Earth Bet: House of the Sun (Cultist Simulator/Worm)

Winning Plan:
[X] Plan: Steady Development
-[X] On work and the challenges it entails.
--[X] You'll work your hours and no more (Gain no extra actions, default)
-[X] On your Foe, and the danger she wields
--[X] Attack her, finish this (This is Assaulting an Opponent Expedition)
---[X] Take the combatants trained in Edge with us.
-[X] On furthering the cause.
--[X] Search out the talented, teach them Edge
--[X] Assist somebody else in their task (Ai Hayashi)
-[X] On learning the Lores.
--[X] The cult's library has a few texts, go read up on them
---[X] The manuscript on Lantern (You will gain 1 scrap of Lantern)
-[X] On Rites, Rituals and the things inbetween
--[X] You'll cast The Attention of the Laws (EDGE)

Knowledge was a term you were familiar with—intimately, yet not always comfortable. You weren't the smartest person by any academic measure, far from it. Your performance in most study metrics had always fallen below average, and that fact had never bothered you much. After all, your path had never demanded intellectual prowess in the traditional sense.

But you understood one thing clearly: learning was a virtue, and experience could often fill in the gaps left by textbooks and lectures. You had been a tactician in Poland, and practical knowledge had often been your saving grace. Now, as you sat with Arch's manuscript in front of you, that same understanding was being tested.

He had mentioned something about light—"Light always shines true."

You frowned as the phrase repeated in your mind. What exactly did he mean by that? It was vague, poetic perhaps, but frustratingly unclear. Maybe he was talking about knowledge as a metaphorical light, something that dispels ignorance like light dispels darkness. But that explanation seemed… too simple, too obvious. There had to be more to it. You weren't one for flowery language, and Arch's habit of phrasing things cryptically only heightened your irritation.

Your fingers drummed rhythmically on the table—an unconscious tic you hardly ever indulged, but this time, it slipped out, spurred by the growing frustration of deciphering his words. Would it have killed him to be clearer in his writing? For someone as educated as Arch, his tendency to write like a mad prophet was grating. The manuscript had devolved into rambles, making your task all the more difficult.

As you mulled over the incomprehensible passage, a shadow passed over the page, pulling your attention away. Glancing up, you noticed the sunlight had all but vanished, the room darkening as evening crept in. With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the chair, flicking the light switch on as you returned to your seat. The artificial glow filled the room, but your focus was now elsewhere, a nagging sense pulling at the back of your mind.

"Wait," you murmured as a thought began to form, slowly clicking into place. You stood up, pacing for a moment before flipping the light switch back off, letting the room be swallowed in darkness once again. You grabbed the manuscript in your hands, trying to read it under the lack of light. Of course, it was impossible. You couldn't see a thing.

You flipped the switch back on, and the room was suddenly bathed in the light once more.

"So, if light allows you to see the words on paper," you mused aloud, "what else might it let you see?"

Your eyes drifted toward the bulb overhead and then to the paper in your hand. An idea, perhaps wild and half-formed, began to take shape. You folded one of the manuscript pages backward, holding it up against the light source. The brightness filtered through the paper, illuminating the text on the back side, though the letters were, predictably, reversed. Still, it sparked something.

Mundane light cuts through mundane shadows, you thought, but could metaphysical light cut through metaphysical shadows? Could Glory illuminate not just the physical world but the deeper, obscured truths of reality itself?

You sat down again, this time flipping rapidly through the pages, your eyes darting back and forth as if searching for that hidden key, that buried insight Arch had woven into his cryptic writing. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place, like puzzle pieces aligning in your mind.

Light wasn't just photons and waves, you realized, your thoughts racing. Light was understanding. It was a facet of awareness itself, a force that, when wielded correctly, could cut through confusion, through the veils of ignorance that clouded reality. It was both literal and metaphorical, capable of showing the hidden truths beneath the surface of things.

You murmured softly, more to yourself than to anyone else in the room, "So that's what it means..."

The phrase took on a new depth as you stood up from your chair once again. "Light always shines true." It wasn't just a statement about illumination. It was a declaration of the power of knowledge, the force that drives away deception and misperception. And as that realization dawned, you felt something shift within you.

There was a spark, small but unmistakable, deep in your chest and your eyes… you felt a subtle warmth there too, as if they were lit from within. Curious, you glanced toward the nearby mirror, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw it—a faint glimmer in your irises, a reflection of that same light of Glory Arch had written about.

It was brief, but it was there, even if faded after you blinked.

Light always shines true. And now, you understood.

You've learned that the light reveals secrets, it doesn't just reveal the physical but what only exists only inside the mind. You've gained 1 scrap of Lantern.

Lantern lore is now level 1

---

Your arms were folded tightly behind your back as you paced before your men, casting a sharp gaze over the battalion you were attempting to forge. They were not soldiers in the traditional sense—at least, not yet. They were raw and unrefined, and most would likely dismiss your methods as reckless, maybe even cruel. But you didn't care. The situation called for shortcuts, and you knew this was the fastest way to harden them into something useful in the heat of war.

This wasn't a training regimen born from textbooks or manuals. It was primal, ruthless, the kind of technique that would make more polished officers back home sneer. Yet, in your eyes, it was effective. You couldn't afford the luxury of time. The battle ahead demanded hardened fighters, not green recruits who quivered at the sight of blood. You were molding them for your ongoing war and preparing them for any other conflicts your cult might face in the future.

[Training the Talented: DC 70]

[Roll: 4+18(Martial) +10(EDGE) = 32]

Your fist crashed into the man's face with a dull thud, and he crumpled, gasping for air. The crack of knuckles against bone echoed through the room, but the sound of his struggle grated on you. He had fallen too easily.

"Come on, face me!" you roared, turning to the next in line. A woman stepped forward, clearly nervous but trying to mask it under a veneer of bravery. You engaged her, a calculated exchange of blows that you drew out longer than it needed to go. She couldn't beat you—none of them could. But the point wasn't winning. It was the endurance, the grit to keep going even when the fight seemed lost.

Yet, as your fist connected with her throat in a final strike, she dropped. And this time, she didn't rise.

You stood there, breathing heavily, your eyes scanning the fallen bodies around you. Not one of them was on their feet. You had pushed them hard, too hard perhaps, and yet none had managed to rise from the pain. A part of you had hoped they'd learn, that they'd absorb the lessons you were trying to impart, but today, it seemed that hope was misplaced.

"Clean up. You're dismissed," you snarled, barely masking the disappointment that coursed through you as you stormed out of the training ground. Your heart pounded against your chest, the familiar tightness of old scars stretching painfully. The frustration lingered, a gnawing sensation that you couldn't quite shake.

It wasn't nerves. That's what you told yourself as you climbed into your car and started the engine. You weren't nervous. No, it was something else, you reasoned as you pulled onto the road, your thoughts swirling like a storm.

You were trying to teach them something essential—how to stand even after being knocked down, how to become sharper, deadlier, more capable in the face of adversity. You weren't nervous, just readining them to face Alicja. Her face flashed in your mind for a split second, only a mere moment. That gnawed at the back of your mind, even though you pushed it aside. This was war. There was no room for sentimentality, no space for doubts.

But still... that feeling crept in, uninvited. A twinge of something you refused to acknowledge. Regret? No, it wasn't that. You shook your head as if the motion would rid you of the uneasy feeling altogether.

Flicking on the radio, you let the music wash over you, filling the silence as you exhaled slowly, trying to let go of the tension coiling inside your chest.

You weren't regretful, not about anything. Just a smidge... nervous, maybe. But nothing more. You told yourself that again and again as the road stretched out ahead of you, but the unease lingered, refusing to be silenced.

You attempted to induct some of the Cult further into the lore of conflict. They did not understand what you told them, a failure of yourself and them.

"Good evening," Ai had said as she stepped inside your home. You had invited her over, hoping to build a bridge where you'd once neglected to form proper connections with your allies. That had been your error in the past—focusing so much on the task at hand that you'd failed to know those around you. You were determined to not make the same mistake.

"Good evening," you responded, leading her into your home. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

She smiled that knowing smile of hers, settling into a chair with an elegance that made no sound other than the faint swish of her robes.

"Tea, please, and from a kettle if you have it," she replied, her voice smooth and deliberate.

You blinked, not entirely sure what difference the kettle made, but decided to accommodate. Heading into the kitchen, you rummaged around until you found an old, battered kettle at the back of a cabinet. You filled it with fresh water and set it on the stove, waiting for it to heat.

"Mint, that's a good choice," came a voice behind you, calm and close. Your heart leaped to your throat as you turned around slowly, only to see Ai standing there with a tea bag in her hand. You hadn't heard her move, hadn't even noticed her come into the kitchen.

"Right..." you replied, trailing off as you took the tea bag from her, unsettled by her quietness. She smiled at you, serene, as though she hadn't just snuck up behind you.

The kettle began to sing, and you poured the hot water into a cup, dropping the mint tea bag inside. Ai accepted the cup gracefully, taking a delicate sip, eyes closing as if savoring the moment.

The two of you moved back to the living room, sitting across from each other in silence as she seemed fully absorbed in her tea. The quiet stretched on, and you weren't sure how to break it. You opened your mouth to ask how you could help her, but just as the words formed—

"How-"

"How-"

Both of you spoke at the same time. You stopped, blinking in surprise, and gestured for her to continue.

"How is your shoulder?" Ai asked, her gaze calm but piercing. Your fingers twitched up to your shoulder instinctively. How did she know about that? You had taken every measure to keep the injury discreet—avoiding work, keeping the medicine you bought on the down low.

She tittered softly, covering her mouth with a sleeve before setting her tea back on the table. "You were injured a few months ago, and I keep track of our people. It's my job," she said simply.

Your fingers curled under the table, a flicker of anger rising at the thought of being watched. "So you've been spying on me?" you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

Her face remained calm. "No, I merely ask a few questions. I like to make sure everything is going smoothly, and when you beat our best combatants half to death, that requires some poking and prodding." Her words were delivered without judgment, but the truth behind them hit hard. You had been harsh in your training methods, and of course, that would warrant attention.

"Fine," you said, sighing as you tried to shift the conversation. "Back on topic, how can I help you?"

She took another sip of her tea, then set it down carefully. "There will be a call in about two minutes. If you could pick it up and confirm your identity, that would be helpful."

You frowned, not willing to just follow orders blindly. "I need to know why," you said, meeting her gaze.

Ai smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded in that calm, unreadable way of hers. "The mayor is cowardly. He wants real backing, not merely my words. Your assurance will give him the confidence to agree with me."

You narrowed your eyes. It was a simple explanation, and from what you knew of these operations, it seemed plausible enough. When your phone rang moments later, you picked it up.

[Convincing the Mayor: DC 40]

[Roll: 22+9(Diplomacy)+10(GRAIL) = 41]

"Hello?" you said, voice steady.

"Ah, it really is you!" came a nervous chuckle on the other end. "Well, I didn't expect this... Mister Donovan, all in bed with the foreigners..." The man's voice trailed off, his nerves apparent.

"We're working together, is that understood?" you replied, letting your tone slip into the professional cadence you used at work.

"Of course, and you'll help me?" he asked, his voice now echoing your own professional tone. You could hear the shift in him—less uncertain, more confident.

Ai gestured for you to hand her the phone, which you did. She cradled it beside her ear and responded with a thick, exaggerated Chinese accent. "Yes, Mr. Mayor, don't worry. We'll ensure your re-election. Just remember our deal." After a moment of conversation, she snapped the phone shut and handed it back to you.

"Thank you for your assistance," she said, her accent returning to its usual soft Japanese lilt. Draining the rest of her tea, she stood and bowed her head to you.

"Have a good day, Mr. Donovan," Ai said before heading to the exit. You followed her to the door, seeing her out of your home as hospitality demanded.

No more words were exchanged as she departed, and you couldn't help but feel you had grown closer. Somewhat at least.

You've spent time with Ai, helping her get the Mayor under her sway. According to her, he'll be willing to support the cult by the end of the month, discreetly, of course.

You are now Friends with Ai

---

You returned your thoughts to Alicja and your plan to fight her. You hadn't known what she had been up to since you had fought a few months ago, and while she didn't have the same resources as you, there was no doubt she was back on her feet.

That meant you needed to seize the initiative. You had to strike out and kill her before she did something that would kill you in turn. You had gathered resources and allies in preparing for this; now it was time to see what that would win you.

Planning was the first step, and you sat at your kitchen table, notebook in hand, as your mind moved and you thought.

Assaulting Alicja
Duration: Short (Costs a single Action; additional followers can join without spending an Action)
Base Cost: 5 Funds/day (You must have 25 Funds per follower sent)
[] Assault an opponent (Alicja)
-[] Who is going? (You can bring up to 2 Children of Silence Combatants)
-[] What do you bring? (Write in, they will be given to who best can use them)
-[] What is your objective? (Write in, in order of priority)
-[] Anything else? (Write in any other specifications or ideas you have)