy. You now stand at the starting line to become Rangers—those who protect Remus from threats that grow within or come from beyond. But make no mistake, you only stand at the starting line.

  “Some of you know me. Most of you do not. But I still expect all of you to bear my words in mind! This Academy will give you tools, and it is up to you to actually make use of those tools! The tools—the lessons—you learn here will keep you and your fellow Rangers alive, but only if you use them well. So allow me to be among the first to give you some advice.

  “This is my first lesson: Survive. Keep your fellow Rangers alive. None of you here are truly rivals. You will earn no glory on this island. You may compete, but you compete as fellows and as equals. Bear that in mind at all times! The men and women around you are your future comrades, if you can prove yourselves worthy! Does anyone here know what a fallen Ranger is to their team?”

  Sentinel Grace continued, without pause. She had no use for their guesses.

  “A hole. Not in their hearts and memories, but in their formations and battle plans! Every Ranger that falls endangers their entire squad! A frontliner that falls creates vulnerabilities. A backliner that falls reduces damage output or support, which forces the frontliners to take greater risks. The loss of a flexible Ranger that moves between roles means that the survivors are left without that invaluable flexibility.

  “Coordination is the greatest skill you can learn as Rangers. But all the pieces have to be there for coordination to even function! This doesn’t just mean keeping yourself alive, it also means keeping an eye on your fellows. Learn to recognize the subtle signs that someone will soon be overwhelmed or that a formation isn’t working! Don’t just rely on your team leader—each and every one of you must learn to be fully aware of the battlefield.”

  She paused. She had gained a bit more attention, it seemed, and she gave them a moment to digest her words before she continued.

  “Second lesson: Pay attention to how you see your Skills and yourself. Many of you have unique or odd ways you fight. Much of this is just an adaptation to how your Skills developed or the niches you established in your old environment. But for at least some of you there are aspects that are core to your vision for yourself and the passions that you carry in your heart. Your instructors will drive you towards efficient, effective, and time-tested ideals for how to use your skills and how to fight. With that said, your instructors will not know the difference between changes that are unimportant to you and changes that you reject down to your very soul.

  “Do your best to become familiar with the difference. Know what aspects of your style are innate to who you are. Because if you sacrifice something innate to yourself for the sake of efficiency, you will become lesser. Your future class offerings will be diminished. And you will never quite be able to keep up with your peers ever again.” Ranthia spoke from her own experiences.

  There was less engagement this time, as people underestimated the value of the words. She had lost the young woman entangled with the prostitute completely. Worse, she could feel some of the instructors making their bruised egos obvious behind her too. She could only hope that they were somehow subtle enough that the trainee candidates wouldn’t notice.

  “Just one more lesson for today. A word to the strong: you are in the greatest danger. Those that struggle will learn to survive and value their lives. But the majority of the most promising Academy graduates from each year, the ones their peers call future Sentinels? They end up on the Wall on their first rotation almost without exception. Arrogance breeds a deadly contempt for danger.

  “Some of you already know the truth of the world, but many of you do not. Pallos is huge, and Remus is a small fish that has thrived in a tiny pond. Here, level 256 is respectable for Adventurers and others that face danger. Level 320 is the mark of a true elite. Level 512 was, not even twenty years ago, a myth, and it’s still considered to be legendary by most. But beyond our borders—beyond Remus—level 512 is barely even a starting line for the powerful. There are beings both monster and not out there with levels above one thousand and twenty-four.

  “Here we live confidently, with our fears relating only to rogue classers, dinosaurs, other monsters of varying threat levels, and rare true monstrosities that poke out of the Ocean. And some of you have never seen any of those fears manifested at a tier that truly threatened you. You’ve never properly faced your mortality, and you have no respect or understanding of your fragility.

  “My words can’t change that. Ranger Academy can’t change that. We can tell you over and over that you are nothing and there are threats that can and would end you before you could react. But you’ll never be convinced of it, even if you accept it conceptually. My lesson is that when there’s danger to you or your fellow Rangers, don’t hold back and simultaneously don’t be reckless. I learned these lessons the hard way. And that’s why I’m a Sentinel.

  “Most Rangers that faced this lesson the hard way ended up on the Indomitable Wall instead.”

  Sentinel Grace sighed and rerolled her blank scroll.

  “Don’t join them. These words will change nothing today, but I trust each of you will remember them and carry them forward!”

  With that, she stepped back and allowed the instructors to release the trainees.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.